Melissa Shekinah
Bio
Melissa Shekinah has been traveling for three years. She's visited all fifty states, parts of Canada, and Mexico. In the first two years of travel, she received a MFA in Creative Writing and completed her second novel of a trilogy.
Stories (13/0)
A. A. G. M. Ch. 2
March 15th, 2012 The commotion came from the bathroom, but the world is a sloshy semi-lucid mess. Noises slur out of my mouth, as my body jolts upright. Functioning drunk is my forte, but the tiny, nearly unrecognizable voice in the back of my mind–which is my sober voice–is desperately telling me not to go into the bathroom.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Fiction
A.A.G.M CH.1.
March 14th, 2012 It’s my bathroom he’s in, but I’m at work, so I didn’t know that yet. Being a bouncer can fucking suck at times. It’s not because I'm a woman, though that doesn’t help. It’s more about the fact that where I work, The Vibe, is a dump.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Fiction
A.A.G.M. Prologue
Prologue April 11, 2011 The earthquake vibrates the bullet train. Greg Sampson, a man who conceals his anger and nervousness just below the skin, tucks his briefcase between his legs and spins his chubby thumbs in circles. In the briefcase is a tiny, plastic container housing his most prized possession—a slice of Albert Einstein’s brain stem cerebellum. Greg acquired this piece from Thomas Harvey, who stole Einstein’s brain, nearly two decades ago.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Fiction
Thank you, Goddard
Readers are hooked on the drug that is poetry, novellas, novels, memoirs, and so on; and writers are the dealers. It's why I started writing; it’s why I become enveloped in a story. It’s why I put myself through college, once again, even though I already had a career path. It’s where parts of humanity reside that are unattainable otherwise. Writing keeps our history. It keeps our sanity. It takes the parts of ourselves that seem tangled and rotten, and breathes life into them. It is, without a doubt, my favorite medium. Writing, and reading, is therapy for the world.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Journal
The Liar, The Bitch, and the Floorboard
The woman was overdosing on heroin. Her, girlfriend, Jenny, was performing spur-of-the-moment satanic rituals at the hands of her drug-infected lover, which she believed would save the junkie from death. I knew she was making all of it up as she went along: the charcoal, the whispering, the restraint of her hysteria, but I kept my mouth shut; I’d never seen anyone die before.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Fiction
Isaiah and the Kitten
Ericka was having a difficult time. Between the heavy, door, the stack of laundry, and the constant thud in her mind from the night before, the word hangover seemed too subtle. In spite of the pulsating pain between her temples, she still pushed herself to make the best of her Sunday and to get things done.
By Melissa Shekinah2 years ago in Fiction
