Charelle Landers
Bio
Published author, (A Serious of Unfortunate Events, pen name Jessica Wright) and mother to six wonderful children. I find that writing is a healing passion of purpose and the ultimate pursuit to happiness.
Stories (12)
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Small Town
Dear St. Louis, What a ride? A long haul of battles endorsed with signatures formed from fears and nightmares, with laughter and anger. From backyard barbecuing, to the long sunny walks to the other side of town. There’s nothing more than I’ll remember about you. The place that birth me, the bridges that hurt me, and the land that blessed and cursed me. The beautiful arch grounds, the highway sounds, the smells of challenges existing right before you exit. There’s no place like home, is what the old wives tales speak of. The humble beginnings, the accolades, the friendships that felt like forever, the relationships that turned into never, and the stench of the river flowing through the city on a humid summer evening . The days were young and I didn’t know that those were the golden bridge to my makeup. The mysteries that will forever play a part in my head along with the solved murder cases that still haunts me. It’s time we say goodbye for good. It was such a joy allowing you to root me, but like every apple one must fall and grow elsewhere. I can’t imagine the days when life mattered more than letting you go. I can never get back grandmas cooking, daddy’s visits or even the candy lady who use to let us get more than we can afford just for $2.00. I can do nothing but embrace the world from the ground beneath my feet, as tears well in my eyes, I can finally begin to understand truth. It’s not where you come from it’s where you’re going. I found my confidence to fight all from your city lights, I found my courage to dream because of your poverty, I found my reasons to love, even when it wasn’t given to me. You’re a bad mother fucker, some people you broke, some people you made. I promised myself through these notes that one day I’ll make your name smile again, it’s just not from the crumbling soil of living inside your land. I will never forget the trouble that lurked, the buildings that sat as staples to my childhood now gone, the school districts that poured more into the kids who showed effort than the ones who needed attention, the swag, the mall trips without permission. The small city where everyone’s fighting just because the turf mattered, hoods meant more than life and money means more than family. The times are wild, I could never make peace through the chaos, and never understood why everyone continued fighting when love could’ve been a Black rep. I remember them field trips. I remember fighting to save what couldn’t be changed and that’s the moment I knew it started with self. Beneath the surface of the gun smoke was fundamentals, if I could survive there, success has got to be in me. I learned over the past decade that I cannot love you because you weren’t made to love me, I cannot carry you around anymore. My soul was placed on different corners, and I fell in love with an atmosphere that breathe life. This place is somewhere with stillness, somewhere with lights that shine without dimming, somewhere where peace is the treasure, down in the valley and kindness greets me with support. Somewhere where love doesn’t hurt. I feel as if I’m at a thousand funerals of my loved ones writing this farewell, but I have to say this. I have to replace what no longer brings me safety. I have to go somewhere where death isn’t the destiny of fate I would be met with for choosing to make a difference, or for the betterment of my own sanity. No family dysfunction, no late night hours roaming the city while dangers lurked, no being used by the word love and publicly shamed for it. No lies and manipulation, no grief and hurt, no depletion in my soul as I choose to do the inner work. Somewhere where my grind means more to me than having designer, where my family means more to me than looking for a man to be a provider. I found a place unfamiliar with your speed. A place I know that’s just right at the pace it moves just for me. Here, where the air is fresher, the kids are classier, bikes can be rode all day long and no arguing or the neighbors yelling. The biggest hope of all is that you have no concern about the neighbors shooting up or smoke crack at the playground in front of them. A place where your meeting up looks like growth, not hair weaves, extensions, and viral video uploads. A place where the mountains weren’t personal but were a beautiful sight to see. A place that offers me peace. Peace that I never believed was real, peace that didn’t test my endurance level but my heart, peace that didn’t allow struggle to be the reason to destiny swap, but peace that instilled dedication. Where accountability doesn’t look like you’re falling in love with Satan. Peace that can’t be explained but it can only felt. The demons that I’ve fought so hard to cast down was me carrying this city along hoping that one day I’ll come home. A city that left me to be my worst, and the souls that refuse to leave my ancestors blood in the trails of change will never understand while I will never call St. Louis home again. I love my city, but I’ll be damned if I fuck with my city, but nevertheless you’ll always be my city. We have just become strangers and there’s no reintroducing after 9 years of being loved exclusively, I want to continue counting, I don’t want my days numbered because someone couldn’t needed an accountant. There’s nothing more better than being free from the pain of my city. The joys of love that has found me gives me a new name for my city. #Dream Catcher!
By Charelle Landers2 months ago in Motivation
The Archives. Top Story - October 2025.
The Archives Walking to her post she noticed her manager shuffling through papers. “What’s wrong?” She asked. The stern stare in her manager’s eyes made her forget she showed interest. Her boss has always been a hardcore man, when he walked you can tell he was going somewhere important. When he talked you can tell he meant business. He was always dressed and had a significant amount of respect throughout the company. He was mean but in the right way, a way that earned him the title of boss. Lately, she has noticed this has been disorganized, and she strolled in today to see what was going on, his desk was messy, he didn’t smile like his usual self, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in weeks.
By Charelle Landers2 months ago in Fiction
My Voice. Content Warning.
Feels like I’m stuck in this inferno of what I thought was love. It will never be, abuse is not love it always ends in catastrophe. Coming from a long line of people, a parent who is evil and a group of individuals who wishes to deceive you. You get stuck pained in different strokes, hoping to never commit the worst praying and prying your hands away from the dirt. Listening to the sounds of trouble lurk, as you lay still hoping that you know your worth. Self love only exists from the makeup people wear to hide the pain behind the shadows that kept love hidden, long enough before we met at the time of goodbye. Love shouldn’t make you cry, in love you shouldn’t live a lie, and that’s all I’ve seen, pain overloaded through a man’s fist, yells and screams, plastered walls drug induced ranged, mixed with alcohol. I see you, a person filled with the definitive definition of what he thinks are his own failures, hoping to find a woman weak enough to wail her, just to impale her. Gratitude comes from the grace of my discernment, you have left me cold as the pavement showed me no mercy. Withered away underneath the concrete, the rose still blossoms but no one gets to see what’s bury beneath. I hate that I met you, pain became a staking change where my opportunities didn’t fail you, although, you will never love. My mother will be the judge that gave you the gavel to hurt my heart, you broke me in places because I didn’t know my heart. I gave endlessly to beings who considered me a problem while I suffered through survival. I shadow pain like I’m trying to learn the impossible, how can I forgive when y’all refuse to let me let go. I want to heal and this is what you know. You promise that the end was near only to find out love has gave birth to everything I had begin to fear. The mirrored light is only a reflection of a soul you tried to bury and leave the corpse hidden behind a wooded area hoping that I was Jesus’s bride and not carried. Using the Bible for more than a conscious effort, and teaching the word to my beneficiaries. I hate this sorrow and I’m not sorry for not loving you anymore!
By Charelle Landers4 months ago in Poets
Dear Pain
Dear Pain, It’s like I met you before my parents, a desire you had long before my birthday became a number that I carried. Fired on the logos, for the pathological ways you designed. You knew how much your burden was something I never desired. I always inquired that I’ve been through much, yet never making excuses constantly picking you up. You’re like simple math, I add you take a way, then you multiply in the face of pain, you never subtract unless it’s from me. Betrayal came at a price from you to me. Your elastic agile function comes with a functional structure, categorized horizontally on a multifunctional structure. The surface where I met you felt like a pit, caved in my own carbonation, but blistered instead of bubbled from laying in your shit. Your fire was a blaze that burned long before these pages. So today, I want to write to you from my heart. It’s just me and you, no kids, no lovers, no distractions from your covers. I need the truth. Why did you choose me before I ever knew you? Was it my past life? I’m just trying to figure out, I know you can’t have pain without purpose, so I scribbled you out. Let’s write this out loud. You scream when I touch a place that you try to pretend to hide. Did I leave you with no protection? Did I forget the goddess in me was a woman breeding as my own intellectual? My desires for growth leave you clinging more. I let you walk away with no words, yet you remind me of the pain, that hurts more. Was it my childhood trauma? Or is it the fact that the only woman I had to honor was my mama? I’m asking. I’m saying dear pain what are we gaining? We keep getting back together just for you to do the same thing. You keep treating me like my lover, you come wrapped as a gift, if death and life lie in the power, why does it seem like I’m befitting the thrills? And you keep spinning the wheel. You come in, leave me abandoned and broken, you tell me you love me but only when I’m healing. You make no sense to my antelabium, speaking once without a seance is like chanting at low volumes. You come without being summoned, you hurt without being wanted, you harbor the pain from my insides to break me more for your laughs and my cries. Making me feel less of a woman. You’re cruel and insular, unusual in your way of thinking and always playing with the ventricles of the heartbreaks being encrypted. I delete you and you find ways to come back, I heal and my mind changes only for you to attack. Dear pain, you ache and I don’t think you know. You can only show up in the ways in which you’ll know that I’ll grow. Eventually you know I’ll have to let you go. Not divorcing my lover, but divorcing my somber, the tears versus the joys when I can embrace my summer. It is the pressure that comes with a life being reborn. If I wasn’t given over to pain for the process of being won, how would I know that the games you play are because of how I get things done? We role play the same! You’re Dick and I’m Jane, we just “Go, Go, Go,” and you come “In and Out”, as if you have no place to go and I haven’t figured this out. “I See You.” Dear pain, I don’t do refunds or exchanges, this is your final notice, it’s time for us to become strangers.
By Charelle Landers4 months ago in Poets
Dear Love
(Revised) Dear Love, I have let you become undefined. My reasonable existence comes with my immediate expectations. I look to the unveiling of my vision to see beyond my own sight. My imagination has become bruised, my heart palpitations has become a rhythm I can’t dance to. The questionable sense of life comes in the fallacy of a lovers drought. The discomfort has become a fraught, the bitter agony awaiting a call for an awakening. My lover has become my journal. I empty my vessel hoping to return to the comfort of my suite. Yet, my lovers duty is called in the secret places we meet, the dungeon. I play the dragon slayer hoping that I’m rescued from Repunzel’s revenge. I seek to ascend, the conclusive truth, collided with the lies of my foreshadowing pain. Dear love what’s your name? We have become strangers passing by, the breeze of love has become cold, I’m awaiting beneath the surface, yet, still drowning in what’s worthy. The tales follow the trails of untraditional cycles, yet the deserting of my soul comes from the withered agility. A minds proclivity, the mindless civility, living for the mysteries. Already there is love, from birth to death, from death to life the depth of love as a sacrifice. Love shavings shedding, as I sharpen myself, leaving no room for leverage but taking a leap over the ledge. Beheaded at the sorcerers stone, the rod that strikes, the magic within, is the power of the bitter light. Entrusted as love is euthanized, empowered, from the enamored of my enamel of my lovers bite. Embroidered with the mark of the pain that lasts forever. Carried inside the asylum of my own insanity, killing my ego and dying, yet love finds me in my divine timing, defying definitions as deflatable. Debating again with I love you, it becomes a tune that’s atoned with fuck you. I’m stuck here thinking bodily energy is the same symmetry that ignited the powers of love. Left in the middle of moments I’ve lived through but never had the reasons to enjoy. I dream of a white dress, a house, a farm, a picket fence and a man who’s strong in his arms capable to uplift. Yet love has been a repeat of codependency an accolade of repetitious desires of unlearned lessons. The discretion of self hatred no woman dares to speak, the feeling is unworthy of the uncertainty of what lovers teach. Dear love, can we meet?
By Charelle Landers4 months ago in Poets
Withdrawals
Withdrawals… withdrawals got me like sometimes I wish I fought for what could’ve been, but then I think we are better off as friends… insecurities creep up on a level unconcerning, hoping for true love keep leading me to you while I’m discerning. Withdrawals have me like my rollercoaster is not rocky today, I’ll be stable, I won’t make this a fable, and I won’t get all cocky to say. The least of my worries was buried in your troubles, but when I saw you it was like I knew you from a block away. Withdrawals got me like I don’t need you I mean I don’t but my soul crying in the cravings like a White Castle crave case desired to fulfill my emptiness. Emotions asking you to dedicate what you can’t even give you, pain has me rereading text messages when I’ve already forgiven see. The ignorance of control has withdrawals in a stronghold, choking on the desires to tell you how I feel. I often feel like I made a til death do us part but reality lets me know that’s not real. Withdrawals has me asymptomatic that’s why I pick up the phone and I’m mad when your inconsistency becomes a way forward. Withdrawals have me like am I sorry for spazzing I mean I’m not because I’ll do it again, just so he can know, but then I want him here I need him to hold me close, at least accountable to my childish ways, I mean I can be so mannish but his manhood has me trapped in a 1000 places. Withdrawals have me locked inside I keep trying to heal you but then I understand your insides. It’s crazy how the angel and the demon come to light, a tiny yin and yang flame but when we’re together we ignite. The passage found in scripture I’m sinning if I get you, and I know these other men will never ever amount not even half to what you will be. I mean withdrawals have me afraid to understand that we all fall short and you’re just trying to understand. Withdrawals have me like never giving up, but then I say I need comfort when you’re not picking up. Replacing the head for a cell is like getting plasma with no bone marrow transplant. The transparency of I hate you then you love me, now I love you and your hate speaks loud. Withdrawals have me like consequences fuck em, I’ll call the president and say I love him, but if he ever does me dirty I’ll cut him and tell the police he’s lucky. Withdrawals have me like you’re weird and strange, you don’t even know God, I need me a godly man. Withdrawals have me like I’m the lame muse, all I do is harass and abuse, withdrawals have me like damn this bruise, holding on to you I can’t heal without your truth.
By Charelle Landers7 months ago in Poets
Her Pain
I should’ve cut you off at the first sign of disrespect, but I felt you were worth more. You played the game in front of my face and I decided to want more. I gave you another chance, against my better judgement, friends kept asking why I love this man who is definitely in love with another. See I believed in your deception, kept lying for discretion; was your bitter secret and your heavy burden even kept uplifting you through my encouragements. You played me like a sour skittles left me there in my sweet bitterness. Yet, you carried around my heart as if it was something that was freely gifted. I gave you what you didn’t deserve. So the next time I choose to love again, I will make him earn this loving dance. The flowers, the rain the joys of sunshine all comes with the walk of pain. See I gave you what I didn’t see in myself a potential to break at your exit, but my existence should’ve been your acceptance, yet the foundations of me crumbled. I stood tall but only for a little while until I was surrounded by my sinister somber. I believed you were the answers to the problems I had endured, that’s why I went so hard for you. Gave you more than I ever could and I didn’t want a gift card from you. See your cheap desires of love comes from the broken bottles of a bloody heart that beats only at your push to start yet your monetary value decreases every where it turns. I gave you a drive while you were my drivers Ed, I gave you my intellect and that explains why you love my head. You played with it on levels I never thought I could reach, my deepest desires my crazy secrets all bottled up in my creativity. See I showered you with respect and even loyalty. I held right to your secrets while you kept ignoring me, deploying me at your ownership like you were my sole proprietor, you couldn’t deny my love for God and him being my soul provider. That angered you, it made me see that the mistakes I made were made for me, a deep seated root buried beneath a surface humbled by the grace of truth. See I recognized you when you wanted no recognition, I scanned your face in hopes that it would detect something you felt you were missing. I was your third eye but the examination was an example of my breaking f there was my light you wanted to dim all for her saving. See it was my youth that carried me to a past emotional scar that took its shape like embroidery and you still keep carving me only to my craving. I invited you in so in so many words I allowed you to break me!
By Charelle Landersabout a year ago in Poets
Toddler Blues
Not that long ago you entered the world. Everything seemed fine. I was afraid but open to understanding exactly what I needed to do to nurture every aspect of your life no matter what changes it brought me. Then one day you a had birthday, and things weren't funny-faced photographs and sleepless nights. You began to be curious about so many aspects of life. I don’t know whether to let you do it or stop you from exploring. In my mind, I have to protect you as my life depends on it, but in your mind, you have to figure out the good versus the bad. It's hard when you have the blues. You cry, run, jump, play, yell, scream, and kick. You enjoy bath time and snack time, but you always want snacks. Having you on a schedule is the hardest to say the least because you just run away when I try to keep you there and train you to do what I say. Simply because your little mind is wandering in the paths of growth and stability. I love being a mother, but you toddlers are the most challenging aspects of my daily routine that I choose to live with daily. I can't wait until you grow older, go to school show everybody what you have learned, and continue the exploration of life. Your light is needed and I love the laughter but you also bring me tears, sometimes I want to cry like you and throw a tantrum. But hey I'm a big girl with mommy blues. I teach you and guide you only to be left with the word no at bedtime. I think you're amazing and bountiful with all the little tricks and trades you learn along your exploration and journey through life. I love you, with every ounce of my being and with every bit of my heart and I choose you because you are the smallest biggest joy in my world. It's hard though. I don't remember your older siblings being this hard, you get into everything and I can't close my eyes for two seconds because you'll find something to do that's not what you should be doing, rather it's taking out the pots and pans or playing in things you got out of the cabinet, whatever it may be you keep me distracted from my world of blues. You are the reason I try my hardest, you are the motivation to fight for our love and light, you are my everything and I love the truth you make me see. You're a terrible two, but an amazing form of reality. I still want to run away. I want to run away from the markings on the wall, the stained couch, and the potty training. But I will always run to you and your hugs, your kisses, and your cries. The day I met you I knew you would make me cry, but I never knew it because you wanted to rain on my parade and boss me around all the time. It's funny because I remember you doing that since day one, and I know your mind is not broad enough to understand who you are but I want to be the first to tell you that I have my hands full. You enjoy the simple things but make everything so difficult. I tell myself, when I finally rest that tomorrow will bring new laughs, or new tears I guess it all depends on how you feel about getting dressed and eating breakfast. Oh, the joys of motherhood will never get old. Love you tots!
By Charelle Landers2 years ago in Families
To The Girls Who Don’t Give Second Chances
To the girls who don’t give second chances. The changes that come with heartbreak is like a simplistic give and take, the games he chooses to play leaving you disappointed time and time again and this is all when you’re still getting to know him, but you’re ignoring the red flags, hoping maybe this will work. The inconsistent game of his lies, the problem with his secret time, the sacred heart he claimed was mines, all the while sitting there lying. And you’re trying to figure out when should you go, do you need evidence that he doesn’t love you the way he should’ve shown. You fall in love with his mask then he does his daily tasks. You know the gym, his homies and back in your bed, his confirmation weakens your confidence and everything you thought you were isn’t it. The truth became reality he’s not the man you thought he was, he’s abusive and combative and worst part he’s using and abusing your trust. You claimed you never wanted to feel incomplete in love, a year goes by but you’re hoping he’s changed never really breaking up. To the girls who don’t give second chances, his first mistake was knowing that you deserved better then coming with the same games as Peter, John and Timothy. Too many times he’s left you feeling empty. I mean I get it, refusing to settle because of the games of some nigga. He proclaims you’re the girl of his dreams and for you he’ll do anything, yeah anything to you if you know what I mean. He keeps your pussy wet and your eyes, bacteria vaginosis and loud cries. PH balance all in discord and you pretended you didn’t know where it came from. I mean this man has got to be willing to do whatever for you but makes you act different. Then when you address the problems he claims you act different, but all three months ago he pretended like he didn’t show you any different. Claiming that he loves you like you wouldn’t notice the difference. Say you wanna leave but now he puts you in a position to start birthing his children, he’s knowing you’re willing all the while playing games and telling other women how he loves them disowning his children. To my women who don’t give second chances because they’re so loyal in the beginning. Teach your daughters don’t give second chances because he knows who you are in the beginning.
By Charelle Landers2 years ago in Poets
Generational Wellness
We oftentimes hear the word generational alongside sublet words such as curses and or wealth. We never hear the subtle term generational wellness. Why is it important to a society that we have generational wellness? Because society needs to heal itself, before the future explodes with more madness and chaotic disruption for more generations to come. Our children need to understand the vocal effects of generational change. When we understand that generational liability, is the insurance of healing, we can heal, not only ourselves but those that are reincarnated into a society where wellness should benefit the wellbeing of everyone in life, with exploring generational wellness we offer a servitude of freedom.
By Charelle Landers3 years ago in Motivation
