Slush Pile

Submitted anonymously online.

Cursed Archivist

“Their work was of the utmost importance. They were the lifeblood of all knowledge on earth. It was their responsibility, their calling, and their divine duty to collect, record, archive, and sometimes even disseminate any and all noteworthy written texts.”

“He had told no one of the true destination of his secret journey, instead taking advantage of the implicit sense of trust he inspired in others to spread the lie that he had gone to visit a beautiful and entirely imaginary grotto to study in silence and peace for a while. Mars would never lie to us, they’d think. Or, if he did, he’d have a good reason. Had he? Not particularly.”

“This was no tattoo. The white marked his status as cursed. It was not his life that was stolen in the deep, but his death.”

New chapters released bi-weekly with some breaks. Search “Cursed Archivist” on Royal Road, Wattpad, Webnovel, etc.

Teenage Pyscho

There’s a party at Cole Tabb’s house tonight. After playing some madden and hitting the gym with Chris Boddie I have dinner with Jason Brivenysky, Brock Stout and Nick Simmons and we hop into the car Brock ubered and take it to Tabb’s party. I’m wearing a plain white t-shirt from uniqlo, white air force … [DO NOT CLICK]

Tshwane Snows

The dealer stood over the prone, cowering boy. A big man, he was bald under his beanie, fat below his puffer jacket and ski coat, red from the from the blood pounding beneath his skin. How dare this boy talk to him like that!

The boy’s breath was a stinking fog of stale excuses as he scrambled back on the tarmac, creaked to his feet.

The dealer charged. Grabbing his prey with sirloin fists, he wrenched him into the air by his collar, and continued screaming. The wretched boy was everything wrong with the world – lazy, entitled, a mess who couldn’t support himself, let alone anyone else, somebody who demanded the world rolled over for him instead of rolling his sleeves up and changing it!

Anatomy of Digital Melancholy

This is a tale of how the modern world brain-broke me.
I’ve spent way too much of my life staring at a screen and browsing the internet. To the point that I now consider my humanity a carcass, a casualty. So alienated have I become from this digitally poisoned dead-self, that I wish to submit it for study for the advancement of science.

i think you’ve got the wrong man

tom corn lived a more peaceful life than tom horn, the meat eater is a evil doer, the green eater is a peaceful wooer. he has his girls and he knows his world, he loves it so that he wouldn’t go to the butchers. the red meat, sitting in his seat, fat feet, sweating without … [DO NOT CLICK]