Category: Creative Writing

The Sun and Moon were of the same Heavenly flesh. Cut from each other, weathered lovers sewn together, but ripped apart by the Red Sky’s envy. They walked hot coal clouds, barefoot and bare-hearted. The Sky is a lonely Hell. You can ask anyone who has been there, but no one knows more than the wives of broken  skies, who loved with silk atmospheres for centuries. That was before people came and built The Sky—built to burn. Envy is not green. It’s more red than liberated blood. Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to our weekly newsletter to find out when new stories are published. [hubspot portal="4679048" id="962ea2a6-7b06-442a-90fd-58a7c8a4ecc9" type="form"] Learn how to join our Writers Cohort here. Follow us:

I’m trying to sift between something tangible and something imperceptible something like that slightly wet and malleable sand that’s best for making sandcastles blue Play-Doh rubber cement cream sauce that’s been in the fridge overnight Jell-O gel medium cottage cheese or that mixture of glue, flour, and water for papier-mâché that’s too thick to work properly Something like him mansplaining the non-existent friendzone to you while you’re sitting on his face for the second time tonight, and the third time in as many days something like her messaging you on Facebook to break up with you when she has  your phone number or trying to decide if you should hold his hand or wait for her to hold yours is it too early to call her? 3 on the Kinsey