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
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
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
Little Ghost Post 