Fruit flies invaded my dorm room.
So you let me spend the night with you.

But I could still feel them buzzing,
Burrowed deep into my bones and tissue.

In the morning you made me breakfast,
Your mom’s pancake recipe.

I felt you watching me eat,
Consuming your home cooked generosity.
____________________________________

Lately when I sleep,
I feel them diminish me.
I’m hazy and cloudy,
Can’t remember how it all used to be.

Please, release me.
I can’t see
What’s in front of me.
____________________________________

You try to absolve me,
Of all that I carry
But no one can set me free.
____________________________________

Soon the flies were gone from my bedroom,
All but a stray or two.

My mom came to buy me new bedding,
To try and make my space start to bloom.

When she left I felt them again,
Pushing to escape from my skin.

All of my fixed attention,
Focused on keeping them deep within.
____________________________________

Lately when I sleep,
I feel them diminish me.
I’m hazy and cloudy,
Can’t remember how it all used to be.

Please, release me.
I can’t see
What’s in front of me.
____________________________________

Set me free.
Set me free.
Set me free.

No one but me.

If you made it this far.. guess what! This is going to the first song we are recording for ephemera, hopefully to be released later this year. I will share more updates on that as they come. :)

Swirling water,
shades of blue.
Just like me
when I’m with you.
____________________________________

Cowed daughter,
You always knew.
You could shape her,
To fit only you.
____________________________________

Pull me down,
You fill my lungs.
I drown.

Waves sigh
In body I hide.
You shoved me down.
____________________________________

Languid lover,
A feast mildews,
Rots underneath you.
____________________________________

You tried to steal,
My breath away.
From lungs already blue.
____________________________________

Pull me down,
You fill my lungs.
I drown.

Waves sigh
In body I hide.
You shoved me down.

Fun fact! The first lyrics in this song popped into my head when I was thinking about the book version of Twilight. I originally wrote “driftwood fire” instead of “swirling water” because I was thinking about the blue driftwood fire Jacob shows to Bella in Twilight at La Push beach lol.

This story is my first foray into this kind of writing in many years. I have found through songwriting I am able to process and talk about more difficult memories and feelings. Recently, I’ve felt like I’ve been able to do the same through short stories like this one. This story is a blend of fiction and personal experience.

Subscribe now

Tomorrow is the first time I’m celebrating Valentine’s Day. At least, the first time with a boyfriend. My mom gives me a box of candy and a card every year.

We’re not going out to eat anywhere, but I’m going to his house after school. The other day he asked me what my favorite foods are. I told him I really like grilled cheese, twice-baked potatoes, and chocolate. I think he’s going to cook for me.

I’ve spent the past year imagining what my first boyfriend would be like. Someone sinfully handsome, but also incredibly kind, funny, and attentive. An amalgamation of all of my favorite book and movie characters.

I don’t really know if there’s anyone like that at Montgomery High School.

But Clark is close, definitely close. He’s really funny and is always telling me about music and movies I’ve never even heard of. He knows so much about art I didn’t know existed. Sometimes I have to pretend like I know what he’s talking about, so he doesn’t get that look.

The one where he crinkles his eyebrows together indignantly and exclaims,

“You’ve NEVER seen Back to the Future before?!”

Or whatever movie or musician he’s talking about. This happens more often than I care to admit.

I can’t bear to disappoint him, so sometimes it’s better to just pretend like I know what he’s talking about.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I get home after school, I see my mom has left something on the kitchen table for me.

I pretend like I don’t see it. I want to open it when she gets back from work.

I run upstairs to my room to change into my Valentine’s outfit.

Last weekend, my mom took me to Target to help me pick out the perfect shirt. We found this pink tank top with lace on the straps and edges. I’m going to wear it with my favorite pair of jeans and a tan cardigan.

I get dressed, then go into the bathroom to put some makeup on.

I wish I had gotten a haircut before today. Clark likes really short hair, and mine is spilling past my shoulders.

I plug in my flat iron. I can curl it to make it look shorter.

I swipe on mascara and press pink lipstick to my lips. It’s the exact same shade as my shirt.

I’m not very good at applying lipstick. It gets stuck on my teeth, and I can’t stay in the lines. I wipe it off, and it stains the skin above my lip. It looks okay on the second try, though.

I examine myself in the mirror. I think Clark will be satisfied, but I don’t feel quite right. I never like how I look in lipstick. I always think about the phrase “put lipstick on a pig.”

I hear the front door bang open. My mom is home! I run downstairs to greet her.

She smiles when she sees me, her pretty blue eyes shining.

“You look cute!”

I tell her thanks and approach her for a rare hug. Mom doesn’t like to hug as much as I wish she did.

I open the Valentine’s card and heart box of Kit Kats she got me. Kit Kats are my absolute favorite. I think this is a good omen for the rest of my night.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mom drives me the short distance to Clark’s house. We live in the same neighborhood, but it’s definitely too far to walk there by myself at night.

I walk to Clark’s house a lot in the summer, though, when we hang out in the daytime. He’ll bike over to my house, too, but most of the time I go to his. His parents have a basement, where we have more privacy.

I say goodbye to my mom and ring Clark’s doorbell. His older sister, Marie, opens the door.

She gives me a knowing smirk and calls behind her.

“Clark! Alice is here.”

Marie invites me in. I wait for Clark in the foyer as Marie heads back upstairs to her bedroom.

Marie is unbelievably beautiful. She always looks so enviably put-together. Whenever she talks to me, I never quite know what to say. Sometimes she’ll talk with us about the drama happening in the chorus and theater departments. I always agree with what she says, but my chest feels heavy when I do.

Clark runs down the entry hall, his socks sliding on the hardwood floor.

I smile when he crashes into me and pulls me close to him. He dressed up in a short sleeve button down. This is important to him, too.

He grabs my hand and pulls me to the kitchen. When he releases it, I notice a red ring around my wrist. It stings a little.

The godly combination of melted cheese and bread fills my nose. He must have made grilled cheese!

“I’m almost done. Why don’t you wait in the dining room?” Clark says.

I obey, taking a seat at one of the place settings Clark has laid out with such care. Normally, his mom can never get him to set the table.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stare down at my plate and smile. Clark has created a glorious monstrosity of a sandwich: a pizza grilled cheese.

I take a bite. It’s good, even though the cheese isn’t melted all the way. I tell Clark, and he grins proudly.

I set the sandwich back on my plate as he bustles into the kitchen to get the next course. I’m hoping it’s twice-baked potatoes, although I don’t think they’ll compare to my mom’s. I chastise myself for the thought and refocus my attention on Clark entering the dining room.

My lips curve into a soft smile as he plunks down another plate on the table.

I strain to keep the smile on my face as I look at what’s in front of me. It looks like a baked potato. But twice-baked potatoes are different. When my mom makes them, she scoops out the insides and creates a cheesy, mashed filling. Then, she puts the filling back in the potato skins and bakes them in the oven with a layer of cheddar cheese on top.

I stare at my plate as Clark says, “I baked them twice, just like you said.”

I know it doesn’t really matter, but by the time I’m done eating, the dry potato has slickened into a mass of squirming eels in my stomach.

As we eat, I struggle to pay attention to Clark and keep my painted lips upturned in contentment.

But he’s looking at me a little funny, and I’m afraid my smile has transmuted into an unwilling grimace.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After we eat, Clark guides me down to his basement to give me my Valentine’s gift.

I’m feeling a little better, the eels have calmed in my stomach and made way for butterflies.

I sit down on the couch. Clark’s hands slide behind my head and cover my eyes. I jump a little, then laugh at myself for getting startled.

I open my eyes. I don’t recognize Clark. His eyes are twinkling with such light and love. How could someone ever look at me that way?

He pushes something into my lap and starts talking, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

All sight and sound have tunneled into the small pink package of white chocolate truffles sitting on my lap.

The short-lived butterflies in my stomach are devoured by the sickening return of the bile-soaked eels.

My stomach is writhing, squirming, squiggling. The eels must be making a speedy ascent up my digestive tract and into my heart and lungs, because I feel like I can’t breathe.

A hand grabs my arm, shaking me. The eels fall back into my stomach and my vision widens.

Clark’s steely blue eyes are locked on mine expectantly.

“Did you hear me?” He asks impatiently. “Marie found these at Walgreens, and I know you love chocolate and pink!”

I open my mouth and try to express my gratitude. I’m being so unbearably sensitive. I’m so lucky that someone considered me enough to get me a gift at all. It doesn’t matter that I don’t like white chocolate.

I choke out a whisper of a thank you. Clark visibly relaxes and smiles. His eyes release me, but his hand does not.

It travels to my shoulder as its twin grasps my cheek. I think about the red ring around my wrist from earlier. He guides my face towards his for a kiss.

At first, it’s gentle and sweet. It more than makes up for the white chocolate debacle. But then, an unexpected push from his tongue forces my mouth open.

We’ve never kissed like this before. His tongue slithers around my mouth, another eel finding residence in my body. I drift away, out of my body, watching it all from somewhere far away.

I watch him give me so much love, more than I’ve ever deserved.

I watch my mom pick me up and ask me how the night was.

I watch my heavy limbs drag behind as my body heaves itself up the stairs to my bedroom.

I watch a girl in the mirror with smudged pink on her lips scrub her face long after the makeup comes off.

I only return after, when I am lying in my bed waiting for sleep to come. The eels in my stomach welcome me home.

If you come to this show, you might see the very first ever 3-person ephemera lineup with drums and potentially a new song. I am also going to be singing a song with the touring act.

If you made it this far, enjoy this super duper secret unreleased demo on SoundCloud.

Dead man floating in the ocean,
vision blurred all around.

Hiding under a canoe
that’s in your neighbor’s yard.

Don’t make a sound,
I have been found.
Feet are slapping the ground.

____________________________________

Built my home
In the frame of the past,
And I know it can’t last.

Crumbled walls,
Empty halls.
And it’s all in my head,
In my head,
Always in my head.

____________________________________

Sugar coating,
Closet ice cream,
Coldness on my tongue.

Hot dogs roasting,
Buns are toasting,
Belly’s bursting now.

Jump in the sound,
Rocks on the ground,
Tide is pulling me out.

____________________________________

Crumbled walls,
Empty halls.
And it’s all in my head,
In my head,
Always in my-

Always in my head,
I am rotting in my brain.