Lauren Everdell
Bio
Writer. Chronic sickie. Part-time gorgon. Probably thinking about cyborgs right now.
Website: https://ubiquitousbooks.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scrawlauren/
Twitter: @scrawlauren
Stories (27/0)
- Top Story - February 2024
With LoveTop Story - February 2024
Dear Idiot, This is why people have filing systems. Stuffing me in an unread book was a bad move. Do you even read by the way? Judging by the state of my neighbours I’m thinking not. Pages pristine, covers an inch deep in dust. You’re never going to find me.
By Lauren Everdell3 months ago in Fiction
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
The raw power of longing sweeps you into this story. A cursed love triangle, and a dauntless heroine keep you there. It's a gorgeous take on the old caution to be careful what you wish for, as rich as Addie’s favourite black coffee. An enchanted midnight whisper of a novel.
By Lauren Everdell8 months ago in Critique
- Second Place in Mythmaker Challenge
Red Silk Ribbon
The morning the girl became invisible, her mother tied a red silk ribbon to her wrist. The girl said she was only invisible, not lighter than air like a balloon, she wouldn’t drift away. Her mother tied the other end to her own wrist, saying she wasn’t so sure.
By Lauren Everdell9 months ago in Poets
- Top Story - January 2023
RedTop Story - January 2023
Fur on the inch of old, cold coffee is grey. The day breaking in at Bly’s window is grey, and a sleepless night hangs grey from her eyes. Do something. Her thoughts are grey. Clean. Start with the vacuum, but the bag is full. So empty it. Bins are full. Empty them. Can’t think where the fresh liners are. Shower. Water runs cold, only a glassy shave of soap left. Scum in the dish is grey. Tiles are grey, cold and grey.
By Lauren Everdellabout a year ago in Fiction
Dear Heart
I’m planting tulips when I hear them. Voices, drifting smoke-like through the trees. Standing, I listen, staring at the bare earth. Thinking of the tulips that, come spring, will press through the dirt to spread white petals for the sun. They’re Swan Wings. Agatha’s favourite.
By Lauren Everdell2 years ago in Horror
- Top Story - September 2022
TimberlineTop Story - September 2022
The silence is absolute, as if time never began here and never will. How can I describe it? As if a wall of glass has been placed by the great hand of a God in the midst of the forest, and no living thing may pass. The trees crowd against their limit, aching to reach into the barren land, and their longing embitters them. They grow twisted, their bark black and limbs contorted.
By Lauren Everdell2 years ago in Horror