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A March of Marys, day twenty
I know I am doing the best thing I can do right now but I feel like a bug trapped under glass. A disgusting insect sealed in a sugary slump to be put on…
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day nineteen
‘Are you really here, Mary,’ the stranger said.
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day eighteen
She tries to subvert the form.
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day seventeen
Like the Pulp song, she wants to live like common people.
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day sixteen
‘Are you ready for me to crash your life.’
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day fifteen
No one was at home and I am pretty sure we were not supposed to be there.
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Alexandra Naughton
A March of Marys, day fourteen
We owned a haunted house. An attraction of sorts, maybe you could call it a tourist trap, but we lived there too.
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Alexandra Naughton
talk about it
talk about it
fiction, poetry, and writing about writing - a newsletter by alexandra naughton
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