Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Art

  • On All Fours

    Tilting her head so that the curls of her hair tumble to the dusty ground, inch by inch, she silently surveys the canvas with a look of devilry in her eyes. Positioning herself on all fours with a grunt and a groan, she crawls towards it like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting… Read more

  • The True Dance

    With their ears pricked, the other students wait for a commotion, but Gretchen is content to bide her time. The brandy has warmed her belly nicely, and as it works its alcoholic magic, it won’t be long until she sets it aside and opens a can of beer. The beer won’t keep her warm, but… Read more

  • Two Tears that Trickle

    Kicking off her shoes, she removes her holey socks using her big toes and sighs a sigh of relief the same as she did when she whipped off her bra. Hanging on the wall before her is a blank canvas. Stapled into place, it stretches from one side of her studio space to the other.… Read more

  • Not Happy, but Tender

    Unscrewing the bottle of brandy as she sits slumped against the wall, she sniffs and gags and sniffs again as the foul-smelling spirit worms its way into her brain. The smell reminds her of old man’s aftershave, and creepy uncles with wandering hands and the packets of Fisherman’s Friend her father would keep in the… Read more

  • Secret Wee

    Going back to those paint cans. Some have labels, while others are blank. Some contain coffee she can’t be bothered pouring down the sink in the communal kitchen, and others are full to the brim with piss because, likewise, she can’t be arsed to walk to the toilets. When she drinks her alcohol, she needs… Read more

  • Piss and Old Coffee

    Shifting between a strange art student and a demonic, life-size spider, she now resembles a blathering and belligerent Tasmanian Devil. Kinda like the one from the cartoons she once watched as a child around her grandparents’ house after school with a plate full of food on her lap and a glass of lemonade by her… Read more

  • Lonely Roads

    With her cheek against the ground, she sees clumps of hair and lumps of dust among drips of freshly splattered paint. The floor could almost be a work of art in itself. It’s certainly better than the work those on her course are capable of shitting out. Not that she wants to be a cunt… Read more

  • Sliding Doors

    Pushing the door with an outstretched hand, a glowy warm light washes over her body, painting her pale cheeks with a smidge of pink. Blowing onto her aching fingers that are cracked, sore and ready to bleed, the mist follows her in and tries to pull her back onto the street, but with a swift… Read more

  • Tickle in Her Tummy

    Lost to the world, the blast of a horn brings her back to the here and now. Thinking once more of the Elephant Man as she wipes her nose on the sleeve of her coat, she imagines him again hurrying through the backstreets of London, endlessly pursued by those hellbent on giving him a good… Read more

  • Flesh is Mostly Useless

    His touch is shy, but the more it lingers, the more she sees how for the first time in his life, it makes him feel good to be alive and less shameful to exist within his curious skin. His lips are wet, and the kiss is clumsy, but then again, so is hers. The belt… Read more