Kristen G she/her
Bio
35 yr old she/her
Stories (9/0)
The man I love
Kieran was plagued by the spoils of war, and the persistent cowbell presented to him by women, born as US citizens. He lived between a world of absurdism, and another reality, a kid in a candy store. Resentful about the spoils of war at himself. He was born around the time of the USSR, or around the issues arising from Chernobyl. Born in New Orleans, and unaware of winter culture, like all good Southerners. He inherited a long line of emotional turmoil, and toxic guilt from veterans through the bloodline of his family. All veterans who have fought in wars, never able to live up to the juggernaut label from their foreign friends.
By Kristen G she/her 4 months ago in Chapters
I am you
As I purchase the ball of rice, as the yen drops to the dollar, I think of my comfortable life back in the United States. I sigh, feeling the insight, to live on the other side of the coin. Living so poorly, should I delve deep into romanticism, live in a dream like world, in love with grief and suffering. To dig a bit deeper, to feel a bit harder, to grit towards the brink of war. To have the hell, beaten out of me by the upcoming winter.
By Kristen G she/her 5 months ago in Confessions
Deserted
I smiled to myself as I watched the three girls sleep, heads all tilted off to the left wobbling as the train stopped. Their bangs revealing a part of their scalp, the girl at the end deep asleep with a different style haircut and color, but just as innocent as the others. Their sleep was in unison, all connected by an invisible string. The old man a few seats down let out a large sneeze, to my amusement, the girls lifted their heads startled in synchrony, yet still asleep. Not even one girl opened her eyes, as they drifted back into a doze.
By Kristen G she/her 6 months ago in Critique
Silent Treatment
He moved quietly and peacefully, as a tired soul awakened from the past. As he sat listening to the secretary give her sales pitch. He listened to my clicking of the keyboard, the tapping of my pen. His silence seemed as though he were trying to hear what I was thinking, in this long drawn out silence.
By Kristen G she/her 7 months ago in Fiction
Silent treatment
He moved quietly and peacefully, as a tired soul awakened from the past. As he sat listening to the secretary give her sales pitch. He listened to my clicking of the keyboard, the tapping of my pen. His silence seemed as though he were trying to hear what I was thinking, in this long drawn out silence.
By Kristen G she/her 7 months ago in Chapters
Stuck
I watched as an elderly man walked on to the train in his all white track suit. His shoes, his hat, his sweats, his socks, and long beard, all white. He grabbed the hanging handle above him and continued to lightly jog walk in place as the train slowly began to make it’s way to the next station.
By Kristen G she/her 8 months ago in Art
