My Little Corner 🧚🏿‍♀️

I was talking to a spirit of white supremacy

Autumn Irene — Thu, 27 Aug 2026 20:44:46 GMT

I was talking to a spirit of white supremacy in my dreams and it told me that this all started because their father never showed them what love was.

And I wondered about that because neither did mine, and yet…

So I asked the spirit, “Do you not see beyond your father?”

And then the glass cup between us split in two.

“So very fragile,” my Ancestors whispered.

Micro fic is my place for the prose living in my notes app.

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Mother Earth told me the God men talk of is too small to be real.

Autumn Irene — Thu, 27 Aug 2026 09:01:44 GMT

Mother Earth told me the God men talk of is too small to be real.

The winds roared as Mother Earth shouted to me, “What is man but blood and guts stitched together with bone thread and flesh?”

“Nothing without the marrow,” I shouted back.

“And the marrow’s might be more real than the God that lives in man’s head,” She said.

And then the wind swept over my skin and my mind was mine again, until Mother Earth returned to me beneath spindling trees, where danced moss and spiders spinning their tales to the tune of Her breeze in the Florida heat; which always felt…a little like God.

THE END

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The Noose Man

Autumn Irene — Wed, 22 Jul 2026 01:16:09 GMT

Have you ever heard of the Noose Man? He’s got the tongue of a snake and the mouth of a horse. He stands at the edge of the Realms of the Dead swinging his noose, looking for loot.

His men wear long white hats on their heads. They do their work when the Moon’s gone all dark to keep their sins from getting caught in The Mirrors. But when the Sun comes up shining on strange, rancid fruit, the air knows, we all know. Black folks don’t hang themselves from trees. It’s the Noose Man, you see, he still got them masters bent at their knees. This land they claim ain’t never been theirs, there’s always a cost, it’s never been free!

Thats why the Dead Mothers sing to me,

Stay indoors till black Moon’s morn,

and live to die another day,

another way,

when Noose Man’s called his guards to pray.

THE END

Oh, The Horror! is my place to get spooky.

Don’t forget to check under the bed tonight 🧟‍♀️

Introducing: Afro So-Real!!!

Autumn Irene — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 19:46:55 GMT

A few weeks ago I started writing a revenge folk horror story called, Voodoo Doll, that followed a young Black woman seeking vengeance against her abusive ex stepmother who binded her to a doll as a child. As I gave the story breath, however, it became something quite different.

Souls in the Soil is an Afro surrealist fantasy that follows Netta Lottie Jones, a young Black woman who inherits the oaths of her ancient ancestors. It takes place in the present day United States and tells the story of how Netta came to know herself walking her grandad’s land. This story will be published soon!

Souls in the Soil and others like it will live here at Afro So-Real!!! A space for me to publish Afro Surrealist fiction regularly.

While Voodoo Doll remains simmering in its pot on the back burner, this is where my pen has taken me!

Welcome to the Afro Surrealist prose of my dreams 🌬️