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Is There Anything Else I Can Do For You?

a short story(1)This months Payhip short story is now available. Now, to be fair, this is a re-release, as this story was previously only available in my collected work “Nice Girls Don’t Burn Ants”, but now you can buy just this story! Anyway, a description:

Nathan Fielding has the house to himself. He’s supposed to be getting his things out in time for the divorce, but that’s taken a backseat ever since he woke up and found his daughters pet Finch dead that morning. And if things were’t weird enough already, now there’s a human sized papier mache bird talking to him, and it seems to know a lot about his life.

There will be a NEW original story next month, I’ve just been swamped with projects and couldn’t manage to knock out a new short story this time. But here you can read this one, now available all on its own! Enjoy!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

 

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Birds My Father Hated: Episode 7 “Parrots”

In this episode, Mavis remembers her speech tutor, and more importantly, her speech tutors parrot, and how they changed her life for the better. If you like this podcast, want to support it or help me make more like it in the future, then go support my Patreon, where for a buck a month, you can have access to next weeks episode right now!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Birds My Father Hated: Episode 6 “Seagulls”

In this weeks episode, Mavis tells a story about a childhood field trip to the beach, and the tragedy that follows. If you like this podcast, want to help support more episodes or other work like it, or just want next weeks episode TODAY, go subscribe to my Patreon!

Buy My Book! (50% off til May 14th) Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Celia Drowns In The Basement

technologiesShe’d shut and locked the door at the top of the stairs, but thinking now, it was a good thing this basement had been basically set up as a bomb shelter in the 50s, because locking the goddamned door wouldn’t do much good alone. Celia then started to walk downstairs, and put a chair in the center of the room and walked around it a few times, taking in the basement, in all its glory.

God, the things that had happened in this basement, a perfect example of the age old sentiment “if walls could talk”, because damn, the stories they would tell. Memories flooded her mind instantly, which made her smile at the irony of the euphemism. There was the time she and her older sister had hidden down here from their father after her older sister had hit the bumper of his car with her bike, and they were afraid he’d be mad, but in the end, he was just happy they were okay and told them to come to him and never be afraid. Her mind turned to the time she and Ashley Mossica got together and played a bunch of low fi cassette tapes in the basement at max volume because they had the house to themselves…god that weekend. The taste of her strawberry lipstick, how she had to hide the stains left behind by the kisses on her neck with a scarf, which thankfully worked considering it was snowing outside, and nobody questioned her clothing choices. The way that, the night of high school graduation, while her sister went to dinner with their parents, she and Ashley decided to stay in the basement and lay on the couch together, discussing plans for the future. None of which ever came true.

Now though…what had once been an escapist dream was now just an old, ratty basement in a home that could no longer sustain it. She’d since dropped out of college and been unable to afford her medications, and since her parents had discovered that she’d been seeing a woman from her support group. So much for parents loving you no matter what. Her parents hadn’t kept the basement up to snuff, and it had fallen into a state of disrepair, but now….now it’d be more than just that. She’d see to that. Sure, the rest of the house would remain fine, but this room would always and forever be Celia Armak’s. She sighed, grabbed an axe and started cutting into the old rusted pipes in the basement walls, which started to flood the room. Celia then sat down in the chair, strapped her legs to the chair legs with rope and cuffed her hands with an old pair of handcuffs after she’d put a blindfold on. She smiled, listening to the water as it began to fill the room and soak her shoes and socks, and climbing ever higher every second.

This basement, the games with her sister, the derby car projects with her father, the dance lessons with her mother, the first kisses, the loss of virginity, the first suicide attempt before college…yes, this room was her entire history, her entire life. The water quickly rose to her neck, and she craned her head back to give herself a few more seconds of breath, thinking about Ashley, thinking of all the promises they’d made to one another, all the things she’d planned to do with her life; go to college and become a famous clothing designer, maybe eventually do costume work for films…but not now. No. The water overtook her, and the chair was floating, as was she, still strapped to it. Her head was getting lighter, her thoughts foggier, her breathing tighter, and soon she was thrashing violently, and before she knew it, she was at peace, and soon Celia wasn’t thinking anything at all anymore.

“You can have the house,” she’d thought as she’d set this up, “But the fucking basement is mine.”

Buy My Book! (50% off til May 14th with code 842S65WXTO

Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Golden Years

Don't stop just(10)

So, starting May 7th, I will be posting the remainder of the 1st season of my serialized fiction “Golden Years” on Patreon. Each chapter will be released there a whole WEEK early before being posted publicly to The Stag Network! That’s right, subscribers get entire chapters of stories now before they’re posted anywhere else! For more information on the series, here’s the synopsis:

GOLDEN YEARS follows a man named Boris Minsky as he comes to terms with what’s left of his life in a retirement home, and those around him. Bleak, yet hopeful, the series is a reminder that it’s never too late to start recovery and become a better you.

You can read the first 2 chapters that are already up right here, and there’s lots of other series at that site as well, with much more on the way all the time! Anyway, that’s the scoop, so I hope you guys enjoy what’s coming! Thanks for the support!

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Birds My Father Hated: Episode 4 “Crows”

In this weeks episode, Mavis recounts her brief time spent at college, and how a local murder of crows became more family to her than her own family ever was. If you like this episode, want to help produce more content, or want new episodes early, go subscribe to my Patreon for as low as a dollar a month!

Also, unrelated, but to make things a bit easier, I have added a “Shop” page to my blog, so now you can click there and read about each thing I have available, and each include a link to the Payhip page for purchase! If you like my content, please consider buying my work or donating, because this is my sole income, and I’m currently a month and a half behind in rent, so, yeah. Thanks!

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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To Drown In Sorrow

She’d walked into her bathroom last night, locked the door and ran a bath. Once the tub was full, she climbed in fully clothed, laid down and relaxed, then slowly lowered her head under the water and kept herself there until she started drowning. Those last few fleeting moments of her life, she didn’t think of anything except that someone would have to take her cat, and once it was over, it was over. The only reason anyone found her was because someone had gotten some of her mail, and when they went upstairs to give it to her, they realized the door was unlocked and she was nowhere to be found. When they finally forced their way into the locked bathroom, that’s where they discovered her body, gently floating in the water. She’d been dead for 3 days. Nobody had called her.

The game of phone tag began an hour later, when her family was informed, and her sister had to break the news to their parents. They all cried together over the phone, and her sister took it upon herself to continue calling her sisters friends to inform them of what had happened. Each one reacted in somewhat the same way, with small differences. Some broke out in sobs immediately, some went quiet with shock, and others weren’t all that surprised but were still sad nonetheless.

The thing is, nobody had called her. Nobody had reached out to her. Everyone knew how she felt, they’d known for years, and nobody had done a thing to help her not feel alone, even when she reached out she was often shut out because they had something else come up that was “more important”, and now, these people who had “more important” things to do than talk their suicidal friend down were wailing on their kitchen floors and beds and their own bathrooms because their friend had taken her own life, all while realizing maybe if they’d just said a single fucking thing to her, she would’ve opened up more and this wouldn’t have happened.

“Gone too soon”, “this was inevitable”, “these things happen”. No. She wasn’t gone too soon. She wasn’t a martyr. She was a fucking victim. She was a victim of ignoring that which made her friends uncomfortable, too uncomfortable to help their friend they could see was clearly in visible pain that was pulling her apart right in front of their eyes. And now? Now here they were, tossing out platitudes about the meaning of life and how there’s ultimately no helping these sorts of people. How this is the way they all wind up. Again, no. She’d wanted to talk. They didn’t want to listen. These things happen? Yeah. You’re damn right they do, especially when you actively turn the other cheek to it. She wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time, a victim of a crime or any of the sort. She did this to herself, because they’d all done it to her too. The way she saw it, nobody cared about her, so why should she care about herself?

She’d been brought into this world by loving parents, family who fawned over her, and she’d left without anyone. even. noticing. And the worst part was this happens far too goddamn often. But now she’d be nothing more than a photo on a shelf, her pain reduced to that of “oh, our daughter was unhappy”. She wasn’t unhappy. She was tired of being ignored, and she found the only way for people to care was to die.

If only someone had shown her otherwise.

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

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 or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!