L.K. Rolan
Bio
L.K studied Literature in college. She lives with her handsome, bearded boyfriend Tom and their two cats.
They all enjoy cups of Earl Grey tea together, while working on new stories and planning adventures for the years ahead.
Stories (38)
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Dead by 10, Dinner by 6. Content Warning.
The city woke under a thin veil of fog, and love was in the air on this Valentine’s Day in 1929. Ma had been up since before dawn, humming Danny Boy and other songs from the old country. She pressed a heart-shaped cutter into the dough, twisting her wrist, lifting out perfect cookies one by one. She’d cleaned enough houses this week and could afford to bake. Iridescent sugar dusted the counter, glittering beneath the soft ray of sun streaming in from the small window. A pot of coffee hissed on the stove.
By L.K. Rolan11 months ago in History
L.K.'s Unofficial Vocal Awards
✨🖤✨🖤✨🖤✨🖤✨🖤✨🖤✨🖤 You’d think reading a story a day for a year would get repetitive. That’s what I thought when I started the 365 Days of Vocal challenge—expecting it to be a checkbox kind of task, like brushing your teeth or pretending to enjoy small talk at parties. But somewhere between Day 1 and Day 30, it stopped being a routine and became a ritual. Like flipping through records in a dusty shop, not knowing which album you’d take home.
By L.K. Rolan11 months ago in Writers
Beneath the Porch, Beyond the Veil:
In a world stitched from surreal claymation textures and shadows that stretch longer than they should, Rowan’s story unfolds—not just as a narrative, but as a feeling. It’s a tale dipped in folklore, dusted with childhood trauma, and tangled in the roots of magical forests where even the trees seem to sleep with one eye open. To capture the haunting beauty and fragile darkness of this story, I’ve curated a playlist that feels less like background noise and more like an emotional roadmap—a sonic spell woven from ethereal threads, dark folk laments, and ghostly echoes.
By L.K. Rolan11 months ago in Beat
The Claw Machine. Top Story - January 2025.
She was passed out with a little black book beside her, when little Joseph decided to run away from home that day and go to the carnival. He tugged and tugged on mom's arms but nothing would wake her. Nothing at all. Feeling the anger in him well up he stomped and growled and said mother from a low aching voice that ached within his belly. Mother had been tired for days and she promised him they would go today because it was the last day and if they didn't go today the carnival wouldn't come back for a whole nother year!
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in Horror
It's Just a Selfie. Runner-Up in Through the Lens Challenge. Content Warning.
It's just a selfie. A vein, shallow representation of myself. Me. Me. Me. I. I. I. That was the summer I left my ex-husband. The summer after I actually buckled down and lost some of the weight I’d been carrying around.
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in Photography
365 Days of Vocal. Runner-Up in New Year, New Projects Challenge.
Get ready to have your words savored. Imagine this: it's early morning, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, the warm glow of candlelight dances across the living room walls. I'm nestled in my gold corduroy couch, wrapped in a soft fleece blanket and your words are captivating my attention.
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in Motivation
The Closet. Content Warning.
“There was only one rule: don't open the door.” Mommy told me. No matter what you hear, do not open the door. But this is a hard rule to follow because he's hurting mommy and I want to help her. She doesn't know it but I'm really tough. For a moment I imagine I'm Spiderman and I lasso Harold in my web and fling him off the side of our one story house. Harold is like a balloon and I pictured him disappearing further and further into the sky until he is gone. 6 loud knocks outside, “YOU STUPID CUNT!” I pull at the bottom of my powder blue dinosaur pj's. I have a wedgie and I'm kind of thirsty. Mommy woke me up and made me get in here. I wonder how long it will be this time. I don't like being here, it smells funny in the closet. It smells like Harold’s black socks when he takes them off when he gets home. “Harold please.” I'm standing on shoes, I'm standing on one of Harold's nice shiny black shoes, the tops are kind of hard so I move my feat around till I'm standing on my mom's sneakers, they are much softer. I'm getting tired of standing and I crouch down. The coats and clothes in plastic bags are soft. I push them around so I can lean back against them, but they don't end up being a good pillow. I sigh in frustration from not being able to get comfortable. I wonder how much time has passed. My head bangs on the back of the closet…it was really loud. “What was that?” I hear a chair slide, a dull rasp as it moves against the grain of the hardwood floor in the kitchen. “What the fuck was that?” Loud thuds across the floor closer and closer to me. I feel warm pee soaking through the cotton of my pj's and run down my legs cold. “Harold no!” Mommy is screaming, I hear the clumsy steps and shuffles as mommy follows Harold to the closet. My stomach makes a gurling sound as I stare at the door knob, watching it slowly turn at first .. and then. The knob twists violently and the light shining into the closet is bright after being in the closet so long. I squint and wince in pain as Harold grabs and pinches my collar bone, my entire little shoulder fitting into the palm of his hand, his fingers dig into my flesh. He throws me a few feet across the room and it feels like lightning when my butt hits the floor, the back of my head feels cold where it cracked against the coffee table. I stare into the clouds of popcorn ceiling as the warm blood pools around my shoulders, my mother is crying and I am gone.
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in Horror
Sticky Fingers, Silent Night!. Content Warning.
“Goddammit’,” Mr. McBride growled with a frown. He brake checked the man in the silver impala who refused to slow down. He glared at the store with the ugly blue awning. A smile curled around his lips, when he thought of the corporate greed he'd be conning.
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in The Swamp
The Algorithm of Connection. Honorable Mention in Tomorrow’s Utopia Challenge. Top Story - December 2024. Content Warning.
“Good morning ! Today is December 10th, 2050. My Ultimate Life has cultivated your ultimate outfit based on both weather and your mental health needs as you navigate seasonal depression. Based on your caloric and metabolic needs of the day [pause] : it is recommended for your sedentary lifestyle that you have a low calorie, high b12, fiber rich warm soup to heat your spirit and encourage the facilitation of ideas.”
By L.K. Rolanabout a year ago in Futurism
