Lauren Everdell
Bio
Writer. Chronic sickie. Part-time gorgon. Probably thinking about cyborgs right now.
Website: https://ubiquitousbooks.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scrawlauren/
bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/scrawlauren.bsky.social
Stories (35)
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The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
The raw power of longing sweeps you into this story. A cursed love triangle, and a dauntless heroine keep you there. It's a gorgeous take on the old caution to be careful what you wish for, as rich as Addie’s favourite black coffee. An enchanted midnight whisper of a novel.
By Lauren Everdell2 years ago in Critique
Red Silk Ribbon
The morning the girl became invisible, her mother tied a red silk ribbon to her wrist. The girl said she was only invisible, not lighter than air like a balloon, she wouldn’t drift away. Her mother tied the other end to her own wrist, saying she wasn’t so sure.
By Lauren Everdell2 years ago in Poets
Red. Third Place in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Fantasy Fiction. Top Story - January 2023.
Fur on the inch of old, cold coffee is grey. The day breaking in at Bly’s window is grey, and a sleepless night hangs grey from her eyes. Do something. Her thoughts are grey. Clean. Start with the vacuum, but the bag is full. So empty it. Bins are full. Empty them. Can’t think where the fresh liners are. Shower. Water runs cold, only a glassy shave of soap left. Scum in the dish is grey. Tiles are grey, cold and grey.
By Lauren Everdell3 years ago in Fiction
Dear Heart
I’m planting tulips when I hear them. Voices, drifting smoke-like through the trees. Standing, I listen, staring at the bare earth. Thinking of the tulips that, come spring, will press through the dirt to spread white petals for the sun. They’re Swan Wings. Agatha’s favourite.
By Lauren Everdell3 years ago in Horror
Timberline. Top Story - September 2022.
The silence is absolute, as if time never began here and never will. How can I describe it? As if a wall of glass has been placed by the great hand of a God in the midst of the forest, and no living thing may pass. The trees crowd against their limit, aching to reach into the barren land, and their longing embitters them. They grow twisted, their bark black and limbs contorted.
By Lauren Everdell3 years ago in Horror
Clever Little Farm Girl
Thyme winged her oars through the air, guiding her boat toward the empty suspirating pen. She stowed the oars and tied off, standing with practiced balance. Studying the blue field of sky, she tried to shake off her unease, to focus on the dawn-stained clouds.
By Lauren Everdell3 years ago in Fiction
Carnaval Des Perdus
You are signified by The Fool. Innocent, and young. Change lies at your feet. Years pile into decades and fact becomes history, becomes rumour, becomes story, becomes history again. People wonder, how can the cabin be so desolate. The land around is vivid. Apples like rubies in its orchards, wildflowers in its grass. Animals drowse and graze in its meadow sunlight.
By Lauren Everdell4 years ago in Fiction
