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What Is Wrong With You? #1

Folk & Sons

Just trying something new out. Lemme know what you think.

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Fridge Magnets

You can arrange them any way you choose, make the words your own, make a statement like nobody ever has. We bought them at a garage sale, for a dollar fifty in a ziplock bag. ABC fridge magnets, like I had as a child. Just seeing these colorful tools elicited such memories, evoked such deep feelings that I nearly cried on the spot. So we bought them all up, and we took them home, and you spent the afternoon spelling the few words you knew with them on the fridge. You had to stand on a chair, but that’s okay. It was a special event.

We started to learn a new word every single day. Every day I would pick a new word for you, and you would learn to spell it in the morning before school. It helped, and you started to do better on spelling tests and building your vocabulary. Hell, you were even proud of yourself, which put an enormous smile on my face. So words became our tool, and I read to you every night, and sometimes you read to me, and we played word games and used words to make eachother laugh and learn. You started writing your own short stories and sharing them with me, and the morning of your 7th birthday, I used the magnets to spell, “Happy birthday, sweet baby! I love you!” and all was well.

“Mommy, what does t-e-r-m-i-n-a-l spell?” you asked.

I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t. I told you I didn’t know. You didn’t believe me, of course, but we didn’t push the subject. So we sat in the hospital room, you in the bed, growing weaker and weaker, playing scrabble and doing crosswords and word searches. I brought it all home with me, but couldn’t bring it back into the house. It was tainted by being attached to those last months. Much as I longed for a piece of you back, it was too late, and all I had left were the magnets. How unusually poetic was it that when I entered the kitchen that first day back, awake for 48 hours, the feel of your cold hand still in my own palm, my hair unwashed for days, that as I entered the kitchen, I saw you’d arranged them sometime before we checked in for good.

“Best mom, love you!”

I’ve refused to replace my fridge for years now. It barely works, and I’ve hauled it to a few new homes to boot, but I refuse to give up what little piece of you you left behind for me. People don’t last forever. But their words, oh their words last for a lifetime.

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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A Very Special Happy Comic

Our family is growing.

Haven’t been drawing as much lately, so I figured I’d whip up something quick with some new overlay skills I learned in paint because I’m still in 1997. Enjoy the soul crushing happiness everyone!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Katie Plays Dress Up In The Attic

technologiesIt seemed like she’d spent her entire childhood up here in this attic.

Sitting on this box labeled “costumes”, staring at the sole window in the attic, Katie couldn’t help but feel like this had been her bedroom, and not her actual bedroom. She swore she’d spent way more time in this attic than her own bedroom over the years, mostly playing dress up when she was younger, but then coming up here to read or just escape the world.

Now she still played dress up, but in the theater at her college, or in short, independent films she sometimes got cast in. Not for “fun” anymore, just for “work”. But why not? When did fun turn into work, and why couldn’t work be fun? Why couldn’t she sometimes throw on a princess costume or a pirate outfit and just play pretend again? Why not right now, in fact? So she tore open a box, ripped out some stuff and then, in the bottom of the box, found the dress. Not her mothers wedding dress, no, that was in her parents closet. No, this was the dress. The prom dress. The one she’d once heard her sister describe, saying it was what she’d wear to prom in high school when they got there.

As she pulled out the prom dress and got unclothed, she felt strange. Her sister hadn’t worn this, she had, and it still felt odd on her. Zipping up the back, she glanced back down into the box and discovered that beneath the prom dress was something else…something small and…stained. Oh god. It was the other dress. The one she’d been wearing when they’d crashed. They’d kept it all these years. Oh, how lonely the attic became once it was devoid of two little girls, and only had the one. Now instead of playing dress up together up here, Katie played alone, the sound of her sisters laugh never far off. Katie started spending her time solely up in the attic after the accident, after she died, making it essentially her bedroom. She described the prom dress to their grandmother when discussing what sort of dress she’d want for the occasion, and to nobody’s surprise, their grandmother sewed it for her.

Even now, even during prom, she was still playing dress up. Different dress, different room, but still playing pretend. Katie now wondered how much of her life had been mired in the swamps of playtime, of the bowels of imagination. How much time had been spent in this very attic, escaping a reality, escaping into another reality, as another person, perhaps even a person who still had her sister. It wasn’t enough to lose her sister, now her folks were selling the house and moving to Vermont, and she was going to lose the attic as well. Memories are not physical, they don’t do justice the places the memories are made. Suddenly, a clunking sound behind her, and she spun to find Charles coming in.

“Whoa, nice dress,” he said, “Uh…you about ready to start bringing some things down to the moving truck?”

“…I think so, yeah,” Katie replied, looking back at all the costumes on the floor, “Why did you get into film?”

“I like to tell stories,” Charles said, shrugging, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, “I mean, I like trying to tell stories anyway, heh, not that it ever works out that they get produced, but hey, that’s a screenwriters curse I suppose.”

“Did you ever want to be someone else?”

“Is that why you act?”

“Would you hate me if I said I hate myself? That I want to escape me and become someone new?”

“Who doesn’t want that,” Charles replied, “But no, of course I wouldn’t hate you. I understand, I know what you’ve been through. I love you.”

Katie smiled and picked up all the stuff from the floor, plopped it back into the box, folded the box tops shut and handed it to Charles.

“This stuff going to the storage or your folks?”

“That’s going to our place,” Katie said, placing her hand on her stomach, “It’ll be put to good use.”

As Charles and Katie turned to leave the attic, Katie looked back for one last time and swore, at least for a split second, that she could hear her sisters laugh. But her sister would be proud of her now, she knew that for a fact, and so now was a new time. A time to play dress up somewhere else. Because that’s all life is, isn’t it? Pretending to be someone else. All adults are just children playing pretend. And with that, she shut the door.

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Are You Happy?

Sorry I haven’t been posting here as often, I’ve just been very busy, somewhat with what I’m posting about right now.

This project will take a bit to get going, but here’s the first of a few pieces slowly trickling out to start. “How To Ruin Your Entire Life” are videos that, via different mediums and art styles, take a sincere, bleak look at depression and mental illness, and ask if they’re worth feeling that bad about. The first advert is titled “Are You Happy?”. You can find these over at the Vimeo page, or get each one (and more content) early by subscribing to my Patreon!

I hope you guys like this, as it was a bitch and a half to get finished, even with all the film editing skills I’ve managed to accrue over the years. I look forward to putting out more of this sort of thing. Enjoy!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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All Her Dog Teeth

a story about time and teeth(1)It’s March, which means it’s new short story time! This time, you can read a scifi love story featuring a truly horrifying monster.

“ALL HER DOG TEETH” takes place in 3074, and the only lasting structure for miles is a lighthouse, manned by a 37 year old Merideth Mooney. She’s been manning it since she was 17 years old, and was told to wait here in case anyone came back on the boats…but nobody ever came back. So, since then she’s lived a very quiet life, cleaning up the empty ships that returned. Then, one morning, a boat does come back, and in it is a young black woman named Hazel Bloom, who tells Merideth that they’ve met before, and she’s here to help her.

I’m pretty proud of this one, and I think it’s MUCH better than February’s story, so there’s that too. Anyway, thanks for the support and I hope you enjoy this months story!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the satirical online newspaper of “Nowhere, US”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!