TW for fucking everything.

A lot of people I know have asked me about my feelings right now.

Before I get all the way into it, I want to preface my remarks with a few things. First of all, I say none of this with glee or pleasure. Second, I’m going to keep it absolutely 100 with y’all because I feel the need for naked honesty. If after reading any of this, your instinct is to tell me I’m wrong or whatever don’t bother. I’ve heard it before. If you want to call me a crybaby that’s fine. …


Reprint from Rant.Pants on Patreon

Take time to heal. Healing is necessary. Healing, healing healing- I have seen healing more now than I have in a long time. It is apt of course; we all are in dire need of it. In theory, I fully believe in the power of taking the time to heal. I have written about it myself; I have written a whole book about learning to care for oneself, I had a regular series of essays about it, and this is not new for me.

And now here I am. I am burnt out. I am…


[image description: A digitally manipulated shot of dark pine trees and a meadow]

I

I have been turned off folk horror since the first time it was explained to me what it was. According to the website folkhorror.com, folk horror is characterized as:

“Folk horror is a sub-genre of horror fiction (or of Occult fiction in WorldCat Genre terms) characterized by reference to European, pagan traditions. Stories typically involve standing stone circles, earthworks, elaborate rituals or nature deity”* — note this quote has since been changed on the site.

(Update- the above link now goes to a page that is only occult fiction.)

My introduction to folk horror as a subgenre was through…


Original story raw draft.

Hello dear reader. Below find a story inspired by the screenshot from the film Jackie Brown that I wrote as a writing exercise. Unedited. Enjoy. Content notes: some mention of childhood abuse and murder.

[image description: screenshot from the film Jackie Brown, Pam Grier is pictured on the left and Robert Forster on the right]

The press of the gun to his temple was almost gentle, the voice in his ear made him smile. “Hey. You’re late. Drop ‘em.” The man tossed the gun in his left hand, and she laughed. “And your dick knife and the rig in your fat paddle.” Of course, she remembered his habits. He pulled the little push knife out of the…


Orig appeared Battered Suitcase 2011

Note: I was not publicly identifying as non-binary at the time.

[image description: a black and white photo of the band The Gits on stage]

I am a woman in my thirties and like many other women my age, my girlhood was changed; by the magazine Sassy, the discovery of bands like 7 Year Bitch, L7, the Gits and RiotGrrl culture. I have lived in Seattle for most of my life; I saw a lot of this culture up close but rarely personally. I was too young and too shy to go out and experience the birth of angry girl culture, but the hooks were sunk.

My desire was…


Story inspired by this 2Pac song. Lyric video below. Originally written in 2017 for an anthology I was booted out of because the publisher was offended by it.

I think I’m dreaming. I inhale her smell, cocoa butter and vanilla skin smell. A split second later I feel the cold steel of her gun against my throat I open my eyes and croak at her. “Hi baby.” She is straddling me, a canon of a handgun pointed at my throat, a big smile on her face. I am smiling like a big dummy.

“Don’t be cute, I want to…


Originally appeared in Thuglit Issue#5 2013

Four tweakers, one roll of duct tape, one .44 caliber pistol, one rusty hunting knife, two cheap head knife unreliable switch blades and four ski masks do not a good heist plan make.

~Urban Proverb

[image description: outline of a curvy woman]

The plan happened after Rip, Jimmy and the Flore brothers got themselves four fat bags of dope and spent the last of their money. Jittering and sweating they paced in the one room flop they shared, trying to come up with ideas.

“I know, I know why don’t we roll some hookers?”

Jimmy was into his idea, he loved…


Urban Werewolf Tale

[image description: glitchy image of a cityscape at night manipulated by the author]

Summer nights are the worst. The combination of the heat, the bare skin, everything comes together and is just worse than everything. It’s June and the full moon is coming and it’s just all bad and she hates it. That night before she left for work her brother lounged on her bed talking, “so, you think you gonna be okay tonight? I mean I can leave band practice early. Or like why don’t you take the night off?”

She turned to glare at him, “is you crazy? You know that calling in cause your period is fixing…


[image description: a photo of a white swan on green water.]

Nobody really knows how or why a bevy of swans was settled behind a once grand victim of slow decay and failed gentrification called the Lakeside Arms Apartments. There was no lake but there was an ugly little pond that bred more mosquitoes and other annoyances than provided a nice view. Everyone still insisted on calling it a lake for all time. The place held a brief title as the harbinger of progressive racial harmony, it was in the ‘tween of a lower middle-class white neighborhood and its Black counterpart. …


[image description: a photo of DMX nee Earl Simmons looking into the camera]

I love bad men. The first bad man I loved was a neighbor in our apartment complex when I was a little kid. He and his girlfriend would let me come into their mostly empty apartment and they’d play me music from the LA hardcore scene, they let me eat candy and listen to them say bad words. He loved to show me things, he’d show me how his guitar amp worked, or he’d let me watch him work on his car. He was handsome to my eye, I thought he was smart and cool and said fuck a lot.

Shannon Barber

I write a lot of stuff.

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