Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

Prose

  • X

    Walking in the middle of the road with a bottle of beer in hand, I see this orb, this glowing, yellow and orange orb, and in my drunken state, I imagine it to be X. As it hovers above the trees before swooping to the ground, it fizzes and hisses like one of those sparklers… Read more

  • Fluff- S.K. Nicholas/A Journal for Damned Lovers

    Originally posted on Sudden Denouement Collective: Beware the moon, boy. Beware her swollen belly too as she stumbles into the room demanding the last of your Jaffa Cakes. Even if you really love someone, you should never give them the last of your Jaffa Cakes. It’s just one of those things you never do, right?… Read more

  • four in the morning

    80’s horror movies on videotapes sifted from boxes sitting around for years doing nothing heather langenkamp with those cute lips and goofy front teeth and those vaginal eyebrows that speak to me of the wonders of desperate sweat pyjamas then no pyjamas hands around a throat then fingers in the mouth with streams of spit… Read more

  • all outlines remain

    flowers tied to a lamp post celebrating those dead kids you still hear playing long into the night dog head poking out the window licking the wind dribbling on the pizza delivery man below who’s bringing me my meat feast and garlic bread with outstretched arms and a single clenched fist which he shakes at… Read more

  • Like Superman

    I wanna run into the sun. Just strip myself of skin and become one with all things. So I run. Dropping my groceries to the ground, I launch through the streets into the woods and then the nearby fields, moving as fast as my aching legs allow. It’s not pretty nor is it graceful, and… Read more

  • She’s Greasy

    When she’s on the brink, she tastes suicide and there goes another of her nine lives. Her toes have gone numb. Each and every one of them. Her throat’s tight, too. So tight she can barely breathe. She stinks. Sickly so sickly. Sweet so sweet like sugar on wet lips. She blinks her eyes. One… Read more

  • The Sounds of Interpol

    She’s got her cigarettes. She’s got her magic pills, too. Those that keep her mind from cracking like a nut when things get too much. Swallowing one with a mouthful of ginger beer, she pinches her nipples and bites her tongue imagining it’s his teeth and not her fingers working their magic. If she closes… Read more

  • That Perfect Kiss

    Down unfamiliar streets, this body of mine crumbles with each step, and yet from within, there’s this music that beats to a tune of its own. Flesh slips from bone and doubt dances with regret, and not one hour goes by when it doesn’t feel like I’m struggling for each breath, but here I am,… Read more

  • My Own Personal Rain Cloud

    Down the stairwell opposite the cinema. Got a cold so I press my finger against my left nostril and shoot snot from the other that flies through the air then out of sight. Got some tobacco in my back pocket but whenever I smoke my throat burns and life feels desperately cruel so I refrain.… Read more

  • Child of Her Time

    The hours run away. They slip and slide like the tiny feet of the ducks and swans that glide over the frozen lake in her lunchtime dreams. Behind those eyes of hers, the world blooms, and there’s no such thing as heartache and no such thing as pain, and life is this one long car… Read more