I’m standing in the skincare aisle like a normal person.I am not a normal person.I am holding a letter certified by the Local Goose Council and legally infused with Silly Goose Juice. The contents are unregulated.You may experience: mild emotional disobedience glitter-related side effects the sudden desire to honk when threatened I’ve slid it between… Continue reading The Letter Contained Juice and No Warnings
They’re not letters. Not really.They’re warnings. Or encouragement. Or leftovers from someone else’s spiral.Filed and Sealed in wax.Dropped where only the right kind of person will bother to look. Some are petty.Some are kind.Some were clearly written by a raccoon in emotional distress. If you find one, you’ll know.It might be tucked in your jacket… Continue reading Tiny Threats for People Who Deserve Worse
Let me set the scene:I’m standing in front of the Doritos like a normal person.I am not a normal person.I am holding a letter that tastes like smoke.I’m about to slide it between Sweet Chili Heat and Cool Ranch.Because that’s where it belongs. Three pages of restrained grief, betrayal under glass.It doesn’t name names.It doesn’t… Continue reading I Am Holding a Letter That Tastes Like Smoke
Just a scrap of paper,a tired hand,It wasn’t Elsie’s hand this time.She’s still lingering somewhere between the walls, humming to herself in old ink and grief.This one came from another ghost.A quieter one.A little feral, a little late, but still willing to work the mailroom. If you find something sealed, tucked, or out of place...you… Continue reading Update from Nowhere
I think it started with the mushrooms.But maybe it started with me. He lives behind Bin Cluster 7.Walks upright. Carries a dinosaur ladle.Looks at me like I’m the strange one. I gave him a name Rupert von Bin because someone had to. I’ve watched him make soup from things that shouldn’t be soup.Mushrooms, mostly. Things… Continue reading The Bin, the Ladle, the Madness: Field Notes from a Feral Witness
The envelope’s nothing special.Jane liked it that way. Said Daphne wouldn’t open anything too pretty. Inside? A letter she never meant to send.She wrote it after her seventh visit. Or maybe her seventeenth.There’s a tally sheet. Some angry scribbles.One line just says: “you left.” It’s not sweet.It’s not fair.But it’s honest. I don’t think Jane… Continue reading The Last One She Wrote
Some betrayals don’t scream.They watch. This letter was written for Juliet, who didn’t just steal something sacred—she waited.Waited for the tears.Waited for the panic.Waited for the exact moment hope would rise, so she could see the light leave someone’s face when it didn’t last. That’s not petty.That’s not theft.That’s something worse. Elizabeth wrote this after… Continue reading Hope Was the Cruelest Part
Harriet wrote like the sea had taken a bite out of her and never gave it back. She waited for a man who left with a promise and didn’t return with a body. Just silence. Long enough that people stopped asking, long enough that she forgot how to speak his name without choking on it.… Continue reading The One Who Never Let Go
The letter inside came from a man named Elias Rook.Five pages long. All of it bleeding with the kind of honesty that only shows up when you’re not going to survive the night. He followed orders. Stood where they told him. Carried the sword.Did everything right.And still, people died behind him. This isn’t a story… Continue reading Ashes speak louder than swords
I left this one on a desk. A plain one—fake wood, not trying too hard. The kind you sit at when you’re pretending to be okay. When you’re getting through the day but part of you is still somewhere else. Still waiting. The envelope is dark. The kind of brown that feels like old journals… Continue reading THE ONE WHO NEVER CAME BACK
Little Ghost Post 