The Ragged Journal

Tag: horror stories

  • A Minimalist, #1

    A Minimalist, #1

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    I love a good deal. Sometimes I buy things just because they were on sale. A checkered table cloth… eh, no thanks… but if it’s half-off, now we’re talking!

    I’ve been working on my minimalism. From my podcast, JFM tells me, “Everything is 100% off, if you don’t buy it.” But if only he could see how cute these little figurines on my table are; they came with the table cloth. This purchase satisfies my cravings, until I catch myself doomscrolling on Fartbook or InstaGlam—some peppy, young Spinfluencer telling me I’m just two-clicks away from happiness—and the cycle begins again. Promo code. Add to cart. Checkout. Well that was fun, wasn’t it? Are we happy yet?

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  • Survival, WiP Entry #13

    Survival, WiP Entry #13

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    “Bit of advice,” said the stranger.
    “Stay off the old road, after dark. Not safe these days. I seen plenty o’folkes go up that there thoroughfare… never seen from again. It’s a long ways from here to where yer goin’. And there’s not may kind faces in between.”

    “No shortage of ugliness, out there. I don’t mean to scare ya. It just wouldn’t be right not to tell ya, with that little one there with ya… No telling what might happen…”

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  • Entry #37, A Family Man

    Entry #37, A Family Man

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    Installed a bathtub today, mighty fine work if I do say so myself. Only problem is my family hates it.

    “Eww dad, it’s so old and gross,” my eldest says.
    “Really, honey… with how tight money’s been lately… I don’t know.
    I wish you would have talked to me about it first.”

    Why can’t they just be happy.
    Why can’t they just appreciate that I wanted
    to do something nice for us… for the family.
    It’s not this horrible old thing.
    It’s hope! Comfort.
    Sanctuary.

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