what are your flaws?
Lauren. 21. Montreal.

Lapsed filmmaker, lazy poet, airbender, old soul, good listener, and utterly obsessed with the mysterious and macabre.

I can normally be found with my boyfriend, having picnics in cemeteries, nursing a migraine, or occasionally working on one of my six novels, graphic novel, or screenplays.
Creative Commons License
Don't steal my shit, essentially.
1 out of 15

Why does sleep paralysis have to be a thing? It happens to me on a weekly basis and it’s always so traumatizing.

1 week ago with 4 notes
#move along#nothing to see here

So the novel that’s been kicking my ass for the last few years has finally decided to cooperate and let me write it.

2 weeks ago with 8 notes
#update

"Sometimes I feel like I’m a spoof of what I used to be."

2 weeks ago with 5 notes

home, sweet home: introduction

Before I can relate to you the creepy events of my adolescence, there are two facts you must understand:

At our first home, my mom would be unrecognizable masquerading as whatever fiendish monster she chose for Halloween, and encouraged us to follow suit. She would walk my brother and I through the dark neighborhoods when we went trick-or-treating in our small town, making sure to visit that one street that was lined with abandoned houses.

When friends would visit, my dad would put on his best Peter Lorre impression. He would tell them to behave, or risk being imprisoned in the dungeon and experimented on in the secret laboratory. At one point, he purchased an abandoned farm he planned to fix up and sell, letting my brother and I tag along to play in the ruins.

Horror movies were always allowed, ouija boards and tarot cards were anticipated birthday gifts, thunderstorms were cherished, and they never hid from us the fact that the previous owner of the house had died in our swimming pool and some suspected her son had killed her.

Looking back, it seems like they were always encouraging us to accept and perhaps even celebrate life’s darker, harsher little quirks. To smile when an old door slowly creaks open or when the moon distorts the shadows across our bedroom walls. To know Death walks idly behind us all and that it’s perfectly okay.

And those were the first seven years of my life. It seemed strange at the time considering we lived in a small Canadian town in the middle of nowhere, where the worst thing imaginable was someone not apologizing for stepping on your toe. But then we moved.

The house is outside an even smaller town, so far away from anything that the only traffic the long, dead-end street gets is from residents, wild turkeys, and wandering dogs. Most houses are pulled far back from the street, half shrouded by thick patches of woods, and the only point of interest within walking distance is a cemetery. It’s the kind of place you really don’t want to be stuck during a blizzard with no power or cellular reception while a blood-thirsty serial killer is on the loose.

Home was thirty-six acres of quiet farmland and forest, and still is when I choose to visit my parents a few times every year. But to this day, I find it difficult to be at ease there, especially if I’m left alone. Nothing strange has happened there for many years now, but we cannot forget what did happen when we moved in fifteen years ago…

3 weeks ago with 5 notes
#prose#horror#home sweet home#rejectscorner#creepy

I don’t want a hero or a knight in shining armor. I want a partner in crime.

3 weeks ago with 7 notes
Anonymous
FRIENDFRIENDFRIENDFRIEND, HI FRIEND! Good to see you about these parts. Yaaaaay!

FRIENDFRIENDFRIENDFRIEND! What name can I put to this friendly gray face? :)

4 weeks ago with 1 notes

back from the dead

I’m going to use this blog more often. While life is busy, the TWC has these magical powers of motivation and people that I dearly miss. Hello again!

1 month ago with 5 notes
#update

in tune

Have you counted the moons
since you were last bruised,
since she composed a psalm
in the hollow of shared breaths?

I did declare, to the ether,
her grave shall know company
and the universe will not flinch.

1 month ago with 7 notes
#poetry#rejectscorner#spilled ink

medium close-up

Circles and squares
compare and contrast
alternatives to auteurs,
a level paper…
what works? Bored.
Worse than Mary Ellen
frequency, overtone, cardioid —
I don’t understand.

5 months ago with 10 notes
#poetry#found poetry#what happens when I look through my film notebooks#spilled ink#rejectscorner

the unsaid, the unknown

Dedicated to Michelle for giving me the prompt “a flower, a dragon, and a girl” back in March of 2012, and Josh for reading the beginning and encouraging an ending. It’s been a long journey, and I hope the ending you choose does not disappoint.

Nowhere in the middle of somewhere, you confront the beast.

But first your eyes flutter in a struggle against consciousness and finally open up to the night. You are standing at the very edge of a great precipice, overlooking a wide valley set ablaze. The screams from below are caught in the leering cliffs that tower around the land, and are righteously smothered.

You blink. Do you know what that feeling is? Some form of pity? You wonder how many children are crying below for their mothers, how many men are tearing each other apart in the madness. Snow is falling, light against your cheek.

The crackling seizes your attention, a buzzing bee at your ear, and you turn around. Foul smoke from a blazing pyre rises up to immeasurable heights like the departing souls of the piled remains, disappearing into the starless black sky and surely into the stratosphere…

You would move toward it. You would seek comfort in its warmth were it not for the beast.

Read More

5 months ago with 8 notes
#prose#fiction#rejectscorner#ramblememoirs#strawberryminefield#chooseyourownending

skyscraper

My head played in the clouds
until gravity weighed in;
now with barrel to the temple,
I’ll shoot for the stars.

5 months ago with 16 notes
#poetry#rejectscorner

teaser

I could let your hands wander
over my body of work;
fingers could mould to curves,
the twists and turns of the plot,
words unsheathed
naked
crying out…
but I won’t spoil the ending.

6 months ago with 19 notes
#poetry#sexetry#rejectscorner

Where did we all go?

7 months ago with 4 notes
#having a nostalgic day today

NOVEL UPDATE: Still no sighting of words.

8 months ago with 4 notes
Anonymous
If the law allotted you with a single place in public you could go topless at, which place would you choose?

If by topless you mean only a bra, then I would choose the metro. It’s far too hot in there, especially in winter when you have jackets and such.

If you meant completely bare-breasted, then I wouldn’t go anywhere. Those are for mine and his eyes only. And my doctor. And my neighbours when I forget to close the curtains.

8 months ago
#Anonymous