*SadisticIceCream

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About Literature / Artist Premium Member Kate21/Female/United States

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Tasks of the GrievingShe moved about the room systematically, placing things in her satchel. It wouldn't take long, the bag wasn't large and her need to leave was urgent. She couldn't bear the memories anymore. It was all too hard now, besides she had work to do. It's what he would have wanted.

She finished packing her bag and left the room with only a momentary pause and glance behind her. She did a circuit of the small house, checking she had everything she would require and that it was tidy. While she was away she was putting the house in the care of her aunt to board out, she would need the money as she travelled. Her circuit inevitably lead her to that closTasks of the Grieving by ~rebecca-rideout

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34. StarsMemphis crept out onto the balcony, quietly watching his mother. She was leaning against the railing, staring up at the sky. He walked up behind her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She jumped slightly, smiling as she turned to look down at him.

"What are you doing out of bed, sweetheart?" she asked, ruffling his hair slightly. Memphis shrugged, looking up at the spot she had been staring at.

"What were you looking at?" he asked, squinting slightly as he tried to focus.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed, "Just thinking about home." Memphis stuck out his lower lip in a small pout as the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown.

"Do you miss 34. Stars by ~Bibi15

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unfinished thoughtsi.

wake up. i can't stay long.

we are a series of fleeting moments that spell out "bad timing" and "tragic romance". you are broken machinery and i am still trying to decipher the binary code for love. ones and zeros collide into a lump in my throat and suddenly, the idea of saying goodbye makes my fingertips ache and my wrists burn.

ii.

do you remember when we kissed? it was a messy pile of metaphors and we were scared that somebody would see us and try to clean us up. i still ghost the back of my hand over my lips and imagine that it's yours, but then i remember that "yours" and "mine" are not words that apply to you and me anymore.

iiunfinished thoughts by ~Vlavisfaults

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If I Stay: A Fiction in Letters by =Xtemporary-insanityX

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An Idiot's Guide to Lit Mag Publishing

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Drive by *SadisticIceCream

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An Idiot's Guide to Book Publishing by *SadisticIceCream

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For Our Cat OverlordsKitty-cat claws sink
into bark. Marmalade sits
atop a branch: queen.For Our Cat Overlords by *SadisticIceCream

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Pieces by *SadisticIceCream

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Freud and Broken Christmas TreesShe spilled the news on me before I even had the chance to react. And what would you even say to that, anyways? I'm sorry? Geez, that sucks? How's it feel to be an only child now? No. Never. You don't say that kind of stuff. You will never be able to find the words to say until it happens to you, too. God forbid.

And she just kind of stared at me. That look was piercing, haunting. It froze my tendons and turned my thoughts to dust. I was a nothing, I was worse than the dirt under her shoes. Because I couldn't solve anything. Because I couldn't make it better. Because I was just as helpless as she was, and she hated me for it.

The feeling wa

Freud and Broken Christmas Trees

by *tsundoku

Hello! I found this in the Literature Critique Thread. Please ignore the star rating. I think this a vignette that accurately capture...

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Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit:Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit:

(Dreams)

When the blue jacaranda mocked the sky
Sleep bound is she, the drowsy brilliance
below the whispering branch.

Her Caño Cristales hair,
strewn amongst wild blue and green;
Though her eyes
tell of time waiting,
when the wind was lonesome and
slaughtering butterflies in its chill.

They turned, almost at once
Eyes gray, yet dancing with the frenzied
glory of cosmos.
Striking out at her wanderer, like a warm
crash of wave.
She understood, "Your laurel leaves speak of death
but I still need you."

And he wept, "Your garland
speaks of the flowers, streams
and the meadows which is our home."

(

Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit:

by *Canis44

Hello! I found this on the Literature Critique Thread. Please ignore the star rating. I don't usually critique poetry because I typic...

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Winters Death

Any morning of the week you can walk into your local knock off brand grocery store and find stacks of newsprint papers on your left as you walk in, wiping snow dust off your shoe onto the mat before the crystal flakes melt past the leather into your now soggy black cotton socks.

Not one minute in the dairy milk perfumed air after you walk in through automatic sliding doors, then past windows barring gusts of snow dunes, and there are newspapers. Newsweek, Times, Global something are all there but you pass them for the local paper.

The winter moisture that had soaked into your skin now has already evaporated and the paper grates against your

Winters Death

by *thomasbisbee

Hello! I stumbled upon this in the Literature Critique Forum. Please ignore the star rating. I think your concept is an incredibly fa...

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I'm thinking of reorganizing my Publishing Resources List and I'd like your input!

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*SadisticIceCream

Kate
Artist | Literature

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| The G.W. Review | Publishing Resources!

My name is Kate, but most of my friends call me Cake. I take a lot of pictures, but I primarily see myself as a writer; I've been scribbling since the age of eight (and I would like to think that I've improved since then).

I'm a native New Yorker, but I moved to Washington, DC and got a BA in English and Creative Writing in 2013. I now live and work full-time in Arlington, VA.

I'm also an admin over at #dA-lta, a humor literature group, and #TransmetLit, a group that promotes transgressive fiction, so feel free to join me there.

Cheers!

Interests

Here and there

Journal Entry: Sat Jun 15, 2013, 12:32 PM

Need publishing resources? Click here!

First off, two things:

1. #transliterations is back from the dead with a brand new prompt, so for those of you who are looking to get those creative juices flowing, click over here and check it out.

2. ~SkysongMA has just opened her new group, #Persistent-Practice, which features lots of activities and discussions to get you to kick your own ass and start writing more regularly, so you should check that out too.

On the personal front, I'm being super-boring. I started my job last week, and so far it's going pretty well -- we're in a slow period because it's summer, and since the journals are geared toward teachers, we only put out one issue for the summer months. So I've been doing a bit of busywork, but on the bright side people are nice, the content I'm working with is interesting, and helping teachers is definitely a thing I love doing.

I'm hoping to get more writing done as I settle into a routine, which I'm beginning to. I'm also supposed to be studying for the GRE but that has also fallen by the wayside. I blame general summer lethargy -- the DC area was built on a swamp, and you're never reminded of that more than in the summer.

And finally, on the general good news front, I'm being published! I was solicited by what is apparently a pretty big-shot lit mag in the DC area last year, and I was going to submit...and then forgot. And missed the deadline.

So I tried again this year, and instead of being published in the journal, the press is apparently putting out an anthology of fiction by DC-area women writers and needed some more content, so it's getting slotted in there instead. So I get to be published alongside all these fantastic writers, and a fancy book launch at Politics and Prose, and I'm still pinching myself I can't believe it.

I'll let you all know more details when I do -- the release is in November and I'm hoping to get the galleys (bound proofs) soon.

How are the rest of you?