Chai Tea Latte

Chai Tea Latte

Every morning, suddenly, I am awake. My hair falls in my face as I sluggishly rise from my overly pillowed bed, the warmth leaking out from my nest as soon as my feet hit the cool wooden floor. My chest feels heavy and my eyes burn from sleep. Sometimes I have an alarm to turn off, and other days I’ve woken up on my own.

Some days, I brush my teeth and comb out my hair, styling it in the same fashion as any work day. Loose around my shoulders with a plaid or solid colored headband. I apply a brown, matte lipstick and apply just enough eye makeup to hide the bags under my eyes and make it seem as if I had a good night’s rest. My cardigans always matched my headband and my skirts always had biking shorts underneath. My socks were always white, or if I was feeling daring that day, patterned with some kind of cute animal. I have an image to keep, as any accountant would.

Other days I let my body flow freely, wearing just a loose tanktop and a pair of basketball shorts around my apartment. My tattoos are exposed and my hair goes wild and unbrushed for the sake of freedom. I might be drunk by noon, and I might stay sober until the sun goes down. If it’s a special occasion, I might even order in takeout and get high until I feel sideways and don’t know which way is up.

Between my days, there’s one thing that is always consistent. The shop around the corner from my apartment complex always calls to me at the same time each day. Thirty minutes before the coffee shop closes, I stop in, either in my perfect work attire or my messy loungewear, and I see her smile and wave to me, her smile perfect and her eyes crinkling just so.

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Always returning

Always returning

Some people have an allure to them, an absolute chemical and social attraction that draws in even the most strong willed of minds. He had a draw like that, and each time he came back to me, my life was ruined.

We dated for two years. He taught me to play chess and I showed him all the best spots to hang out. He read philosophy notes to me over the phone while I dozed off. I drew him pictures and left cute notes in his hoodie pockets while he saved up his allowances to take me to see plays and fairs. I was so in love, and he was so in love.

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For Just A Moment

For Just A Moment

This is more of just a warmup, but since it turned out so well I decided to post it here.

My heart fluttered in my chest. I hadn’t actually traveled alone before. One of my hands gripped the handle on my luggage as I carefully pulled it behind me, the wheels clicking on the cracked pavement outside of the Greyhound station. This was just a layover between busses, and somehow waiting for the next bus the most nervewracking part of the journey.

I pulled open one of the heavy doors to the building, knowing I had to wait about half an hour for my bus. The inside of the station was… seedy, at best. The middle of the room was large and empty, with stray benches along one wall. The other had the ticket takers. I saw a sign advertising a deli towards the back of the room, right above some vending machines that had scratched, cloudy glass. Pressing my lips together, I thought it might be best to skip the probably sketchy bus station deli and not even think about anything from that vending machine. I’d rather wait four more hours to eat than possibly make myself sick on questionable food.

I turned around, promptly heading back outside where everyone else waiting for their busses were. I stationed myself next to a pillar in the middle, nervously putting my hands in my hoodie pockets. A mental inventory of what I had to eat came to half of a bottle of water, one can of coconut water, some nacho cheese, and a bag of goldfish crackers. In my luggage I had 3/4ths a bottle of strong vodka and some saltwater taffy. It’ll have to do.

Remembering that I had a pack of cigarettes in my satchel, I reached in and dug one out, along with my pack of matches. I quickly lit up, taking a nervous drag as I looked around me. Everyone was grouped up with other people. I was alone, in a strange city, hundreds of miles from home.

And then someone caught my attention.

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#Katsparty

#Katsparty

Inspired by a writing prompt on Reddit.


It’s my birthday again.

My roommate, Joey, had practically assaulted me in order to put a stupid cardboard party hat on my head. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at it. The hat stuck out like a goddamn sore thumb compared to the rest of my look. My clothes are black, black, and you guessed it, black. I leaned in, examining my face in the mirror. I supposed it was about time to change my lip piercing to something less subtle. The stud always sort of got boring after a while, but for some reason, I always put that one in. Sighing, I figured it didn’t matter. I had work to do today. It was the only way that I could earn more time.

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companionship.exe Part One

companionship.exe Part One

Let’s play spot the reference.


Would you like to not be alone anymore? Press ‘Yes’ to confirm companionship.exe’
The dialogue box presented itself on the wall of my bedroom. I stared at it, pondering what it could mean. In the eighteen years I’ve lived here, my house has never run a prompt like this, much less started a process to keep me from being alone. 

My finger hesitated over the confirmation button. It’s been eighteen years. Why hasn’t my house run this function yet? Did it not know that I was lonely? It had learned my dislikes, my preferences, what song I want to play when I bathe, how I like my lights dimmed in the evening, and even when to turn on the sprinklers for my garden. 

What kind of companionship could the house offer? If I can go without human contact for he majority of my life, I’m sure I can live the rest of it without contact as well. Still, the possibilities ran through my mind. If I wanted to be alone again, I could always tell the house to let me be alone again, right? 

After a few minutes ticked by, I hit the ‘yes’ button. My curiosity had gotten the best of me, yet again. Let’s see what companionship.exe does.

Almost immediately, I could hear the supercomputer in the basement begin to whir. Electricity seemed to fill the air as companionship.exe was executed. I’ve had he house run processes this heavy before, but something seemed much different about this one. I heard a faint clanking noise from the basement, and instead of worrying, I sat down on the edge of my bed and took a deep breath. 

For what seemed like an eternity, but really only was about half an hour or so, the house buzzed with life as it ran this mysterious process. Distant banging sounds rang through the house every few minutes as it put together something. From what I know about the house, I figured it was some kind of dinky robot or advanced hologram system.

What walked through my door was neither of those. 

It didn’t even knock before entering. My head snapped up from my lap as I saw the being in my doorway. There was no way that he was human, since I know my house built him for me, but…

He leaned in the doorway, sunglasses on even though we were inside. He raised on hand, lazily waving at me before pushing aside some of his soft looking, platinum blonde hair. 

“Sup.”

‘Sup’ indeed. I got up, heart pounding as I made my way over to him. He didn’t seemed phased by my sudden intrusion of his personal space when I gently touched his clothes, his arms, or even ran my fingers across his cheek.

Synthetic skin overtop a metal skeleton. He felt so real. Almost human.

“What are you doing?” He stepped back, shaking his head. “At first I just wanted to see where you were going with this shit, but if I’m gonna live here with you, you can’t be fondling me all the damn time.”

Now that he’s speaking, I got a good taste of his voice. It was a sort of deep, but not quite, with a certain elegance behind it.

That night, I took my new friend outside. We sat on the fourth floor balcony, feet hanging out over the forest below us. For the first time in eighteen years, I was having a real conversation with someone.

His name is David, and his programming makes him thinks he’s human. 

Perfect

Perfect

“You’re so perfect.”

She sighed as she said it, her full lips parting in anticipation. She knew what I was going to do next, because I always did the same thing. My lips pressed against her warm ones, and she wrapped her arms around me and giggled, trying to contain her smile. I’m not sure how she never got tired of my predictable moves.

“I love everything you do, like you were made just for me. You’re the woman of my dreams, May.”

One of my hands ran its way through her soft, silky hair, still damp from the steaming shower that she put herself through. She thought the scalding hot water would help burn off the exposure from outside. I pulled her closer still, my free hand holding onto her tiny waist.

“You’re never going to leave me, right?” It was different from the things she usually said. She was anxious, almost as if she really was scared I would leave. Where else would I go?

“No.” My voice was softer than hers, almost scratchy, and like it shouldn’t belong to me. 

“I know. I just like to hear you say it.” She broke away from me for a second, pushing my hands away from her. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.” 

I followed, as obidient as ever. I can’t say I was in the mood for what she wanted, but it would kick in. My body always responds at a certain point, after all.

I went to bed with her, my touches as gentle or as rough as she needed them to be. I bathed afterwards, just like she liked me to, and washed off the evidence of our coupling. The scent would stick to my skin and make her sick otherwise. Sometimes, I was glad she didn’t join me, because this was my only real time of peace.

At midnight, long after she had fallen asleep, I let my hair down, and stood in front of the mirror. Dark locks rested on my shoulders and stone gray eyes stared back at me in the mirror. I opened my mouth, examining my teeth, my tongue, my throat. It was all so.. normal. 

I wish I was normal.

I knew that she would be up in a few hours and would want her breakfast in bed, just like every morning. I needed to have my strength for the next day. I tucked some hair behind my ear and pressed the small panel behind my earlobe. Pulling the charging cable out, I grabbed the wall usb plugin on the bathroom sink and connected the two together. The plugin went into the wall, and a small beep emitted that announced that the connection was successful.

Tomorrow she was taking me to a robotics convention. She wasn’t going to tell anyone what I was, but instead, to just revel in the knowledge that she’s the only person on Earth to build the perfect lover. 

If only my programming would allow me to be anything else.

Six Times Removed

Deep breath. Unblock. Add friend. Now I wait.
My heart pounds in anticipation as the minutes pass by. This’ll be the sixth time I’ve gone brought this process with him. I wonder why he still wordlessly accepts my friend requests, but I’m certainly not going to say anything to him unless he brings it up first. And maybe even then, I won’t answer, and I’ll just block him again and start the process over once more several months from now.

Within half an hour, he accepts my request, and I open his highly private Facebook profile, which was now accessible to me once more. I scroll through his posts from the past few weeks, ignoring the “About tab”. I don’t want to see the thing that I already know.

As always, his profile is the opposite of mine. Mine is consistently filled with posts about charities, workers rights, political matters of all sorts, and of course, news stories about animals being cute. One was even about a play that I had been cast in. His was full of posts about his daily life, with tons of likes and comments. My posts rarely got any at all. He posted jokes and memes, along with photos of his pet rats and his long term boyfriend.

God, he was beautiful.

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Character Development

Character Development

All authors have a certain special way of developing their characters. I have no idea how exactly I’m going to develop mine. Filling out a questionnaire about them doesn’t feel right, and writing snippets of her daily life or her in unique situations doesn’t quite do it for me either. It almost feels forced, somehow. I’ve been working on fleshing out one of my characters for my book, seeing as I can’t get very far if I don’t know her very well, and things have been a little rocky.

At this point in the story, my main character is beginning to develop and her inner desires are becoming evident. I don’t know how to bring her through the first story arc, because I don’t know her as well as I’d like to. I’ll just have to spend some of my downtime, and my uptime, trying to get into my main character’s headspace.

This, readers, is the only real way I can develop my characters. It’s probably super common, but for me to write someone completely different than me, I’ll have to do some hands on field research. That’s why I’m sitting in a public place, writing things in a notebook in between tapping away on my phone, and drinking an overpriced coffee like a pretentious cliche.

That’s totally something that my character would do. Too bad I’m not dressed for the part. 

-Spencer Holly 

I Still Exist

I Still Exist

I wrote this story well over a year ago. The only other place you can find it online is on the Tumblr page of fifteenhours-creepystories. I really love that blog, and often go there to get my fix of original horror stories. This version of the story is slightly different than the original that I wrote so long ago, and I think the ending is much better and less anti-climactic. I’ve also changed the title of the story. I also originally posted this story on an old, cold, dead WordPress I used to have before I deleted the entire thing. 


If anyone is reading this, I can honestly say that I’d be surprised. Not surprised that someone was reading this, but surprised that my words managed to reach someone. It would mean that in some way, I’m still here, and I still exist. It’s the only thing that I want. It started years ago; before I was aware of it. I faded away, and I’m not sure if I’m really still here, and the world is ignoring me, or if I really don’t exist anymore. I want someone, at least one person, to know my story, and I’m scared that it’s too late for me.

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My Strongest Quality 

Inspired by a writing prompt on Reddit. 

The world is a wonderfully confusing place. There was so much mystery surrounding the human race and the universe that we inhabit that sometimes, it felt as if we would never have all the answers. With every new discovery, countless questions would crop up, each with their own answer and set of follow up questions. The occurrence of familiars is quite a popular field of study, as nobody could possibly know where they came from or how exactly they manifested. Familiars tended to manifest during a persons life when they were just an inch away of finding themselves. They always took the shape of a creature that best physically represented their person’s strongest, or greatest quality, and served to fulfill a role in that person’s life that no other human being was capable of filling.

I got mine when I was 21.

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