Kendra Marya
Bio
Campervan living Canadian with a penchant for psychological thrills and cats.
B.A. Communication & Philosophy
Stories (29)
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The Millenial Partner
The French baguette sits on the counter next to the fruit bowl and I can’t resist it. I let my teeth sink into the flakey baked dough, leaving a flurry of crumbs behind. I know Geneviève will tell me off later. I sometimes wonder why she even lets me live with her. She’s always moaning about men and their child-like qualities, saying things like, “If I wanted kids, I would’ve had one by now. What I want is a partner. Someone who pulls their own weight.”
By Kendra Marya10 months ago in Fiction
A Stranger Truth
There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Sister Jillian prays; her rosary drapes around her youthful clasped hands. Her voice is frenetic, shaking on every syllable, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned…” She falls to her knees on the dank cobblestone floor, cowering. Her habit frames her anguished expression at what she’s uncovered.
By Kendra Maryaabout a year ago in Horror
Life’s a Breeze in Valdez, Alaska
During my Alaskan road trip, I was told the salmon were spawning in Valdez during August and that it is a must-see. Despite the backtracking, I caved and added it to my spontaneous itinerary. I’m glad I did. With shockingly beautiful glacial mountains, more fish than one can imagine, and a tragic historical past, there’s much intrigue to draw all kinds of folks to this special place.
By Kendra Maryaabout a year ago in Wander
The Forest Bath
Her body stiffens in the single bed in her campervan. There was a noise. Loud enough to pull her from the lull before sleep. She never should have parked here. She knew it. She ignored the gut feelings. Those pesky feelings that are often wrong, merely her anxious thoughts working their way through her nervous system. Her thoughts that've been shaped by a lifetime of watching true crime documentaries and horror movies.
By Kendra Maryaabout a year ago in Horror
The Apartment
March 31st, 2024 The lights flicker again, threatening to turn my apartment into a silent darkness. A shuddered breath releases from me as I try to not make a sound, clutching my phone, ready to call Diane at any moment. Walking from the short hallway to the kitchen, my wide eyes scan across the fridge, stove, counters, and table. My attention makes the items more like props in an art studio, than furniture in my home. I search for any anomalies. Any ghostly knocks, apparitions, or unembodied voices. Enough moments of time begin to string together with nothing but a calm, even quietness. You’re over-reacting. Stop fucking scaring yourself.
By Kendra Marya2 years ago in Horror
Backcountry skiing
I’m conscious for all of it. The initial fall, the snow heaving down in a torrent of violence - smashing my body around without a care. It isn’t pitch black as I'd always imagined it would be. My eyes adjust to see a blue tinged light, while I hear my own panting in the cochlea of my ear.
By Kendra Marya2 years ago in Fiction
Yukon Diaries
The air changed over the September long weekend. It became denser, crisper, colder. Yellow and red leaves had changed from green on the fireweed that ran along the side of the road. Its beauty calmed me like a mother shushing her newborn, one fresh enough to be dysregulated by circadian rhythms and the time mustered by the rise and fall of the sun and moon.
By Kendra Marya2 years ago in Journal
Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski
A delectable snack sandwiched between two slices of testosterone and an influx of pitted skin, Ham on Rye is the finding of one's way in the world, in the rigidity of class, American angst, anger, and ego. It succeeded in alienating women through a sweaty and obtuse first-person male gaze.
By Kendra Marya2 years ago in Critique
A Strange Mysterious Package, Indeed!
You’re a thirty-three-year-old woman named Breanne, still living in the home you grew up in. Not in a cute hallmark way. But in a way that says, ‘I went to university, and it took me six years to graduate because I couldn’t decide on a major, and now I make $50k working as a graphic designer and can’t afford to live on my own in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) or pay back my student loans.’
By Kendra Marya3 years ago in Fiction
Grandma Martha
It’s another hectic morning in the Richards household in the old farmhouse down Township Road 480 in rural Connecticut. The kids are getting ready for school, alternating sharing the bathroom between brushing teeth and peeing before the long bus ride into town. Gillian, the wife, finishes blow drying her hair and yells Goodbye! to the kids as they run out the door. She gets dressed and heads into the kitchen, throwing two multigrain slices of bread into the toaster.
By Kendra Marya3 years ago in Fiction
Baby Beluga
Shh! Adelle turns to her younger brother Benji, her eyes wide. He looks terrified and for a second she wonders if it’s worth it to continue with her plan. He tip-toes behind her, his Velcro shoes and windbreaker on, and he’s holding onto her turquoise canvas Jansport backpack as guidance in the dark. It’s 4:36 in the morning. They’ve both never been out of their beds at this time, except the one time they had to pray all day and night with only a couple of bathroom breaks and some rice crackers to eat, as Prophet Ned said would please God.
By Kendra Marya3 years ago in Fiction
