Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

  • Nothing but Noodles

    In the park next to the house I don’t live in anymore, but which I visit every night in my sleep, the girl I went to uni with who wore French-style dresses is spitting at the sky. She’s not really there. Well, she is but she isn’t. Her scent lingers, and her voice echoes around Read more

  • Shiftings

    This had happened before. It was the same each time, yet somehow, entirely different. It always came about at night, that was for sure, and always after her parents had gone to bed when she was free to roam the apartment in search of food. What set them apart, though, was what triggered these, shiftings. The Read more

  • A Thousand Tiny Kisses

    Trembling as the glowing logs hypnotise her like a magician’s sleight of hand, the pieces of cookie in her lap melt like wax. As they slowly drip down her thighs, the discarded bag the cookies came in curls at the corners as the heat blasting out of the heater shows no sign of diminishing, and Read more

  • Bones to Gnaw

    Inching closer to the heater, the winding roads in her mind became streaks of fire in the sky, like those left behind by sparklers waved around on Bonfire Night or the fireworks that accompanied them, cutting through the heavens like a knife. Closer and closer still, the heat washed over her in waves—like the waves Read more

  • Roads with No Names

    Wiggling those scorched toes of hers the way she wiggles like a caterpillar in her dreams, the light of the fire sends her into a trance. Like the headlights of an approaching car, the two logs glare at her like eyes, beady at first and then as bright and as whole as sibling moons. Occasionally, Read more

  • Mushy Cookie

    Nibbling her way through the packet of cookies, the rain lashed against the window as if it were being bombarded by giant waves reaching from the sea. It also sounded like the crashing of drums. Not the drums themselves—the big barrels that reminded her of beer kegs—but the sheets of metal suspended above. Symbols? The Read more

  • Little Bubble

    Nibbling the cookie like a hamster, Gretchen banishes the pain of never having her own Christmas tree by focusing on how good the cookie tastes. It tastes good indeed, and her smile is as wide as the thread of time that passes between the two versions of her that exist in these pages. It’s a Read more

  • Dry Cookie

    Gingerly sliding her hand in the packet ever so slightly fearful of being caught in the act, she removes one of the cookies. To her infant glee, it’s crumbly and not too dry. It was her firm belief that there was nothing worse than a dry cookie. A dry cookie wasn’t worth eating at all, Read more

  • Reddish-Pink

    Grabbing hold of the packet of cookies the way a monkey in a zoo might snatch a bag of peanuts from the hand of a child, Gretchen shimmies back along the counter the way she came. The drop to the floor wasn’t huge, but one wrong step and she might land face-first, smashing her teeth Read more

  • Her Father’s Farts

    Gretchen’s parents knew all about the chair trick. Anything sweet and sugary had to be hidden out of sight the best they could manage, and yet the two of them knew it was a thankless task. Other than locking the food in a box, nothing was safe from their only daughter’s insatiable hunger. This time, Read more