Harper Lewis
Bio
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction might have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Achievements (10)
Stories (159)
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Brokedown Shakedown . Content Warning.
The American system is broken, badly. Our checks and balances have been hijacked by a madman serial rapist pedophile. Let that part sink in. Then look at his business records. It’s damn near impossible to bankrupt a casino, but he’s done it more than once. Trump Steaks (🤮), Trump Vodka (😵💫), and Trump University (🪦) were all blistering successes, amiright?
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Humans
Jars. Runner-Up in Craft Over Catharsis Challenge.
Jim sat in his favorite rocker, beams of late afternoon sun draped over his lap instead of stabbing him in the eyes like on Billy’s side of the porch. He twirled a lollipop between his fingers, occasionally popping it in his mouth. He’d been doing this since he stopped smoking. The young’uns didn’t remember the cloud of Pall Mall that used to shroud his face as he told his tales. The kids were playing in the yard and under the porch, out of the September heat in the cool sand, sun shining between the shadows of the slats. Presently, a grubby face appeared over Jim’s shoulder. The kids wanted to go down to the creek to play.
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Fiction
Take Off Your Prose!. Content Warning.
Welcome to the Temple of the Profane. I know, right? Whodathunk I’d ever encourage end rhyme? If it’s offensive, I’m okay with it. Grab a pint of Guinness or Jameson’s and don’t tell me “dirty limerick” is redundant. I’m well aware that if it isn’t dirty, it’s not a true limerick. But some people try to ruin a good time with some puritan Pollyanna bullshit every chance they get. I’ve read some clean limericks, and there’s something about them that’s more wrong than an olive in a Bloody Mary or a stalk of celery in a fucking martini. If I can figure out how, I’ll fine anyone who tries to sneak a clean limerick in here, and I’ll press criminal charges if sentimentality enters the equation. It has no place outside of Hallmark cards and movies, and we’re not dumbing down this room.
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Writers
Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Faulkner
When people ask if I like Faulkner or Hemingay, like they’re Maryann and Ginger, it irks me. My answer is yes, and it’s not like, it’s love. And why are you neglecting Steinbeck? I reject the idea that a reader can only read one style and like it. Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Faulkner are my holy trinity, my neapolitan ice cream. At the risk of stating the obvious, Hemingway is vanilla, Steinbeck is strawberry, and Faulkner is chocolate. I love them all.
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Geeks
The Blood of Eve I. Content Warning.
I didn’t want to kill any of them, but I had to so they wouldn’t get hurt. I’ve seen the world and what it can do to people. I’ve seen depravity the likes of which you wouldn’t believe. The things men will do when they’re drunk and high on amphetamines and testosterone if a girl or woman is available. Or nearby and unprotected.
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Horror
Girl Thursday and Johnny-on-the-Spot
I’m always early, and no one ever believes me. Hi, my name is Cassandra, Cassie to my friends, and that’s Johnny, with his trusty toolbox beside me. He gets the credit, I get the blame: Girl Thursday and Johnny-on-the-Spot.
By Harper Lewisabout a month ago in Critique
