Ly Faulk
Author
Ly Faulk (they/she) is a queer writer, artist, and an all-around weirdo.
Author: lynnceefaulk
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The technician smooshes my breasts into the machine, flattening each one out in turn. Pancake flat. I wince and look away. What if the results are positive? Would it be a relief? A sort of confirmation, my rottenness made manifest. I miss a call from my sister as I lie napping. My husband kisses me…
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I watch myself miss the bus and stop running, stomp my feet in a comical, cartoon fashion. I was too far away. Such a simple mistake to make, one of many one might make every day. How did this lead to the end of the world exactly? It’s all about the butterfly effect, you see.…
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My boss tells me that cheering up Blok is my problem. Blok is depressed. We know this because lately it only responds in sad, mostly terrible poetry. What is the square root of 196? you might ask. All is grey and bleak. Reality is a nightmare from which I cannot awaken. Life is hell, it…
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The old man pulled hard on the reins to stop his sleigh and stepped down with a groan. Bracing his back with one hand, he reached into the sleigh and picked up his sack. The bag dragged through the snow as he hobbled to the motel door. Rita didn’t look up as he entered the…
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Reasons why it was the happiest I’d ever been: Photograph: dead bodies, lying on their backs with their six legs stuck up into the air. Video: a live one crawling over the moldy oranges. I swatted it, felt remorse, disposed of the body. A series of photographs: under the coffee maker, behind the bread box,…
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I kick back at my desk and idly type into my AI machine, sucking up another eighth-inch from the aquifer. A picture of a puppy biting Greta Thunberg on the ass pops onto the screen. I giggle and post it on X. My worshipers scramble to like, share, and comment. Standing, I walk over to…
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When I stepped outside my door, the fog greeted me and treated me to lunch. We went to the Cafe Du Monde and dined on beignets and vapor. The fog rolled away, saying it was running late causing an accident on the Long bridge. The rain walked me home, holding my hand gently as I…
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“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said as she handed the bartender a twenty in exchange for a tray full of shots. I just nodded at her back as she led me to a table in the corner of the room. All around us were women in various stages of undress. She set the tray…
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The hot flashes came on like a cyclone, crashing into her over and over until she was dripping sweat and steam rose from her skin. She tossed and turned every night, trying to find sleep amongst the oppressive, inescapable heat. Her mother, her friends, her co-workers had all endured this indignity with as much grace…
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She could detect impurity in others, a highly sought after skill in this day and age. With one sniff, she could tell the authorities who was the troublemaker, the outsider, the other. At first, they only used her skill in the court room. After all, troublemakers would live up to their name. When the crime…
Ly Faulk 