Kai Jeffreys
Bio
Fiction and Non-fiction writer. Poet. Mexican/Irish/Comanche. Drummer, Pianist, barely in-tune vocalist. Graduate Student with not-enough time on their hands.
Achievements (1)
Stories (6/0)
- Runner-Up in New Worlds Challenge
The LunariRunner-Up in New Worlds Challenge
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. In my personal experience, space is less like a vacuum and more like the deepest parts of the ocean. You can scream, and you can wave your limbs around like a madman, but it would all be futile. In the same way that the bottom of the ocean presents an endless darkness filled with endless mutated lifeforms seeking vengeance on its failed steward, space is an infinite void of oblivion that is, most likely, full of alien life that probably hates humans.
By Kai Jeffreys2 years ago in Fiction
Red-Blooded
Embri spit at the foot of the person in front of him, flashing his most challenging smile despite the brutal taste of metallic left on his tongue. The chains that pulled his arms back and strained his shoulders were harsh against his wrists. Had he not been forced to his knees with the blunt ends of the guards’ swords, there would have been no way in hell he’d look up to the Asterian in front of him.
By Kai Jeffreys2 years ago in Fiction
Jesus is Real
Any person who says, “I don’t have to do what my parents say, I’m eighteen,” has probably never had their mother utilize her sandal as a tool of public humiliation in the middle of a low-priced grocery store. I grew up in a mixed-race household that fulfilled the stereotype for both Mexicans and Irish individuals. It began as Catholic and became non-denominational Christian, which meant that while we attended normal church and experienced communion, we did not have ‘Mass’. Because of the nature of my family, hearing sentences like “my mom will totally beat my ass,” always held different connotations than what most people would think. The saying doesn’t mean “I am a victim of abuse” as much as it means “my parents weren’t afraid to spank me as a child.” With all of this said, there was a moment in my life in which I was sure my mother was going to beat my ass in front of all my friends—the time I dropped the communion juice in Church. Through this disaster of an event, I came to realize that Jesus was real, and he saved me from an ass whooping.
By Kai Jeffreys2 years ago in Confessions
Good Luck
I was twenty-one years old when my dad died. It was sudden—unexpected—and it gutted me like a saber slicing through my liver. Mom cried—no, she sobbed—and I doubt those pained screams of horror, begging for the news to not be true, will ever leave my memory. My knees gave out and the asphalt bit into my skin, granting me scars that would never surmount to the scar left on my heart. The hiccupped heaves clawed their way out of my mother’s throat, her voice unidentifiable as each cry pierced my spirit—my very being—as if a javelin had been thrust into my lungs. He was just here—what went wrong?
By Kai Jeffreys2 years ago in Confessions
