my books
Entanglement
novel | lgbtq | sports romance
Read the first chapter now!
Miriam Waters knows a thing or two about guilt. Finishing second year of BSc Physics, wanting to honour the memory of her late mother, Miriam joins a local synchronised skating team, Artemis. She expects hard work and bruises. She doesn't expect a local legend, retired figure skater, Jupiter DeLuc.
The Blessing Day
flash fiction | lgbtq | dystopian
Growing up in a town like this, you learn to live with the weirdest weather conditions. We’ve been through it all; heat that dried our grounds, rain that flooded our houses, snow and ice that froze our waters. However, as Pastor Rick Taylor and his dearest daughter Celia reminded during the morning blessings, the darkness will swallow our senses and shall be the sign of the Apocalypse. Apocalypse, with a capital ‘A’ was supposed to bring the peace and unity between us and the rest of this ‘God damned country’. I was never sure why this God would bless only our town, and not the rest of the nation. Pastor Rick said that God was good, God would know who’s the sinner and who deserves to enter his heavenly gates. I was sure that Pastor Rick’s God wouldn’t let me through. Because: It was raining when Celia Taylor kissed me for the first time. It was grey when Celia Taylor undid my bra and touched my bare stomach for the first time. It was pitch black when Celia Taylor gasped my name, eyes closed and squeezed fists. We could tell straight away that this was the darkness Pastor Rick mentioned every day. There was no noise, as if the darkness was a vacuum, sucking in any whisper, any sound. It was so dark, I couldn’t even see my hand, not even when I moved it right to my face. It was so dark, I couldn’t tell whether I was cold, warm, anything in between. I could only feel the flame of Celia’s body, rhythm of her heartbeat, roughness of her fingers. In the morning, when the darkness surrounded, the two of us were the only ones in town. At peace, united with this God damned country. Alone.
Love Letters
flash fiction | lgbtq | letters
Hello, I start, and scramble it down. Too cooled down. Dearest... I quickly erase. Too old. My beloved... How difficult can it be to write a simple hi? The same one that doesn’t leave my lips once I see your face in front of mine. Hi is my favourite word, actually. I hi only you. In the noon, in the morning, walking to your kitchen at night. Hi. I cross the words off the paper. How come speaking to you is so easy, yet at the paper I weigh every word? I carefully dot my i’s, carefully choose hey or hi. I could talk to you for hours, I could hold your hand in mine, not a care in the world, but once I see the blank page... I suppose that’s the price. Of loving, of poetry, of art. Surely, all the poets struggled when they poured down their whole hearts? When Sappho wrote her verse, when Shakespeare wrote his sonnets, it must’ve been a process, like the one I try to grasp. Or maybe it is you. Maybe, it’s the fact that you already hold my heart. Maybe, it’s the way you smile, your eyes shine when I whisper, when I read my words aloud. Because you are so perfect, so incredible, amazing and beautiful and gorgus- gorgegos- gorgeous! The paper is more of a scribble than a love letter, another one, by the bin full of love. But maybe, maybe that’s it- loving isn’t simple, isn’t clean. It’s a bumpy road, and we are sitting in the front seat, holding hands and.... I fold the paper, draw a heart on top – really cliché – and slip it into your bag. I watch how you find it. Unfold. Read. You smile at the letter of my love.
