E.K. Daniels
Bio
Writer, watercolorist, and regular at the restaurant at the end of the universe. Twitter @inkladen
Achievements (10)
Stories (210)
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Dear God
Dear God, sorry it’s been a while. I’m not really good at this prayer thing. Jesus camp kind of ruined the whole “benevolent guy in the sky” idea for me when I found out about hell and how I was most definitely going there if I wasn’t “saved”. And how that mass murder had a one-way ticket to heaven because he found you in prison. I guess serial killing is okay, but being an incredulous kid isn’t. Six-year-old me still has nightmares of being shamed in congregation, but I’m desperate. Can you still hear me? Have you ever?
By E.K. Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
Puberty Has Colonized My Land
The mirror’s function is pretty simple. It’s supposed to reflect who you are. But mine never has. My breasts extrude like peaks and valleys on a foreign landscape. Puberty has colonized my land, and my invaders refuse to retreat. They bring their arms to my body each month and are not satisfied until blood is shed. It is an unwinnable war, and all I want to do is wave my white flag in surrender. Or return my mirror. It has never reflected who I really am, and I fear it never will.
By E.K. Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
Sam the Snack Man
After fifteen years of marriage, you think you know someone. And you do, in a way. You know their habit of sneezing -just once- when they get out of the shower. You know the curve of their back when you're their big spoon. You can predict with precision the number of sparse hairs on their chin by the time five o'clock rolls around. But you can never really know someone, can you?
By E.K. Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
The Car Seat
She was overjoyed with her purchase. After hours of painstaking research, she had finally settled on the crème de la crème of car seats. It had extra leg space, it was height adjustable, impact resistant. It was built for comfort. But it couldn’t comfort her. The total came to $354. It was her utility bill. It was her groceries. But she would rather freeze in the most fridgid of winters or starve in a season’s blight than spare the fee. The car seat sat unboxed, eager for a companion. She was spared the child.
By E.K. Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
