vitamin k: short story

Yesterday I got the good word that another story of mine was accepted for publication in the Meniscus Literary Journal of Australia. this is the 3rd little neurotic bundle of emotion ive gotten published this year and I feel I am just getting started with short story form. https://duotrope.com/magazine/meniscus-literary-journal-16726

#katyamills

Wednesday, 28 September 2022

the best

she was worrying about whether or not he would make a good father especially given that it wasn't his son. she thought he was the right type because he talked well like someone who was educated and he was. he had a degree. he could get all kinds of jobs and make them all kinds of money so she wouldn't have to bend over backward sewing buttons on thrift store clothes before walking the kid to school. yes, she thought, he could become a classic sorta breadwinner if it weren't for that other thing in the way right now. but they was young, he was young and still needed some encouragement in the right direction. she could provide it but she hadn't and she better start soon. but it was hard because when he got home from work he was usually pretty keyed up and wanted to relax. and she had the prescription pills and felt bad or like she wanted to help and gave him one he washed down with a beer to relax. what harm? it's not like one turned into two or two into three. not with him. maybe her. god she was pregnant and if the daddy was who she thought it was, he was no good. she didn't even want to know because his knowing might mean he might want to get involved in all the wrong ways. file for custody just because he hated her guts and didn't want her happy? with child. no. she didn't want to know. best thing for her. best thing for the baby. move on and get with a good kind of guy who could really be supportive and fuck the rest. if she couldn't find one of those, i mean, if he wasn't the one either, then hell, she could just raise the kid herself. plenty of women did it. even her friend Donna. she was exhausted with rings under her eyes by now, looking like she aged ten years, but still she was doing it. i guess you gotta let go of yourself, your pride, your vanity, and just be the best mom. she knew she could do that. her modeling career never exactly took off and she hated the industry. all the scumbags who offered photoshoots then never paid what they promised they would. demanding the negatives and getting the run around, or worse, being called a bitch a thousand times for asking. fuck all that. she was gonna focus on being the best. #katyamills

Sunday, 31 March 2019

book review

Everlee & Lee by Katya Mills

I am the author of this title, Everlee & Lee, a dark tale revolving around a teenage boy and his sister trying to make sense of a family tragedy. Spirit life haunts the Queen Anne Victorian home in which they live. I use a rather formal (and unreal) type of dialogue on purpose. Temporal shifts accompany the telekinetic and telepathic powers of the characters. One other thing I will confide to you. I wrote this story out of the great and painful heartache I lived with, after my grandfather was essentially murdered by an awful gold digger of a woman he married. My family sued and got the money she stole from him back. Because she had the body cremated the day after his death, a case for murder was never made. Writing this story helped me find my own peace.

View all my reviews

Monday, 4 May 2015

Journal # 05.04.15

The eye of the moon dimmed the stars and scrutinized the city. The empaths locked in battle with the analysts. Politicians raising funds. Water going scarce. Iron lungs. The next generation of pharmaceuticals would cost a pretty penny, and everyone would pay. The kids endlessly vaping. Girls the boys were draping. Prisoners developing patience in lieu of blueprints for escaping. Time would spill us all out on to the streets. The full moon saw through it all. I stepped out upon the back porch, by the light, where the spiders had their feast at night. The clouds were rushing down into the ground without a sound. I locked my gaze upon the moon. I gave it time to reflect. The clouds were rushing through the yards and toward me. Trying to save the land! I whistled and my cats came zipping, out of nowhere, up the stairs and to safety. I stepped inside as the clouds were billowing upwards to the door. I threw the door into the wall, and whisps of vapors curled out the edges and fell solemnly to ground, unseen. I drew the curtains and said my prayers. My energy was churning and yearning for release. I did not dare step out into the night again. No. Something was off about it all. This full moon did not feel right. Dangerous. I hardly trusted myself. Part of me wanted to Keith Moon my apartment. I wanted to tear the devil to shreds! No. Slow down, kid. A voice of reason filled my ears. Outside the moon was searching and searching the city for life. I was better off alone. Turn off the phone. Let go of recent history. Disperse the probing eye of the moon by candlelight. Call upon any spirits near or far. Help me! Help me make it through this night, intact. Then rewarded be, with a key, cut to the lock upon my heart, exact.