mfmilligan

[mfmilligan]

An Announcement & Some Changes

Hey, everyone! I've made some changes in my writing plans and I thought I'd let you know what's up.

First of all, as of this month, I'm going to begin working on short stories I can submit to magazines! I'm in the middle of researching and brainstorming for this and while I am a bit nervous, I'm mostly excited. I have tons of ideas that I think could work for the places I'm looking at.

This leads to the subject of the In the Midst series. I'm not technically stopping it, but I'm unsure when I'll continue/finish it. Since short story work (specifically for traditional publishing) will be a higher priority, I need to dedicate more time to those ideas. And while I have a flexible daytime job and I'm capable of juggling multiple projects, I don't think In the Midst is something I could juggle easily with this. In the Midst is one of the only things I've ever written without an outline (to keep with the random atmosphere of the world within the story). It's literally one of those projects where every one or two weeks, I'd sit down and be like, "This is where we left off last...so what's next?" and just make something up on the spot. That randomness is important to the tone of a liminal story like In the Midst, and I'm concerned that I wouldn't be as good at keeping up that tone while working on more structured projects.

Like I said, this isn't to say the series is ending. If I have time here and there, I'd love to keep adding onto the nameless narrator's adventures. While I have never outlined or done much pre-writing brainstorming for this concept, there were a couple twists and turns that I did have in mind that I'd really love to work into the story. So for those who've been enjoying In the Midst, it's on pause for now but it's not gone. I'll let you know whenever a new part is coming up!

Second of all, in light of these changes, I'm going to do a better job at being more present here. Every time I come here, I find so much fun and insight from the writing community and I want to support you guys better. There are so many talented writers here of all kinds of styles/genres and you all remind me that no writer is alone.

Last point, what does all this mean for original fiction here? It's a bit trickier to answer. Obviously, there are going to be several stories that I keep for potential publication. And working on those stories will take precedence. But I would like to still share some original stories here...I think once I have a list of stories strictly for magazine submissions (and take into account the time it'll take to write & revise them), I'll have a better idea of what I could do on Tumblr. Knowing what kind of time I have and what ideas I'm okay with sharing here will be the ultimate factors. I'll certainly update you all if I'm about to post any new fiction here.

That's about all I have for this week. Like I said above, I'll be more present from here on out and even if there isn't any new fiction for a while because of these recent changes, rest assured: I'm still writing.

Happy writing, everyone!!

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #6

So this whole time I’ve been in one of the Daisy Hill houses. I’ve been in either the basement or the kitchen pantry. Thinking of the shadow people I saw, I’ve been too scared to go back out. But I’ve also worried if one of them will show up here. I mean, these are homes. And no one lives where they work. So…where else would the shadow people go?

     There’s just one problem right now. I’m starving and there’s no food in this house. It’s now 10:00 AM. I’m thinking I’ll stay here until noon, then I’ll

     I hear something in one of the other rooms. Sounds like static. Really loud static. Maybe a TV? It’s freaking me out – and what if it attracts one of them?

     I’m going to turn it off.

     Holy crap. Where do I begin?

     So I walked into the living room where the TV was. The moment I was about to shut it down, the static cut to a channel.

     For a second, I couldn’t make out anything. It was just clip after clip sped through. Then it settled on news footage. But the news anchor – I swear, if this was normal reality, I’d say I was hallucinating.

     The anchor…she was just a pair of huge lips on a body wearing a red pant suit. I was so stunned by her strangeness that I didn’t pay attention to what she was saying at first.

     “And now for an important announcement! We all know that visitors tend to come and go around here. Individual visitors usually pose no problem. However, it seems we’re experiencing a spike of them recently and too many visitors means too much trouble. So please pay attention to your screen as we display all known visitors present. If you see one in your local area, please notify the proper authorities.”

     A slideshow of faces, names, and countries began. The pictures were grainy, mostly black and white. It gave the people’s faces an uncanny appearance. They looked like photos you’d see on missing persons posters and gave you the sinking feeling that whoever you looked at might not be alive anymore. Quite a few were from the U.S, but many more came from all over the world.

     When the slideshow switched from a woman in Malaysia to a guy in South Korea, the footage froze, turned to static, then became blank.

     A second later, I heard the familiar dots and dashes. Morse code. They appeared on the screen.

     . . . .

     .

     . - . .

     . - . .

     - - -

     . . - - . .

    I copied them down before they disappeared. The TV cut back to the big-lipped anchor.

     “Apologies, viewers,” she said. “It seems we’re experiencing some technical difficulties.” Her reedy fingers with glittering nails clutched her papers tighter. “Please watch the rest of the –”

     The slideshow cut her off. Only a handful more showed up. When it showed the final “visitor”, my blood ran cold.

     It was my face. My name. My home country.

     And now anyone and anything that lives here sees me as a threat.

     I didn’t pay attention to the anchor’s closing statements. As soon as the TV cut back to static, I turned it off.

     Looking at the code, I recognize the O near the end. Seeing the double letter before it leads me to believe that the word is probably HELLO. Maybe that last symbol is a question mark.

     Someone really is trying to reach out.

     It’s noon. I haven’t seen anyone or anything moving beyond the windows. I’m going back to the Sweet Tomato for food, but…I’m at a crossroads.

     Whoever is out there, I should respond to them. It’s obviously not safe for anyone to be alone here. And having an extra set of eyes would be helpful in finding an escape (if there is one).

     The trouble is this brings me back to my original mission…the one that resulted in me hiding out in Daisy Hill.

     It was bad enough when the eye-shadow-thing scared me. Knowing there’s an actual formidable threat out there changes everything. There’s only one of me. There were at least 50 on that one floor. Who knows how many more were in that building? Or any of the other buildings I haven’t explored?

     Also – and I’ve been in denial about this the last several hours – I think something’s wrong with me. Remember how one of those shadow people touched my face in the elevator? I didn’t notice any differences immediately, because, well, I was escaping, then sheltering from a tornado, and above all else, stressed. But now the part of my face he touched is cold. Really cold. Tingling a bit, too, almost like dental anesthetics.

     I really don’t want to entertain the thought that this could be anything serious.

     Made it to the Sweet Tomato. I’ve eaten and now I need to formulate some kind of plan.

     My thoughts so far:

I need to see which building(s) could be a radio/TV station based on outer appearances (to avoid wasting time exploring inside)

I need to figure out the shadow people’s daily routine so I know when’s the best time to sneak around

I need to sneak around without being seen

     This last point will be tricky. Since I’ve been announced as an intruder of sorts, I can’t simply wander around in the open like I used to. I think the first best step would be monitoring the shadow people. The Pink Mall is just outside White Collar Avenue. If I hid out on the roof, I’d have the perfect birds-eye view. Hopefully I can access the roof from the outside, because if the mall is still flooded – well, I don’t want to have to go up through the inside. After all that, I can worry about sneaking around.

     I’ll start this whole operation early tomorrow. That way I know the complete day in the life of the shadow people.

     Slept a couple hours, but my dream woke me up. I know it’s just a dream, but…

     I was wandering around in this world in a field between two cities. It was a sunny day but it didn’t feel cheery. Every step I took felt final, as if I was in a scene just before the end credits of a movie rolled.

     I came across a large open well. I didn’t want to fall in, but a mysterious force pushed me. Down, down, down into darkness. The air grew colder the further I fell.

     Suddenly all was bright and I was falling towards the sky – until I wasn’t. My back collided with the ground, leaving me too stunned to breathe. When I sat up and looked around. I was in the park I always went to as a kid. People were everywhere. Even my mother and siblings were there. I ran up to them and I started telling them what I’d been through. But…they didn’t hear me. They didn’t even see me. No one at the park could, no matter what I did. The sun dipped down and everyone left. When I woke up, I was crying just as I was at the end of the dream.

     It’s been a few more hours and I’ve almost given up on sleep. I've been read through this journal I’ve been keeping…I have a lot of thoughts, but I’m not sure how to articulate them. I only know a few things.

     I should leave this town. There's no reason why I should stay here, especially with all the dangerous stuff that's happened. And with no escape that I can see around, that's even more reason to move on.

     I should forget the plan I made. Maybe the Morse messenger and I will cross paths one of these days. I hope we do. But I need to find a way out of here more than anything. My sanity won't last long in this place.

     And…well, I don’t know if this last thing is a good or bad thing. After exploring the Familiar Schools, I said I should stop acknowledging anything familiar or remembering my life before. That because none of it mattered here and it only brought me down, there was no reason to keep bringing it up. But I don’t know. Remembering real-life stuff did bring me down…but at the same time, it was an anchor of sorts. Something that reminded me that there was a different reality, that I didn’t have to belong to this nonsensical nightmare I’m trapped in. And the more I’ve accepted my fate, the worse things have gotten.

     I’ll try to get at least a couple or more hours of sleep. Once I’ve officially woken up, I’m packing plenty of food and batteries and getting back on the road. Maybe I can’t escape this world just yet. But I can escape this town. Tonight is the last they’ll hear of me and my stupid Weather Channel music.

     This is the right call to make. I know it is. And yet I can’t help but feel like this is the most cowardly move I could make.

     Coward.

     Not for nothing, though. If anyone else walked into this world and saw all the shit I’ve seen, they’d understand. Hell, most would probably wonder why I haven’t just been hiding in some building all this time. I don’t even understand why I haven’t just been hiding this whole time.

     I guess it’s just…this whole time I was exploring, I haven’t just been looking for my way home. I've been trying to understand this world. What it is, how it works, its past (if it has any), anything about it that makes any lick of sense. And failing to understand even this town feels like I’m failing myself. Failing my survival, failing my sanity – just failing everything.

     Whatever. I’ve made my choice. I’d rather be on the move than wondering when the shadow people will find me. I’m getting out of here no matter what.

[mfmilligan]

🎉 Write characters that you find interesting and compelling.

🎉 Don't worry about making characters too over the top, or 'too much'.

🎉 Write characters who want big things.

🎉 Write characters with conflict between what they want and what they need.

🎉 Write characters who don't realize they are doing harm.

🎉 Write characters who don't know how to communicate well.

🎉 Write characters with people they love in the way of what they want.

🎉 Write characters with amazing abilities who use them in ways that unintentionally fuck them over.

🎉 Write messy characters!

[mfmilligan]

Update: I'm Still Here

Hey, guys! I should have said something about this sooner, but there won't be any In the Midst this week. It seems June's problems are still affecting me early on in July. But I thought I'd take this opportunity to talk about it.

There's been a couple things bringing me down. One of them is the wave of book bans/censorship that's been spreading the last 3 years. Thankfully, I don't live in Texas, Missouri, or Florida (or any of the states that are passing heavy legislation restricting books and potentially criminalizing librarians/library staff). But that doesn't mean that everything's 100% fine where I am. Both as a library worker and as a writer, freedom of expression and freedom of access to information are important to me. And while my time as a library worker began with the start of the new wave of censorship, this year of all years has really worn me down. Maybe because I'm too hypervigilant with censorship news. Maybe because I worry that the Fahrenheit 451 reality of Florida could be nationwide one day. And maybe I shouldn't worry so much - after all, there are individuals and organizations out there fighting against all this (and the majority of the U.S. doesn't support book bans). But that leads into my next problem.

I'm coming to realize that I'm holding onto far too much anxiety. And a lot of that anxiety has deep roots in my past. I'm conflict-averse for a reason and while I won't go in-depth as to why, I will say that much of how I worry/why I worry stems a lot from certain experiences/individuals that negatively impacted my life. Worrying so much may have protected me and helped me protect others in the past, but it's ruining me now. Thankfully, I will be working through this with my therapist. However, the past couple weeks (to say nothing of the whole month of June) haven't been easy. Many days, I have to dig deep in myself to write. Sometimes getting out of bed is a huge task by itself. And this hasn't just been impacting my writing. It's impacted my reading, my Korean studies, reaching out to friends/family, anything and everything that would make me feel better about life. I have a stack of books that I've kept by me for the past 5 days and I've wanted so badly to read them! But if any of you know the overwhelming numbness & hopelessness that can come with depressive states, you know how hard it can be to do even the simplest things (even if you know they'd help you or bring you joy).

I'm doing what I can, though, to keep doing a little bit every day. Telling stories matters so much to me. Even when I'm not physically writing, my brain is almost always turning over the next story idea or developing an older one. Stories are in my blood and I keep coming back to them, no matter how much life sucks or how much I hurt. And sharing some of what I do on Tumblr and connecting with you all has been one of the best things that has happened this year.

All this to say that, even though I have no In the Midst and no other stories to share on Tumblr this week, I'm still here. Even though life is really hard for me right now, I'm still writing.

And if anyone else has been struggling lately, just know you're not alone. It's difficult enough to deal with hard things as a human being - it can feel doubly hard when you're a writer/creative and those hard things get in the way of creating, the very act that speaks to your soul. I'm rooting for you, and I believe who you are and what you create makes the world a much more interesting place.

There will be new In the Midst next week - I know I left things on a bit of a cliffhanger last time, and I wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting too long to know what happens next! And over the rest of the summer, I will be looking at sharing other short stories here.

Happy writing, everyone - remember to take care of yourselves.

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #5

     I don’t know how I fell asleep when everything’s a complete nightmare, but I did, and I wish I hadn’t.

     I dreamed I’d gone back to the Pink Mall. It was still flooded, though not as dangerously high. The only sound was the light ripple of water echoing through the emptiness. Inside was different, too. The store signs were stripped away and there was no merchandise anywhere. The whole place had a greenish glow to it. Every corner was dark with shadows. I wandered until I came to the store with the crack in its wall. It was no longer a store – it was a pool. A pool so deep you couldn’t see its end, so deep the light couldn’t follow it all the way down. And the longer I looked into it, the more I felt my body being slowly pulled in.

     Now I’m sitting here in a cold sweat. It’s still dark outside, even though it’s almost noon. And no thanks to that stupid dream, I feel even more hesitant to go out. But it really sucks staying here.

     I keep checking the other station to see if the Morse code comes back. Nothing so far. I’m beginning to wonder if I just imagined it. It would make sense, I suppose. Isolated in a nonsense world – I think anyone would begin to see or hear things that weren’t there. Honestly, it’s surprising that after almost three months of living here I’m only now beginning to hallucinate. What does that say about me in this impossible situation?

     Hallucination or not, I am trying to remember how Morse code works. I remember S and O, at least, so if someone’s calling for help, I’ll know. Don’t know what I could do to help, though. If there’s no way out, what can anyone do here?

     However, this whole thing brings up a good question that I should have thought of sooner. Where is the signal coming from? I’m not the most tech-savvy person in the world, but I know radio signals aren’t magic. You need lines and towers and other stuff for it all to work. I’m trying to think…maybe there’s a building on White Collar Avenue that’s in charge of broadcasting and similar things. That’s the only part of this town that looks like it’d have anything like that.

     The shadow full of eyes in that one building, though…I know it’s probably not real, but even so…

     I really don’t want to go back there.

     But if there’s anything logical to be found in this world, if there is someone reaching out, and if there’s any chance of responding…

     Dammit. I’m going out.

     I’m in Daisy Hill – the last place I want to be right now. I’m scared shitless and I’m not going back outside until the sun is high in the sky.

     After the last time I wrote, I left the Sweet Tomato and searched the nearby boutiques for anything useful (found a flashlight and a ton of batteries). Once ready, I cranked up the volume on my music and headed downtown.

     Walking down White Collar Avenue, I had no idea which building would be in charge of TV and radio. I’d never really noticed what such buildings back in the real world looked like (kicking myself for that now). But I thought I’d at least start with the tallest building and then work my way around. It was the most logical plan I could come up with at the time.

     Everywhere in the lobby was cold steel and sickly green marble. The fluorescent lighting didn’t make it any more cheerful either. Not happy to be there, I pushed the button for the elevator and stepped inside as quickly as possible.

     The first three floors were just empty office spaces. On the fourth floor things were different. Papers were everywhere. Old rotary phones dangled, their cords yanked over cubicle walls and desks. As if they’d been thrown aside in a mass evacuation. A light flickered in the left corner.

     Similar scenes of disarray played out on floors 5-9. All concerning, of course. But as long as no one and nothing else was around, I wasn’t about to leave yet. In fact, the haunting imagery was beginning to annoy me.

     Are you trying to scare me, world? I thought. You’ll have to do better than this.

     At the tenth floor, the elevator stopped but the door wouldn’t open. I gave it about half a minute before I pressed the Open button.

     The tenth floor was total darkness.

     I selected the next floor, only breathing when the door slid back into place. My heart was racing – even as I write now, it’s racing again (knowing what’s to come) – but I didn’t want to give up over one dark floor. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I muttered.

     Floors 11 and 12 were normal. For a moment, I thought everything would be fine. Floor 13.

     And then Floor 14.

     I still don’t want to declare that the eye-shadow-thing is real. But this – what I saw on Floor 14 – could not have been a hallucination.

     There were…not people. At least, not like any people I’ve seen before. They were humanoid shadows – all sitting at their desks typing away at their computers. It was like looking at a photograph where someone had taken a permanent marker to perfectly black out every person in the room. And they were minding their own business until the elevator door opened.

     They all looked up. I froze.

     One of them in the back pointed at me. If he said anything, I couldn’t hear him over my music, but the message was clear.

     They all rushed to the elevator.

     I punched the first floor button repeatedly. The door moved, but the shadow people were fast. One reached inside, his velvet and static hand grasping for my face. Screaming, I forced the hand away and the door closed.

     Down, down, down.

     I ran out of the lobby thinking I was in the clear. And for a moment, I was relieved because it was no longer nighttime outside. When I looked at the sky, however, my heart dropped.

     It was darkened by storm clouds. The wind came in strong gusts and lightning flashed everywhere. On the horizon, I could see a tornado beginning to form.

     There was only one place to go. So I ran into the nearest house in Daisy Hill and holed up in the basement until the windows stopped rattling. I’m still in here.

     This empty house creeps the hell out of me, but I can’t even think of leaving without dying of panic.

     Who or what were those beings in that building? Have they been living here this whole time? Why haven’t I seen them before? Are they searching for me at this very moment? Perhaps if I’d just tried talking to them – but they saw me as an intruder. Would they have even listened if I explained myself? What would they have done if they caught me?

     I’m just listening to the static station now. Nothing so far, but it’s almost 3 AM – around the time when I last heard the code. I hope I wasn’t hallucinating that…I really hope someone else is out there. I really hope they can find me. Or that I can find them.

     Because if it wasn’t clear before, now I know this world is out to get me.

[mfmilligan]

I swear one of these days, I'll check Tumblr more often than once a week. Work has just been crazy since Summer Reading began (I'm a library aide) and balancing writing and work all at once on top of having a personal crisis this month has been more than enough. But hey! I have another installation of In the Midst coming for you this morning!

[mfmilligan]

Angel's Treasures 🦢🕯️

[mfmilligan]

Chasing Winter

[mfmilligan]

Update

Hey, everyone! There won't be any In the Midst this week. The past weekend was really rough for me mentally/emotionally, and I decided it was best to use this week to recover. I do plan on writing a new part for it next week, though, so keep your eyes open for more in the future!

In other news, guess who's under attack by bright shiny story ideas? I'm just glad I'm more disciplined than I was years ago. It's a little easier now for me to entertain ideas - even plan them out a little - while also sticking to my other projects. Although this one idea in particular might become a dark horse project...it hits on the topic of dreams (which fascinates me to no end) and it has a bit of a dystopian flavor to it (even more enticing). So who knows? Maybe by the end of the year, I might be talking about it a little more.

I've got some stuff to work on over the summer. A one-act play I wrote for college will be reworked into a short story, a story I was going to turn into a podcast drama will be reworked into a book, and my Grim Reaper novel that I almost gave up for lost has a new outline and a bright future ahead of it! I don't know when exactly I'll begin drafting the Grim Reaper novel, but it's at least a relief to know that I know this time around what the story wants to be.

On top of that, I'll be cranking out short stories left and right AND I plan on submitting some of them to magazines/journals. Going to have to do some research on who/where to send them because so many of my stories are just...weird. Weird as in they tend to fall anywhere under the speculative fiction umbrella. I'm perfectly capable of writing more realistic stories that could fall into the literary genre. But I've long since accepted that my love of fantasy, horror, supernatural, sci-fi, and anything in between is inevitably too strong to resist.

Also...don't know when I'll get around to this, but I'm thinking of writing a craft talk post sharing what I learned from writing the first draft of my Grim Reaper story.

What have you all been working on? :) I hope everyone else has been doing well and that whether you're inspired or you're stuck, you still keep believing in your storytelling abilities.

[mfmilligan]

Fantastic art from the most begrudging Stay in the world - awesome work, sis! XD

5 Star Chan, Moving On...

Yup, I like Stray Kids. Yup, I drew Chan when the 5 Star teaser came out. No, we're not gonna talk about it.

[mfmilligan]

Welcome to Tumblr, sis!! ^_^

Hello, Tumblr Folks!

Hey there! It's ArtzDeeva and...I'm finally on Tumblr, yay! :D

For those who don't know me, I'm Megan, an artist/animator/storyboarder, and I love making art, creating stories, and singing every once in a while. I have a YouTube channel (ArtzDeeva there too), & I'm probably best known for making Left 4 Dead - The Return, a fan art storyboard project I made in a year and three months.

I need a place to cut loose and have a bit of fun, so that's why I'm here now. I don't have a set schedule yet or anything, but I will try to post as regularly as possible. This will also be a place for looser sketches and WIP works too.

I'm excited to be here, so let's have some fun! ArtzDeeva over and out!

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #4

     I decided to explore the Familiar Schools today. School #1 was the only one I’d had prior experience with, since it was one of the first places I partially searched when I arrived. I’d been running myself ragged calling out for anyone and banging on doors. It was when I stepped into the hall lined with empty, pastel orange lockers that I realized this world was truly abandoned. Perhaps that’s why my heart beat a little faster going in there. For the hundredth time, I’m glad I have music to make this all easier.

     I didn’t find anything useful in that space. There weren’t any textbooks or supplementary materials. Just chalk and chalkboards. I contemplated leaving a message, but…who is here to read it? So I just drew a smiley face and a frowney face and moved on.

     School #1 must have been a high school because School #2 was a little smaller and more colorful. Although the colors were weird there. The walls were painted yellow, pink, lime green, and purple at alternating points. Squares of all different colors were painted haphazardly on the floors. And instead of the walls running straight up and down, they curved. I don’t know whether the curves made corners more or less creepy. Regardless, the whole place looked and felt off in a forced-cheery way. Did middle schoolers enjoy coming here? I wondered. Were they creeped out by this place? Or have I just become so afraid of empty spaces that this school is creepy to me? Maybe I’ve gotten old enough that color and whimsy have lost their charm. Not that I’m that old, but…

     Finding nothing useful, I left another doodle on the chalkboards before moving on to the third and final school. This last one was definitely a preschool. And what makes it weird is it looks almost exactly like where I went to kindergarten in the late 90s. The white and sickly green floors, the long hallways, the classrooms full of finger paints, crafts, toys, and other stuff. Even the tank in the corner where my school kept a turtle (although there’s nothing in this one).

     It’s so alike that it scares me.

     In that place, I could clearly remember what memories I made at that time. I was in for only two days, but it felt more like two weeks. Probably because I didn’t like it. Why would I? I was alone, I didn’t know anyone, and unlike at the playground everything was controlled. I wanted to make friends, but the need to obey the teacher got in the way of that. Or maybe I just let it get in the way. At recess, I’d grow shy and just read books in the classroom. Worst of all was when I had to find the restrooms. The halls were big and every room around me looked alike. I must have gone in a circle three times before some bewildered teacher found me on the brink of tears and pointed me in the right direction.

     Interestingly, this preschool is the only place in this world so far that has books. Kneeling down at the cubby where picture books were kept, I hoped I’d find anything legible to read. But no…when I opened one of them up, the words were blurred, as if someone had cried too much on the pages. And they were far too jumbled to understand. Though it wasn’t just the words that were strange. The illustrations were plain weird. Eyes, toadstool mushrooms, rainbows, and sparkles were everywhere. People had TVs and teapots (among other things) for heads. It wasn’t just one book either. I flipped through everything there was and they were all like that.

     What kind of world is this where you can’t read anything and people don’t look like people?

     Although…god, I didn’t want to talk about this, because again I have no idea if what I saw was real or not. But seeing all the eyes in the illustrations made me think of the shadow that grew in White Collar Avenue.

     It, too, was full of eyes.

     Seeing similar things in a kid’s book isn’t proof of anything. At least, I won’t see it as proof until I witness something in a more conscious, trustworthy state.

     Anyway – I should get food and find somewhere to sleep. Maybe tomorrow…I definitely won’t go inside. But it might be good to check up on the Pink Mall. See if the flooding got worse or eventually stopped.

     Decided to make things easy for myself tonight and stay at the Sweet Tomato. It might not be cozy, but it’s the only place I kinda trust.

     Also feeling a bit melancholy. As strange as this world is, there’s too much that’s familiar in all the wrong ways. Wrong because everything familiar is like times, places, people, or things that I’ve left behind. Or things that have left me behind or changed beyond recognition (in the real world, I mean). Things I was mourning before I came here.

     Perhaps it’s best to stop remembering. I mean, it’s bad enough that this world has me scared and unsure. Why give it more power by letting these things get to me?

     I’ll hang onto the music because I need it to stay sane. But anything else that reminds of the past, I won’t think about it. I won’t write about it. From now on, I treat everything like it’s new. No sentimentality, no nostalgia, no memories, nothing.

     This is the present, not the past.

     This is the present, not the past.

     This is the present, not the past.

     I don’t know what to do.

     A few minutes ago, I woke up because instead of music, there was static playing through the Walkman’s earphone – probably because I knocked it over in my sleep. I was about to switch stations when I heard something in the static.

     Clicks. Short ones and long ones. Morse code.

     I can’t believe I’m saying this – but there must be someone else in this world. If every form of communication here is muddled beyond recognition, why would there be Morse code? Why would something dare to make sense now?

     There are just two problems. I don’t remember Morse code. The last time I knew it well was when I was eleven. And around 3:30 AM, the clicking stopped, so even if I could decode anything, I can’t access the message. I’m going to keep tuning in just in case it comes back.

     There’s also one other major problem. It’s almost 9 AM…and the sun hasn’t come up. Yeah – I can’t explain it, I can’t do anything about it, and I don’t like it one bit.

     Should I stay put? Go outside and keep exploring? I don’t have a flashlight, but the streetlamps are on. So are all the lights in the stores. I mean, as long as I don’t go toward Daisy Hill or out where the Gas Station is, I should be fine, right?

     All I can think about right now is the eye-filled shadow on White Collar Avenue. Every time I look out into the expansive darkness, I keep wondering if those eyes are out there, searching for me. I keep hoping what I saw wasn’t real.

     I need to explore…but I promised myself I wouldn’t make anymore dumb decisions. Think I’ll just stick it out here until the sun comes up. Or until I’m too sick of wondering what could be happening outside. If anything’s happening outside.

[mfmilligan]

This deeply satisfies the part of me that never left the desert 18 years ago. Beautiful work!

The Painted Sky

Rain drums against the windowpanes and a stream of water courses alongside the road. The lights above hum and there isn't a car in sight. Yellow shrubland and bare-rock canyons spread out into a sun-bleached land. Miles of orange rocks formed by a toddler’s lopsided taste, lumpy and misshapen.

None of my new coworkers have asked me where I live in all this nothing, but I don’t ask them either. This Shop-N-Go is located at a fork in the road, one path leading deep into the desert and the other to some star-distant city.

It’s the same store you see on every corner of nowhere. Rows of name brand snacks. Walls of sodas and weak beer. A kiosk of forgettables—headphones, chargers, sunscreen, novelty t-shirts that you say, “I Believe”. An umbrella. You don’t usually need an umbrella though.

Middle of the day and I’m mopping the floors, the wood smooth in my hands and linoleum murky. My eyes itch. This manager hates having store music play if she can help it. The silence is murky too, the tense reverence of a graveyard.

Lightning crackles in the distance. My eyes drag up, ears ringing and back stiff. There’s a water stain on the ceiling—in the corner, above the sodas. A small dank sun growing inch by inch. I snap my eyes away. The stain has been there since I started, I think.

The manager on duty with me, Carol, is staring outside. Rain beats harder against the roof of the Shop-N-Go, mixing with the deafening shushing sound of the AC. Storm clouds rumble across the land like a hungry stampeded. I move the sudsy water around in circles, eyes down.

Carol grunts. She’s known to keep her thoughts to herself, which I appreciate. A stout solid woman with the presence of a bowling ball and one long dull white hair braid down her back. She’s missing an arm and knots all of her left sleeves in a way that reminds me of pirates or cowboys. I hope she hadn’t noticed I’d started wearing my hair in one long braid down my back.

I glance at Carol and then away again. I remind myself that she would say if we were gonna close early.

Cold creeps down my arm. Carol grunts again, sharp eyes darting toward me and window, frowning. She isn’t the one that hired me, though not many places would hire a 16-year-old washed up out of nowhere.

“Midge.” I blink several times and there’s a flash of Carol’s teeth. “Do you hear that?”

The rain drums on. I clamp the mop tighter between my fists and swallow. “Bad storm,” I try to mimic her bare tones, minimalist in nature.

Carol glances up. I know where she’s looking. “Tend the counter.”

“Customers?”

Carol doesn’t answer. I shove the mop against the nearest wall and bustle to the cash register. Thunder cracks through the sky and I jump, jamming my hip against the counter and probably leaving a baseball-sized bruised.

I wince, round the corner and face the door all the same, trying to be good. Carol gestures and I could barely make out her words, “back up.”

The cold spreads to the back of my neck. I don’t need to be told twice. I back up toward the magazines. Carol narrows her eyes, rain drenches the land and makes wavy lines across the windows like ocean surf.

I look too far up. My vision catches on it like a thorn, and I inhale. The water stain has grown. The edge is bright yellow, a growing bruise, and the center is a indigo with a twinge of red. I swallow and hope Carol doesn’t notice.

“Ma’am?” I speak up, forcing my voice to stay even and failing.

“Duck down now, there’s a good girl.”

I shake, a numbness in my fingertips. The rain batters the earth, drowning out the AC, and water beads at the center of the ceiling stain. Carol takes a step forward and lightning cracks the sky in half. My eyes go wide. I don’t duck down.

The ceiling drips. A drop the color of fire falls. I rock forward, suppressing a whine. Water isn’t normally an angry red. Through the window, the orange rock and distant desert are blurring into one, smears of color seen through a kaleidoscope. My mouth goes dry, and I crane my neck, tilting over the counter.

“Don’t.”

“I’ve never seen those colors before.” I hold my breath, still staring. “Have you?”

“Midge,” she says in warning and something balloons in my chest in the same moment. It’s nice to be worried over.

“Yes?” I glance around, lowering my voice and matching her frown. “Do you know where we are?” My nonsense-question is swallowed by the sound of rain against earth. Earth disappearing into water. I can’t see the road anymore and it’s nothing but shapes outside. I blink and rub my eyes, the water has a purple quality. A pink one. A greenish hue. Like rainbows across oil spills.

I can’t make out the rock formations anymore. I come out from behind the counter in a lurch. The water stain is dripping freely, yellow brackish water and then orange and purple. I follow a stray drip with my eyes. One leaves a track down the wall that seems to peel the wallpaper away, leaving wood behind.

The words don’t make out of my mouth. Poison? Toxic waste? Cursed sludge?

The rainbow of color licks the wall clean, and I stumble in place. “Get down,” Carol says through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed. “Storms almost over.”

I can’t tear my eyes away. Carol’s good hand is on the handle of the door, holding it in place I realize. I edge toward the corner, thoughts reeling, unreality clogging in my lungs. A part of me simply wanted a better look, the other part was lifting my hand up to touch it.

The world outside is a river of color, leaking into our tiny Shop-N-Go and erasing.

“I said duck down.” A hand grips my shoulder, I jump, swaying in place. Carol turns me around in one fluid motion and I let out a yelp. Her arm is bright, a vivid purple color, indigo, red, blue, shapeless and wavering. I scream. She speaks in low tones, “It won’t hurt you.”

The lightning cracks through the melting world. Carol’s arm is there and not-there. The thunder follows, booming and scrambling my thoughts. An ocean seems to crash against the window, watercolors of blue and purple and pink. Shapes swim in the distance, clouds over the sun. Or whales, sharks, fish flittering through the storm like something beyond knowing.

"It’s just memory," Carol mumbles and I am still screaming. She shakes me gently with her not-there arm. I clutch at her and if I was a different teen with a different story, we’d call it a hug. She hisses in my ear, "Just memory, Midge."

Eventually I stop, though I couldn’t tell you when. And the world eases into a dusty barren place again, one meant for sunlight. Carol asks if I need a place to stay that night and I just nod. She says I can keep staying and I don't know what to say to that either.

During that storm I learn about the type of places that hire 16-year-olds without question and all the different colors the sky can bleed.

------

Hoped you enjoyed the story! Check out my new book coming out now.

[mfmilligan]

This...this is too painfully accurate.

When your family ask you how your writing is going and you're just like

[mfmilligan]

The lesson I'm constantly forgetting and constantly having to relearn

BREAKING NEWS: Writer discovers for the millionth time that they can write whatever they want. Join us now to see if the lesson will stick.

[mfmilligan]

[mfmilligan]

Do things with fear. And make that phone call. Make that video call. Reach out to that person you have been meaning to. Go inside that store that intimidates you for some reason. Put your hand up and give your opinion if you have something to say. Literally, do it even with the fear, otherwise you never will. I'm holding your hand and rooting for you. GO GO GO.