Ridge Jolliff
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Stories (2)
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Eighty-Six Cheerleaders
You had an uncanny ability to evaluate a person’s character instantly upon meeting them, and I think you would have liked this guy. He looks like he’s at least ten years older than me, but I see that as a non-issue; Mom and Dad were almost exactly the same age, and we both know how they panned out. There is no algorithm for determining success with a romantic prospect—all we can do is find someone who seems nice, stuff our baggage into our bras, and hope that neither of us gets spooked when the time inevitably comes for us to take off our shirts.
By Ridge Jolliff5 years ago in Families
The Room with the Green Door
Mr. Winthrop had a quite serpent-like appearance. He had an impossibly pointed chin which, in conjunction with his broad forehead and exceedingly thinning hair, rather gave his head the aesthetic of an upside-down cone. His nose was miniscule and flat, and at its point curved upward; it was so indiscernible from the rest of him that it presented itself as two thin, black ovals in the middle of his face. His left hand had been cut off at the wrist, and the wound had not properly healed, so the residual limb was misshapen and black from infection. His skin was yellowish and freckled, which as a little girl I found to be strange, but I now recognize as typical, after learning of the sun and its pigmentation of the skin. It was our complexion—pale to the point of near transparency, with a sort of pinkish tint and thin blue lines running throughout—which was the oddity. We usually saw Mr. Winthrop exclusively in passing; only on every ninetieth day, when the time came for us to be weighed and measured, would he spend longer than a minute or two in our wing of the Quarters.
By Ridge Jolliff5 years ago in Horror
