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  • 4/7/25

    write something that begins with an odd or fun fact


    April 10th was the 100th day of the year. 100 days since I found myself lying face-up in the cold darkness of the mountains, snow tickling my face as I stared into the abyss above, counting every star as if it were every second passing while I slowly froze to death.

    I had decided to go skiing by myself that night to celebrate my newfound loneliness after leaving my boyfriend of six years. Plus, it was New Year's Eve - why not start a new year, as a newly single person, doing something new? Not that skiing was new to me - rather, skiing alone at night. I should have known there was a reason why I had never done it previously.

    A snow drift bigger than I had anticipated caught the front of my ski and pulled my head forward as if a claw had jutted out of the ground and grabbed it itself. I tumbled over and over, caught in a vortex of my own weight and velocity, feeling as though it would never end. Suddenly, it did.

    Everything was still. The trees held their breath as they waited for me to let go of my own. My mind, though floating out of my skull and looking down at my own body, frantically asked over and over if I could move anything. First, my eyes. They darted back and forth and blinked, making sure they could still see. All they took in was the blackness of the night, but the peripherals caught shapes and whiteness. Good, they still worked. Slowly, but surely, the rest of my body followed. Nothing felt broken, but I'm sure I would feel all the bruising within the next few days.

    100 days. 100 tumbles. 100 heartbreaks. And I survived them all.


    Started strong but derailed quickly because I got distracted by work LMAO

  • 3/31/25

    this week, recycle an old piece (or several) for this club into something new! patch lines together, ideas together, images together. frankenstein it! if you haven't been in this club long, then use any other old writing of yours


    I want a happy ending for you two. I don't want to see you suffer. I'm so tired of writing about sadness, anguish, fear, and the unknown. There is too much of that in the real world already. I want you two to thrive.

    You never visited that therapist that Todd recommended. You still went ahead and practiced switching for the first time with [REDACTED] in your home, and it was a success. You were scared, but [REDACTED] comforted you as before. He held your subconscious hand the entire time, just as you had always held his when the roles were reversed.

    You watched as he physically held a paint brush for the first time, rather than miming your movements while you clumsily slid the paint across the canvas. His moves were much more precise, more delicate, with more thought behind them. In admiration, you watched him paint a simple scene of a park, with the leaves blowing softly in the wind, and flower petals scattering across the sky and the ground. It was serene. When he finished, he smiled and pulled you back into your own body, spinning you around as if you two were in a dance, and then faded into the subconscious you emerged from.

    You didn't argue. He didn't plead for you to let him back into your body. There was never a secret, third entity trying to take control of the both of you. You two lived peacefully and happily. Eventually, even the arachnurses noticed your mood change, and you were allowed to leave the assisted living apartment. You two got a cat. She looked like Lucy and was just as lovable. You were given a second chance, in more ways than one.

    I revisted your unfinished story for the first time in almost two years. I was so cruel to you. I wanted to be edgy and cosmic. Because of this, your life became a mess. We never made it this far, but I had plans to have you kill someone and committed for life. I'm so sorry.

    And what of [REDACTED]? You saw him again, in reality. If the original story ever did continue, he would be dead by your hand, because you mistook him for your tulpa. Instead, he physically came to life and met you again, not as [REDACTED], but as Lee. Did he possess Lee? You'll never know, and I will never ask. Now he can hold Lucy and you and softly breathe in your ear as the three of you fall asleep, content with what has become.


    This is a short re-write of a story I was writing for NaNoWriMo in 2023 about a woman who discovers tulpamancy. The original plan was to have her tulpa turn on her, make her crazy, and committ murder. Reading it back to myself almost two years later exhausted me. I hope you are finally happy in this new reality.


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