by Whitney Zahar
The breeze kicked up a little, dampening my cheeks with a light, salty spray. My bare feet dug into the cool sand, and I curled my toes deeper into the coarse, damp grains. I watched the waves sweep and crash, a grey-blue matching my eyes.
by Janae Mitchell
The drive to the secluded cabin was even more foreboding than the stories that brought us there. Dilapidated barns and abandoned houses with broken out windows lined the curvy gravel road that left a cloud of dust in our wake. It was like driving through a backwoods ghost town.
My life has always been filled with monsters. Some were gentle, some passionate, some quiet and unsuspecting, some men, some women, and some bone-chilling terrifying. I've never known a world without them. I'm my own monster, too, I suppose. Bred and attached—a menagerie of parts from both my parents—idealistic, revered, hated, and admonished.
My first impression of the book was that this was something I was going to love, and I wasn't wrong. The description and cover baited me, and the story held my interest all the way to the end.
"It's an exploration of an author's relationship with her protagonist, an examination of the tenuous line between belief and reality, imagination and self, and what happens when that line is crossed." - After She Wrote Him
Nellie Bly, known for her book Ten Days in a Madhouse, was born in 1864 just outside of Pittsburgh. Unlike her prissy childhood nickname, Pink, she would become a true suffragette and leader in women's voices. Nellie grew up living a typical life of domestic womanhood, but she had a voice that needed to be heard. In 1885, she wrote to the Pittsburg Dispatch, going against an article that said the only purpose for women was to clean house and take care of children and that they had no business working outside the home. In her letter, she evoked a woman's God-given abilities to work and do other jobs well, despite what society thought. Her passionate rebuke landed her a job with the Dispatch for $5 a week. But women weren't respected in journalism. Women were allowed to write about food, gardening, household topics, and fashion. Nellie wanted to be a real journalist.
Inspired by the CW and Netflix show, Two Sentence Horror Stories, I decided to write and share a few of my own. Short horrors are my new favorite thing because they require a pause and some thought. Even though it’s quick to consume, it isn’t soon to digest. I hope you enjoy these five short horror stories. These spooky stories take some time to produce, so your support is greatly appreciated.
People love strange historical objects, but one stands out from the typical collection of oddities—a tear catcher.
The Victorians are known for using lachrymatories or tear catchers. If there’s one thing Victorians knew how to do, it was to mourn. They had elaborate rituals they had to follow to properly show their dead loved ones how much they meant to them. Not only did they wear fancy black clothing, but they also couldn't attend certain social events during their mourning season. They had to dress and act in a way that was appropriate for someone who was mourning.