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Chloe Empties Her Closet

technologies From the time she was five years old, the closet in Chloe Gallaghers bedroom had always been an object of fierce terror to her.

See, ever since she could remember, Chloe Gallagher had been convinced that there was a monster living inside of her closet. Now, cleaning it out the weekend before she was meant to leave for college, she couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been. Of course most children have wild, active imaginations, and a lot of children are scared of things like this; monsters under the bed, monster in the closet, a general fear of the dark and the unknown. But Chloe was no longer a child. She was almost twenty now and she was preparing to go to medical school. Standing there on that early summer evening, the late sun pouring past her blinds and splashing across her bedroom floor as she stared into the closet she was once so deathly afraid of, Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing.

See, Chloe also wasn’t like most kids because a lot of kids don’t grow out of that monster phase so quickly. Chloe did. Sure, she was scared, but she quickly found the closet she feared of housing a monster to be a safe haven from the rest of the home that housed an actual monster; her father. She could recall so many times once she was eight years old that she and her mother had to hide in closets, specifically Chloes closet because it had such a solid lock on it, just to escape the awful man they were trapped with. Eventually, as Chloe grew older, she realized the closet could be a much better place to spend her time. It was a rather small walk in, but she made it into a cozy space. She built a little pillow fort in there, cozy with blankets and books and snacks, and she’d spend all her free time alone in that closet.

When she came to realize she was in love with her friend Charlotte, whom she’d met the previous summer during college tours her school was making Juniors and Seniors take, she didn’t want to come out of the closet. She found it to be at odds with how she usually viewed the closet to begin with; a warm, safe little space just for her. Over the next year, she accepted that the two had nothing to do with one another, and came out to her mother, who continued to give her all the love in the world. See, Chloe and her mother, they were two peas in a pod. Her mother, Enid, had been brave enough to finally stand up to her father when he attacked one night, and killed him in self defense. Because of this bravery, Chloe admired her mom, and realized if she was brave, she too could do anything, no matter what someone else told her. So Chloe coming out to her mom just re-instilled that sense of bravery Enid knew they both had to do the things they knew they had to do in order to be happy.

Chloe stepped back, hands on her hips, as she looked into the closet once more. Now empty of boxes and clothes and her little hideaway, she could see it was just that and nothing more. A closet. Just a subroom attached to a bedroom. But to her, oh it was so much more, so so much more. The thought of even using a new closet somewhere different, some random college campus somewhere…it scared her. But she knew that better things were coming, newer things were coming. From one place to another, one school to another, one closet to another.

It was, after all, just a room.

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, 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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She Rode On A Dinosaur: A Short Story

a short story(2)This months (not so) short story is out! You can buy it right here! The description is as follows:

Heidi Beuford is a 9 year old girl, and is very sick. Between doctors appointments and visits to the local history museum, she often feels scared and lost, but Luna doesn’t. Luna Bell is a strong girl who rides a raptor named Triumph, and is out to find the truth about life in her fantasy world. As Luna attempts to discover the mystery behind The Great Fish and Heidi attempts to simply survive, together, the two will learn valuable lessons about life, death, and that sometimes being scared is necessary.

It’s a bit on the longer side than I intended it to be, or as any of the other stories usually are, but it’s a pretty good one I think. Definitely the longest of the bunch this year, clocking in at just over 8k words, so, yay. Anyway, read it and help me pay my rent, yeah? Thanks!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

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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Modern Museum Of Mistakes: Short Story

Ocean(1) Hey, Augusts short story is now out! Please buy it and help my girlfriend and I take care of some medical bills! I’m also linking our gofundme at the bottom of this page! Anyway, here’s a description of the story:

Lena Pilgrim, a woman in her late 30s, is taking on a late night security job at her local art museum as a way to make ends meet. One night, Lena finds herself with a new artist in the museum, and things quickly become strange when Lena notices the paintings on the walls start to mirror certain moments in her life, allowing her to view them in real time. Is this artist really an artist, or something more? Lena intends to find out, even if the truth hurts her.

Anyway, the story is available for purchase right here at the low, low cost of a buck fifty! Any and all sales will be extremely appreciated. Also, as I stated above, I am putting the GoFundMe my girlfriend started in here. I hate to do this sort of thing for we REALLY need the help, so if you could give anything at all, we’d be so super appreciative. Thank you so much! I promise to start updating this blog again regularly!

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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Baggage Claim: A Short Story

yoursite.tumblr.comJunes short story is now available to buy! Here’s a description:

When a woman dies trying to get her luggage off the carousel, everyone is held up even longer. Eventually, only two people remain; a young woman named Carmen and a young gay man named Eric, both of whom quickly come to realize they have a lot more in common than they ever could’ve imagined. BAGGAGE CLAIM is about creating a family when you have none, and looking to the least likely people to be the most important in your life.

So yeah, I think this is a pretty strong one, so check it out please? I’d be greatly appreciative! Also, for the rest of the month, ALL my works (aside from this because it’s brand new) at Payhip are 50% off with this coupon (MF5ZI9W2EX) for pride month! Support your favorite local broken lesbian! 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!

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Dogtooth

a short storyI kind of forgot to post this here until now, but there’s a new short story for the month available over at my Payhip! This one is a bit different, as it’s part of an ongoing short series, and they won’t be coming out consecutively, but if you’re interested, it’s out and I rather like it!

Alessa Perkins just wants to get some gas and keep on going towards her destination, but when she stops at this seemingly abandoned gas station in the desert, she soon finds herself stuck with an 11 year old girl who calls herself Courage and tells her how she’s waiting for her father to come home, while defending their gas station from The Flickers. What seems like a kid playing games quickly turns into a nightmare as Alessa realizes she’s stumbled into something she cannot run, or hide, from. The Flickers are real. And they are coming…

So there it is, and it’s part 1 of 5 parts, so yeah, it’s a scifi horror with a cool 11 year old heroine and her hatchet, killing monsters! What more do you want? Anyway, if you buy it, I’d be really appreciative and you’d be funding/supporting future projects, so yeah! Thanks! You can buy it here!

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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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!