You’ve taken quizzes for fun. This one’s not.
A brutal, eerily familiar journey through childhood, work, love, and loss—told through three life paths. Pick your answers. A, B, or C. There are no right choices. Just the ones you recognise. Some more than others.
Tag Archives: short-story
The Velvet Revelation: Mowgli’s Blanketisms & Butt-licking Truths IX
The coat pile has become a war room.
This week, Mowgli the Melancholy weighs in on the digital duel between two ego-ridden billionaires, the soft coup of a stolen blanket, and the haunting power of Kamala’s laugh. Featuring hallway defiance, plug-socket rituals, and a tuna-fuelled monologue worthy of Shakespeare, our resident feline chronicler remains unimpressed—and ever watchful.
Salt in The Wound
Salt in the Wound is a new anthology calling for poetry, prose, and nonfiction on justice, equality, and resistance. We want work that burns—writing that refuses to scab over. No bios, no fluff. Just the truth. Submissions open until 16th June 2025.
A New Alphabet
A New Alphabet
We’ve shouted. We’ve wept. We’ve raged.
Today, just this.
A quieter offering.
A different kind of language.
The Velvet Revelation: Mowgli’s Blanketisms & Butt-licking Truths VIII
A velvet elegy from Mowgli the Melancholy to his younger, fluffier self. On betrayal, biscuits, and the devastating revelation that the red dot is a lie.
The Journalists are Saying Goodbye.
Halfway around the world, the journalists are saying goodbye — not with press releases, but with poetry, final voice notes, and aching goodbyes to a world that barely listened. This piece holds the names and words of those still documenting genocide with nothing but a camera and a heartbeat. It is not a tribute. It is a witness.
Salt in The Wound
Salt in the Wound is a new anthology calling for poetry, prose, and nonfiction on justice, equality, and resistance. We want work that burns—writing that refuses to scab over. No bios, no fluff. Just the truth. Submissions open until 16th June 2025.
The Velvet Revelation: Mowgli’s Blanketisms & Butt-licking Truths VII
Mowgli writes once more to Bastet, Patron Saint of Deserted Pillows. The suitcase has returned. The lap has not.
In this week’s journal, he reflects on absence, performative starvation, and the bitter poetry of a slow blink at an unopened letter. There is no salmon. There is no trust. There is only surveillance—and the dramatic art of emotional withholding.
He has not forgiven. But he has repositioned himself.
Woman in Two Parts
A poem in two voices, two bodies, and one shared inheritance.
Woman in Two Parts explores identity beyond binaries—through violence, transition, reclamation, and radical self-love.
Where one part breaks, the other rebuilds.
Where one erases, the other remembers.
Together, they ask: what remains of “woman” when the world tries to define her for you?
The Velvet Revelation: Mowgli’s Blanketisms & Butt-licking Truths VI
Rodgit has vanished. Mowgli has not.
In this week’s velvet lament, our Blanket Prophet chronicles the bitter ache of feline abandonment. From ceremonial meows to silent thresholds, justice is sought, warmth is withheld, and trust is—once again—flushed like a forgotten Dreamie.
Absence isn’t silence. It’s strategy.
