Gr33nmoth

Finally got my masters of fine arts in creative writing… hope it can get me published or a writing job lol

Throwback to high school days

Submitted to Terrorcore publishing so let’s hope I can finally get a piece out into the world.

I will be holed up for the rest of the month to practice for the conference. See you on the other side

I watched the show “Girls” recently and it absolutely infuriated me the amount of times that Hannah got handed an opportunity and fumbled it. I could never. I’d give anything for my work to be noticed and would work hard not to mess it up lmaoo

Yeah, I’m sure it did not get picked lol

Writing a short story about aliens at a burlesque show

Prompt:
There’s a monster hiding in your walls. How does the story go?

Submitted my story “The Onion Factory” to Volume 0. Lets see if it’s not shit 👍🏽

What a wild ride

Black out poetry

Writing at night is a vibe

As a result of my winning the John Lewis Writing Grant, I am planning a public reading of CRYSTALLINE. If you are interested please message me and I will give more info when I have it!

The Shadow Man

Nonfiction Horror

The great thing about having basically no followers is I can post all my shitty stories and no one will see them. I’ll save the good ones for later

Near The House By The Bar Pt.1 (3)

Near The House By The Bar Pt.1 (2)

Near the House by The Bar Pt.1 (1)

This night is like a circus. Everyone is performing acts and pretending like they don’t know what happened to him. Like he’s just missing. Like no one suspects me. But as they sang their merry song and dimmed the lights, I just knew what they all were thinking.

There are some beers in the fridge. Maybe I should grab one. Maybe I should play Twister with Rhonda and Cam and pretend like all is well. Maybe I should celebrate this new year coming into existence with a bit of fluff and lies.

That I could squeeze and squeeze until his eyes bulged from his sockets and his chest deflated. I hid the body, but I know I didn’t do a great job. The only thing that I can do is try to enjoy this dreadful night.

It’s only a matter of time before I get caught. I’ll have to leave the country. But, what’s the point in that? They’ll just catch me at the airport before I can make it out. I feel so disgusting, so shameful that I could even wrap my hands around his neck.

What else do I have to live for? Everything that I worked so hard for in life has just gone down the drain. That savings account? It’ll be gone once I hire a lawyer. The freedom that I love so dearly? It’ll be gone and feel like a dream soon.

I try to smile, since my friends are observing me like a snake in a glass case. I’m good at pretending. I just have to last through the night and no one will ever know how I feel. How I just lost the feeling in my arm. Am I having a stroke? If that were the case, I’d hope that it would kyll me.

The smell of the candles are nauseating, smoke filling up the room like a building on fire. The stench of the ink-filled cream on top of the cake, soaked in red 40 dye, making each year closer to my last.

2) Happy Birthday

That night, another mouth was opened, and a headstone was placed above the roof of its mouth. The soil was delighted to have the chips of the stone as an appetizer, as the words “Here lies Betty Greenburg. She was a good person” was chiseled into the marker.

While the earth underneath the headstone would flourish in row 8 of 35, column 6 of 20, the rest of the cemetery would have to wait for another day.