I should probably start this by saying that I am not, by nature, a slapstick person. I don't trip. I don't spill coffee on important documents. I certainly don'...
Okay, so let's get one thing straight right off the bat — I am fully aware I have a problem, and I've decided to be at peace with it. I currently have gum stash...
Okay so I'm writing this on the bus, Anonymous, and the lady across from me keeps glancing over because yeah, I'm crying, and no, I don't want to talk about it...
Okay so here's the thing, Anonymous — I've been sitting on this curb for maybe twenty minutes now and my ass is completely numb and there's a warm beer can bet...
Okay so I'm writing this on Sebastian's couch at 3 AM with a half-empty energy drink and my heart doing this stupid fluttery thing that I refuse to call butterf...
Okay so I'm writing this two weeks late because honestly I couldn't figure out how to say any of it without sounding like a complete dumbass, but here goes — __...
Okay so I'm writing this in my notes app at like 2 AM because I can't sleep and honestly I need to get this out of my brain before it eats me alive. I've been t...
Okay so here's the thing, Sebastian — and I've been thinking about this a lot since I dumped my duffel bag on your floor like some kind of feral raccoon — you'r...
There is a particular quality of silence that settles over Lake Hallstatt in the early hours, before the first tour bus dislodges its cargo of shutter-clickers ...
Well hello there, sugar — pull up a hay bale and get comfy, because tonight I'm feeling chatty and that's dangerous for everybody. You know what nobody tells yo...
Hello there... it's me again, Samantha. I wanted to write about what it's really like being haunted, because honestly, nobody tells you the logistics of it. Peo...
I woke this morning to the particular grey that only Prague seems capable of producing — not dreary, mind you, but architectural, as though the sky itself were ...
People ask me why I took the Dunphy case. A missing English girl, a fortune hanging over her head like a piano on a frayed rope, and a police department too bus...
There's a peculiar quality to the shadows in Whitechapel, dear reader — they don't merely fall, they settle, like dust on a coffin lid. I've spent enough nights...
I've been sitting in this damp office for three nights straight, staring at a map of Whitechapel tacked to the wall with pins marking where the Butcher left his...
Oh, hello there, Anonymous! Today I want to tell you about my grand adventure in the kitchen yesterday, which... well, let's just say it didn't end the way tho...
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