Lilly Wages
Bio
University of Montana undergrad striving to write something worthwhile.
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars” -Wilde
Achievements (1)
Stories (13)
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Planētaimpinge
I read the word absentmindedly, in the way a person typically does when glancing down at a notification just before ordering the day’s first cup of coffee. Seeing my eyebags reflected off the pastry display I drop an extra fifty cents for another shot and stand over by the window, silently willing Physics 2 not start for another five minutes, for the rain to let up, for time to stop and let me breathe—another notification pops up. Several in fact, the phone almost vibrates in time with my pulse but other people’s ringers are on and suddenly a strange symphony erupts, buzzes and beeps and Peter Griffin's laugh echoing off the Starbucks walls. Finally I read that first notification, what I assumed to be some miscellaneous post from a nerdy, physicist Reddit thread and everything. Stops.
By Lilly Wages2 years ago in Fiction
Rattle in the Dark
The drone's whirring wasn't what woke me. I'd grown accustomed to an ever present buzzing that descended upon the city every dawn, replacing cries of Red-winged Blackbirds and Chickadees, rooster calls of a modern age. I learned to drown them out until I truly believed air was born with the movement and sound of tiny propeller blades in flight. But blades hadn't woken me nor the groaning wind clamoring through the drain pipes engulfing my house in an eerie hollow moan. It was the rattling, chss-chss-chss chss-chss-chss, waking me to a hovering drone clasping a black box in alien claws. Scanning my side-door’s code and automatically signing for me, the busy winged-whippet scampered off leaving an ominous shoebox shadow neath the glass and turn-handle door. Still rattling. Swishing back and forth melodic in a metronom like way, lying motionless but shaking, chss-chss-chss. Maybe the drone had pulled a Jim Carry and punted the box robo-style down the streets, a sick parody of Pet Detective. Doubtful. In the twenty-eight years I’d gotten mail via flying messenger never once had I received a damaged or broken product. Not once.
By Lilly Wages3 years ago in Fiction
The Cat and the Crab
‘Twas the night before Christmas and as guests gathered round the dining table I’d gone to grab the crab. Only the crab was not alone, far from it in fact as I gazed upon Selvestee paw deep in our Christmas feast. Shouting his name briefly brought his face out of the dish, tiny chunks of crab flecking all white whiskers. Dinner was ruined, four hundred dollars worth of Snow crab flushed down the litter box and fourteen house guests waiting patiently, now only to be served sides. Everything should have been perfect for a seafood Christmas extravaganza yet here I stood in a gunslinger standoff with a punk ass cat Mac-daddying the main dish. Grabbing Selvestee and throwing him out onto the yard I survey the damage. Pulling all the meat out of the legs had been a mistake. Some pieces had hairs on them, others small nibble and teeth marks, but for the most part the cab was intact. So I had a choice; throw away a rents worth of meat and disappoint my guest or pick off the cat eaten pieces.
By Lilly Wages3 years ago in Confessions
Lionfish
I’d come to finally get the papers signed. We’d chosen the Georgia Aquarium, being a half hour ride from both our apartments and exceedingly public, not that he cared. Sitting in the obscure, darkened circular alcove’s viewing window I made brief eye contact with a lionfish cruising by. Scientific name Pterois though nothing appeared scientific about the striped ghoulish creature. Bugged-out eyes and botox lips skirted in rivulet-like fins, elaborate intimidating fans showing how you didn’t need to be eccentric in this world, only had to look eccentric. An obnoxious weed amongst stunning and rare coral life. I’d chopped up so many of the invasive beasts. Still did, having them sent in from Florida and the Bahamas for only the cost of shipping since the bastards were destroying marine ecosystems. Eating and multiplying, a diver could look down and see a sandy floor composed of spiked spines swaying in the currents. Seaweed beds of venom.
By Lilly Wages3 years ago in Fiction
