If you want to write a dumb little story with a dumb little plot and ridiculously silly characters. No one’s stopping you. Genuinely, no one should be allowed to stop you. Write that dumb story with your whole heart and don’t hold back.
ok the dumb little story turned into a lot of work why does this always happen
with wrinkles enough to hide the world’s secrets and a store of tales enough to fast-talk my way out of any situation, i am surely the most fearsome thing ever seen, ever imagined: a powerful old woman at home with herself. i am baba yaga and this is one of the stories in my basket.
She walked into my office with the swagger of a racecar pit crew boss. From her steel toed boots to her safety glasses, this dame was giving me forklift certified vibes strong enough to shake me loose from my classic depression laced with alcoholism.
her carabiner jingled with keys to four speakeasies, two u-hauls, and a thousand broken hearts.
“She thinks of the seams of a glove, running up and down and over each finger, keeping close the skin that does not belong to the wearer. How a glove covers and fits and restrains the hand. She thinks of the skins in the storeroom, pulled and stretched almost - but not quite - to tearing or breaking point. She thinks of the tools in the workshop, for cutting and shaping, pinning and piercing. She thinks of what must be discarded and stolen from the animal in order to make it useful to a glove-maker: the heart, the bones, the soul, the spirit, the blood, the viscera. A glover will only ever want the skin, the surface, the outer layer. Everything else is useless, an inconvenience, an unnecessary mess. She thinks of the private cruelty behind something as beautiful and perfect as a glove.”
