April 2018 – Mertiya Writes

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Emotional abuse, thoughts of suicide, thoughts of self-harm

Summary: There’s a monster in Edith’s closet, and it always growls when she upsets her parents.

Inside Front Cover

This is my diary. Don’t read it unless you’re me.

–Edith Rebecca, Planet Earth, Real Universe

Day 1

There’s a monster in my closet. I heard it growling last night after Dad put me to bed. I wonder if it comes from the Dream Universe. The closet might be one of the places where the boundaries are thin. They are called liminal spaces.

When I heard the monster growling, I put the blanket over my head, because blankets are good monster shields. They block the passage from the Dream Universe to the Real Universe, so Dream things can’t get through. They only work at night, though, so if anything showed up during the day, I’d be in trouble.

Continue reading “Here There Be Monsters” →

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit sexual images, suicide

Summary: Ryder, a soldier/scholar who left their hometown of Bridehive a decade ago, returns and reunites with a childhood friend, only to discover that the war they have been fighting has followed them.

Writing by me, art by Zomburai.

Glossary of Important Terms:

Werman: a person who went through testosterone puberty.

Woman: a person who went through estrogen puberty.

Noman: a person who went through combined testosterone/estrogen puberty.

Man: a person.

The road to Bridehive was long, grey, and winding, and it hurt my feet. I didn’t remember the stones being so uneven when I was leaving, but it had, admittedly, been a long time. I was wearing armor when I left, a bright mail shirt beneath a lamellar tunic, but I’d abandoned the shirt somewhere along the way, and now the tunic was tucked under my arm instead, along with a rolled-up tent and some cooking equipment. Over my shoulder was a bundle containing the rest of my worldly goods, consisting of a half-melted tallow candle, a flint to light it, a talisman of Gauselen, and a very thick notebook that was getting worryingly close to being filled with my small, spiky writing. Someone once told me I wrote as if I were fighting a war: even the look of my letters was sharp. Continue reading “Augury of Birds” →