Content Warning: This is a short fiction post based on DrawKill’s Goretober Prompt List. It may contain violence, gore, creepy shit, sexy shit, or all of the above. ~ Grandmother said the world was not always this way. There was a time when grass was green and the skies above were clear and blue, when…
Author: Harley
A Devil in Hingham | 4 | Chastity
| 4 | It seemed I waited an eternity, kneeling before the fire as my knees began to ache, for Caleb to return. I wondered if the townsfolk had any idea what was occurring within their blessed preacher’s house, I wondered if I even yet understood the extent of Father Morley’s perversion. I may well…
Personal Post – Mojave Sands
I wonder why the desert feels like Mars. Like another world we can only visit briefly, fixed up for humans but not really FOR us. Those little shops offering crystals and wine, thrift stores graffitied with meditating astronauts in a universe of holographic color. Mobile homes alone on barren brown hills and The Rainbow Chicken…
Goretober | 3 | Crawling From Within
Content Warning: This is a short fiction post based on DrawKill’s Goretober Prompt List. It may contain violence, gore, creepy shit, sexy shit, or all of the above. ~ She had brought that disgusting thing to school again, and this time she was going to regret it. “She” being Sierra Craven, school weirdo and –…
A Devil in Hingham | 3 | Sight and Silence
| 3 | Father Morley helped me dress, but the knickers he had ripped from me were not returned. “It is only right that you feel your own shame,” he said, as he carefully buttoned the back of my dress. “As we walk, the wetness from within you will drip onto your legs. With every…
A Devil in Hingham | 2 | Confession
| 2 | When I had put on my fine clothes that morning, I had not imagined I would be discarding them so soon. I set the flogger upon the altar, and my hat beside it. I struggled with the buttons up the back of my dress, so much so that I glanced back at…
A Devil in Hingham | 1 | Whore
| 1 | I gave thanks by moonlight, with my blood and my flesh. Dancing naked in the deep woods, beneath creaking boughs of sycamore and red maple. I whipped my thighs to a masterpiece of spackled blood and raised welts with slim switches, and reveled in the pain. I gave thanks to every Earthly…
Goretober | 1 | Pins and Needles
Content Warning: This is a short fiction post based on DrawKill’s Goretober Prompt List. It may contain violence, gore, creepy shit, sexy shit, or all of the above. ~ Mama kept thirteen pins in a little gilded box on her nightstand. She said they were Gram’s pins before her, and Great-Gram NanNan’s before that. They…
Personal Post: Writing Struggles
Sometimes, I really struggle to like my own writing. I think every writer has experienced this. They’ve probably experienced it more than once. The urge to burn everything, the utter lack of motivation and creativity. It’s frustrating. It’s angering. It’s almost like the more you think about it, the worse it gets. Sometimes, I really…
Dragons, Sporks, & The Birth of an Inner Critique
I think most writers (hell, most artist/creative types) are all-too familiar with the Inner Critic. They come in a few forms, from horrifically cruel (“Everything you create is crap and should never see the light of day!”) to deceivingly optimistic (“You are capable of WAY better writing than this, you should completely scrap this and…