Long time, no post. My latest story ("Helen of Sorrows") is one of my favorites that never quite hit the mark at any magazines (but almost did). It's weird and horrorish and has skeletons and pizza. I love this one a lot. I hope you do too.
This one means a lot to me as it's about how mental health workers are the worst at taking care of themselves. As a former mental health worker, this is very very true. The voice is rather clinical, as that's the sort of thing that mental health workers revert to in times of crisis: a kind of clinical way of looking at the world and their surroundings. It's like coping to the extreme. Nothing can be wrong with them; order must be maintained.
Or maybe that was just me.
Anyway, Stella (my service dog) is majorly snoring on my foot right now so I'm gonna say goodnight and hope you enjoy the read.