The Geek's Guide to Lit GroupsThe Geek's Guide to Lit Groups Links:More Like This
Groups with names beginning with A - H
Groups with names beginning with I - S
Groups with names beginning with S - Z
The Geek's Guide to Inactive Groups
OMG it's DONE
What's done?! IT'S DONE. I have spent days and days and days collecting a list of all the lit groups I could find (1901 groups to be exact!), then I went through each one and moved all the groups that had no discernible activity in the past 12 months to the Inactive Groups list (see links above). Then with
vlog of the bodily apocalypseand this: the bone of the wind. the tiny little god that you squirreled away into your throat when no one was looking. you, an artist, not better than anyone else because of it, with thorns in your sides. aren't those the ones you were given for christmas? i thought they looked familiar. i thought this mountain looked a lot like the back yard. if you don't share this poem then a dead girl will appear in your bathroom tonight. you should make friends with her. you should tell her your name. you should tell her that you know the wind is going numb and boneless and you know, you know that the curve of yourself is a real thing, but you're scared. maybe she'll tell you not to be. maybe she'll tell you she loves you, she always loved you, it's going to be okay. maybe she'll rip your throat out and take that tiny little god in reverent hands and say, you should have just settled for less.More Like This
and you'll say what's less? my body has a footnote attached to it. not what you're expecting. not comfort
Yes Virginia, There is an Infidelity ClauseBy myself and slightly drunk on hill whiskey,More Like This
I slither through the meadows of your memory,
and imagine you as a spore on the breeze.
Quickly sober, my limbs acclimate to the truth, with
or without me. Knowing that somewhere, not far enough away,
you are spread over the pages of another man’s story.
Maybe I’m the chicken hawk floating over,
forced to look for home while watching a
calloused pair of hands explore the body I picked clean.
Birds of prey are born to mistake the tang of carrion
for the nostalgia of flesh. And like Winter told Wolfe,
“you can’t go home again”, but you still have to try.
Maybe I’m the one who has wasted their life.
Most of my memories are bootlegged scenes:
the smell of a solar eclipse, hot breath and sticky sheets,
blood dripping from my lips and pooling in her navel,
moths drowning in plastic cups while I crash my car in the rain.
(At the very least, it’s nothing sexual)
The taste of flesh fills my mouth. I pretend
Hex the UnknownAlfred and Briony were both part of the Witches’ Council.More Like This
In the Town Planning section.
“Good morning, young Briony!” said Alfred, as they rendezvoused in the park for the first job of the day. “Isn’t it lovely weather?”
Briony glowered at him. “Can we just get on with it?”
“Gracious, what enthusiasm!” teased Alfred, but he produced the list and checked the first item. “Right. We need to move the swings, five yards to the left.”
He engaged the failsafe spell, and nodded to Briony.
Briony sighed. “Oh, great mage. How do we move the swings five yards to the left?”
Alfred rapidly wrote down some calculations. Non-witches often assumed spells involved archaic English, or Latin, but of course magic is all mathematics.
There was a puff of smoke, and then the swings were in their new position.
Briony waved the smoke away, coughing. “Is that absolutely necessary?”
“No, to be honest,” sai
A Saga of CerealLet us sing of Albert Braithwaite and his quest! His voyage to the supermarket! His mission to buy cornflakes!More Like This
And so he approached the supermarket and gained entrance.
Everywhere there were temptations that sang to him. But his wisdom was strong. Do not look directly at the showy sirens who would take your gold. Rather look down towards the own brand items. For they are better value.
He travelled on.
In his path were clusters of creatures with tongues to talk, but neither eyes nor ears to perceive him. His many requests of “Excuse me, please. I’d quite like to get through” went unheeded.
Temporarily defeated, he retreated and found another way through the maze.
But the glamour was becoming stronger. He felt his reason starting to leave him. Taking shelter by the cheese and onion crisps, he produced pen and ink and captured the words as they floated from his mind.
And lo! Albert strode forward, looking neither to the left or right, but keeping his path straight and tr