Thank You For Calling

 Sorry for updating late this month. School has taken priority for me. If you want to see more frequent posts, check out my Patreon.

 

Thank you for calling Your Destruction.

If you’re calling to bring forth your personal hell, press 1.

If you’re calling for emotional devastation, press 2.

If you’re calling to enact physical harm, press 3.

…Thank you. Your Destruction is now offering a summer sale.

If you are interested, please fill out the survey on Your Destruction website.

…Please hold…please hold…please hold…please hold on for as long as you can…

Please hold; the bringer of your doom will be with you in a moment…

Hello. It’s nice to hear from you again.

What can I do for you that will make you regret your life choices?

I see. Sorry to hear that. Would you like to include your friends and family?

I understand. Your Destruction will ensure that your life is utterly ruined once I’m done.

Have a nice day!

Lamb Stew

    Dead grass dominates the farmlands. A trickle of a river staggers from the mountainside. June’s father slaughtered the emaciated sheep, Toes, over a week ago. Her father and mother ate the last fatty chunk yesterday. Helping her mother prepare the stew, June discovers the rosemary, thyme, and bay leaf among the carrots and potatoes. These twigs of spices enhance the meaty flavor of stew, but they don’t have any more sheep. Her mother smiles and dumps the vegetables into the boiling cauldron. She reassures June that lamb is being added to the stew. June licks her lips.

“I hope we have a fat lamb.”

“She’s on the thin side, but her meat should last.”

“What’s her name?”

“June.”

    A hatchet thwacks June on the side of her head. She plummets to the floor and whimpers. Her father raises his hatchet and strikes again. The wife adds salt, pepper, rosemary, thyme, and a bay leaf to the cauldron. The husband takes the lamb, June, out back to dice up. Salting and drying out the pieces that won’t be added to tonight’s stew.

Spring Break, here I come! Times are rough, but here's a dark short story to pass the time. If you're able, please support me on Patreon so I can keep doing what I love.

It's been a long two months.

    I'm sorry for not posting anything in February. I know I'm not the only one feeling wrung out from everything happening, nor am I currently someone in immediate danger. But I'm tired and furious about everything that's going on with Trump's 2nd term. I hate that we're in this situation. I know who I voted for. It was the Harris & Wales ticket. I voted for democracy and the betterment of this country. I'm not upset with the people who made the right choice. I'm disgusted at the people who made the wrong one. Every ill that befalls the United States is on you who voted for a fascist and his enablers. Hope the recession was worth whatever millisecond of joy you got out of Trump winning. May the pain you've wrought eat at your bones. I have no tears for you. Stay as safe as you can.

If you want to invest in me as a writer, check out my patreon and become a patron. I post stuff all throughout the month. Follow me on Instagram @thais_serenity. 

Hermit Crab Poem

 Step Outline- Hiking Trail (A Horror)

 

Prologue

 

Ext. Woodland Park, Upstate California- Sunset

 

It’s mid-autumn, hot. A week before school starts, there’s a family gathering. A young woman is arguing with her father. She’s holding onto her food. Then, she grabs her purse and storms off. Her father calls after her, but she’s heading into the mouth of the woods.

 

ACT I

 

Ext. The mouth of the woods- Dusk

 

She walks along the hiking trail, grumbling about her father. She takes a bite of her hotlink and complains about leaving her beer behind. She isn’t alone.

 

Int. Feelings

 

She wants to have one family outing where she doesn’t fight with her dad. It’s the same repeating argument, just a different scene. He always eats away at her good time. Why can’t Dad let me be?

 

Ext. Right at the throat of the woods- Dusk

 

She shouts to the listening woods she doesn’t want to return to her father. And the beast that’s stalking her listens.

 

ACT II

 

Ext. Swallowed by the woods- Dusk

 

The beast watches the woman slide down the woodland path. She’s speaking to herself aloud.

 

Int. Thoughts

 

Are her troubles so loud that they have to escape her body? If the beast sinks its teeth into her throat, will her words of anguish spill out with her blood? And then she shouts she doesn’t want to return to her father. If she doesn’t have any plans to leave the woods, he should have his fill.

 

ACT III

 

Int. Inside the belly- Dark

 

There are blistering bubbles below her. She lost a shoe and three toes. The walls flex and relax against her crawling hands. She didn’t know someone was tailing her and listening. She was so consumed with her fight with her father that she got devoured by another man.