life

  • The Box Upstairs

    The most dangerous people are the ones who have nothing to lose. The box had my name on it. Not my adult name. The name I wrote across everything when I was nine, with the last letter curled backward because I hadn’t learned to make it properly yet. It was sitting in the attic beneath…

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  • The Ones Who Remember

    They underestimated what you could do, who you are. The first attempt happened before you could speak. You wouldn’t remember it. That was the point. By five, you had already learned to watch people’s faces before listening to their words. By eight, you understood that love occasionally packed a suitcase. By twelve, betrayal had introduced…

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  • Tonight at 7:15 p.m. CST someone passed away. They left a single rainbow and sun showers over the Texas Sky.  Home. There was no thunder. No violent sky splitting itself open in grief. Just rain falling through sunlight, as if the heavens had forgotten they were supposed to choose between mourning and celebration. And then…

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  • Whose House?

    There was a woman living in my house who looked exactly like me. I noticed her before I saw her. That is how these things usually begin. Not with apparitions standing at the foot of the bed or doors slamming themselves in the middle of the night. Nothing so theatrical. It began with a coffee…

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  • The most dangerous woman at the burning was not the one tied to the stake. It was the woman standing in the crowd. She had arrived early. Before the square filled with bodies. Before the priest climbed the wooden platform. Before the men dragged the accused through the street and explained to everyone why another…

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  • Before they called her dangerous, they called her divine. That is the part of the story they tend to leave out. Before there were warnings whispered about women who knew too much, there were women people traveled miles to find. Women who understood the moon before anyone bothered naming its phases. Women who knew which…

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  • The First God Was a Woman

    When the creation turns on its creator the world is dark. A woman provides life. And somehow, man convinced the world that made him that he was the one holding the power. There is something almost beautiful about the arrogance of it. He arrived screaming, covered in her blood, entirely dependent upon her body for…

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  • Someone’s Daughter

    Actually, I’m my mother’s revenge. The voice she didn’t have, the boundaries she couldn’t keep, the consequence nobody expected when they mistook her kindness for permission. Her story isn’t yours to tell. But tell them all I’m coming. Not for blood. That would be too easy. I am coming for the things women like her…

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  • As you wish..

    Perhaps the cruelest thing God ever did was remember everything. Imagine eternity with no locked doors. No unanswered questions. No accidents. No wrong turns. No lovers who leave before morning. No death waiting somewhere beyond the candlelight. No possibility that the thing standing in the shadows might actually hurt you. You know everything. You are…

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  • The Reader

    Some people are merely reading the chapters of their life as they are exposed, not everyone can be a writer. There is something unsettling about realizing you have been holding the book upside down. You thought the blank pages meant you were supposed to fill them. You thought the pen belonged to you. It never…

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