Alice's Nook

I am currently working as a writer for a magazine called Ethos; an independent student publication that's mission is to elevate the voice of marginalized people who are underrepresented in the media. We just published our winter issue, and in it I wrote about what's it like to be in the home healthcare sector during the opioid crisis. 

Every time you pull out your sword and shield, I lift my shirt a little higher, showing you my soft, round belly. I whisper, "Here, is this where you wanted to stab?"

Tonight is the night that blue light hit my grandparents' hutch. It's quiet and I feel prickly. The cold linoleum is my home, the dolls my audience to my journey. They're immortal, here before me, here after me. The blue and white china hold the answers to my questions, but they smile knowingly and remain silent. The hidden doors are not mine, and I do not enter them. The maps are located at the bottom, with airplanes and forests that collect dust, I loved and cherished them, now they lay forgotten at the bottom of my grandparents' hutch in the blue light. 

   This topic is very controversial in the medical field, and for good reason. I work as a caregiver for the elderly, and I have seen someone try to end their life through refusing to eat. This was approved by a doctor, and it was heartbreaking to watch this man suffer. I am for physician-assisted suicide, but it does not mean that it is a hard topic that is often taboo. 

This is something that I don't usually do, but here's a short story. The prompt was that as I was alone, my friend's animal spoke to me, and I could ask it any question. I'm not sure if I quite fulfilled it, but I thought it was interesting. Hope you enjoy it!

If you laid me down and cut me open

Writing this analysis essay was beyond strenuous. I found myself stuck at a standstill with this paper, picture it, the wide, wide west, a tumbleweed goes by, and it's just this paper and I. Lucky for me, I drew my revolver faster than this paper did and I went a different route than originally planned. In one of my two hour writing frenzies I was completed with the outline, a full eight page, complete with sources and the full MLA nine yards. I was just reading over my completed outline, just a day before it was due, and I supposedly got hacked. One page, two page, disappearing from my laptop screen, being erased word by word. Half of my paper was completely gone. It was so heartbreaking; I was very proud of my writing. Alas, after that I kind of gave up on this paper, but I make many smart points in here. 

Flesh slides off my frame

I am a pure, empty vessel