Molly Leasure

“Just Me” by Molly Leasure

“I can’t sleep.” “And you think I can?” Two claps to the cheeks, and I’m almost fully awake again. The pounding music shakes the floor under our feet, reminding me why I’m still existing at this hour. “Have you decided which one of us is gonna talk to them?” “Not me,” my roommate mumbles, sliding back under the sheets. “I just got comfortable.” “You—” I cut the words before I say them, aware of how harsh I can be on a sleepless night. “Fine. But if you were gonna make me do it, you should’ve told me earlier in the night. I would’ve don...

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“Oarmen's Hollow” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #93

(Author's note: as always in my writing, this is a weird one. Take care, as it does have darker themes.)An inky alley leads to the grime-ridden walls of an old pub. The door that promises the stench of rot within is offset, weathered by rain and age. But the signage is almost modern, lit by neon lights that blink the words “Oarmen’s Hollow.” Beneath it, another sign, “open whenever.” But the second sign isn’t fully lit, only the letters “open eve” buzz with life. Evening. On the eve of the day. Eve of the holiday. No one knows what’s meant b...

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“On That Back Road” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #92

“They won’t understand the history,” he rasps over the line. “If something starts happening, they’re not going to understand it.” “It’s not as though the house is filled with ghosts,” I answer. “For anyone else.” His tone softens, pity easing into his words. “But for you, they’re in every doorway, every room, every corner. And you want to walk back in there on your own? Are you sure you don’t need me with you?” “I’m sure. I don’t need a bodyguard scaring them away,” I joke, but it doesn't bring any laughter forward—from either of us. He c...

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“Asking to Die” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #70

(Author's note: this is another experimental piece. Determine the killer. If you want to add your answer to the comments, feel free!)That practiced smile. It’s pinned to her cheeks, peeled back over her teeth, tightened into place. And as fleeting as she’d like it to be, it’s stuck—for hours, for days. This entire week will see glimpses of it until her lips crease. Because she hates the holidays.And she hates me.“Backroom.” Mother gestures behind her. Fold me into the furthest corner.“Right.” I return that smile. It glides over my ...

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“Jedendrum Baltimore” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #69

(Genre: Space Western/Space Opera)“Vent her.”“No, I’m not lettin’ ya.”“Oh? What gun’s ya totin’ then, boy?” His marred cheeks crease with resentment. He likely wishes I was never born. After all, it was just happenstance I was conceived. No serendipity about it. Just a drunken thief and a concubine treading the river. Then me; a bundle of fishnet. I’m the only thing this man’s caught in years. If only I were more akin to bubonics—or, the like.“I—”“—None. Kid’s playin’ a fit and expectin’ us to care.” Laughter churns from the crew. Perdin. Ma...

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“The Letter Man” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #68

Atkin,An accident. A mistake. I struggle to find the difference. And so, what does that make an accidental mistake? Is it redundant, or does it take on a new meaning? As I'm about to give you a chance to discern for yourself… I suppose I'll leave it to you. Because by accidental mistake,I love you.A bent elder unfolds the letter, flattens it to a journal page, and then paper clips it in place. Below it, he writes:Number forty-two, to Atkin Arthur. Too Shakespearean for him to take notice.With the letter stowed, he reaches for another en...

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“Stitching Pinned Marrow” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #68

(Author's note: this piece is experimental. Enjoy it as a story-length poem.)No one loves Caeshin Blithe more than I do. “Sunrise to sunset, or suh they say.”“For forever, not just a day."From sunrise to sunset, my love will never dwindle. But in the darkness of night, That’s when it’s most brittle.And so I became Mrs. Caeshin Blithe.Enjoying hollow love and midnight’s alone.It’s not much of a life.If only that naive little girl had known.“Nice, eh? The oranges, the reds.”“Certainly starts the morning ri—” “—Reminds me uh...

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“Rouge” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #67

From a nozzle, black paint eases along the curves of a fear-stricken Marilyn Monroe apparent. Blonde curls lick her earlobes, framing classic gold earrings. Rouge highlights her widened, luscious lips. And pristine eyebrows lay stark against her broad forehead. But that’s where the similarities end. She’s her own woman, dressed to the nines in anguish.Levi shakes another can. Blue this time. His fingers splay on the unmarked metal as he leans in to meet her eyes. “Hey beautiful,” he whispers, laying down an outline in her massive pupils. “Ho...

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“Aichen't Do This” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #66

Click.“That oughta do it. Nervous?”“More than you can guess,” Aichen admits. He tugs on the restraints at his wrists. “These have to be so tight?”“Part of the safety protocol.” The computerized voice is warm, almost human. It’s been programmed with perfect attention to colloquial speech, but it still lacks a proper bedside manner. The questions it asks are never followed up. Is he nervous? Yes. No. It doesn’t matter how he answers.“So if I win—” he begins.“—I’m not programmed with that information.” Two beady eyes blink behind a flat screen,...

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“The Dead in Denver” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #65

“Star’s look nice, huh?” Denver’s eyes wander to Lea’s in a silent plea. Her head perks to the noise, but she barely acknowledges him. Gripping the fabric of his jeans on both knees, he lowers his gaze. That was the last attempt he had in him. Now there’s just silence clinging to the stale tension separating them.Run.He furrows his brow. For a long time, the voices were only whispers. Why now?Run.She’ll kill you.Biting down on his bottom lip, Denver glares across the yard—the graveyard. This was Lea’s idea. She wanted to see their siste...

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“I Need Sheep” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #65

Tap.Refresh.Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve been waiting for a reply since April and it’s damn near Halloween. I draw both hands down my face, contemplating social murder—of myself. Right, that’s suicide. Maybe that’s the reason they haven’t accepted my piece. I’ve tarred myself, waiting for them to add the feathers. And why would they want to be complicit in my murd—suicide.I need sheep.Sleep.Easing around towards the window, I stare into Harry’s (my once rancid rat of a neighbor’s) yard unabashed. Harry’s long since departed, rest his gr...

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“Drowned in Black” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #64

In 1862, James sailed the James blue†. Aboard the CSS Jamestown, James Plumb and his crew voyaged with six others past the Union’s view. They captured three merchant vessels, turning the flags over with blatant heckles. They towed them to Norfolk, victory now built within the framework—a preemptive claim shared by the Confederate fame.At the end of April, James met his first peril. Men fought on the frontline and died line by line.In early May, James saw an awful display. He vowed to bring his brothers home to Richmond, but their deaths happ...

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“the Ghoths” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #64

“Tourists,” I grit the words between puffs of smoke. Even though it’s pitch black out, there’s a family giggling and taking pictures next to the statue in the park. Here I thought we’d be alone.“You’re a tourist,” Ricky reminds me, laughing. I lean in through the driver’s window, stretching the seams of my jacket, and glare at him. He ignores me, the way he always does, too focused on the babe lounging in the back seat. His words, not mine. To me, she’s always just been Gretch. Gretch the grouch. It’s the kind of nickname only I ca...

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“Veiled in Red” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #63

Harriet Plumb had thirteen brothers, three of which sold her soul to the devil. Four ailed from scarlet fever. And five perished in the Civil War. Just one survived Richmond unscathed—then happened upon a wayward siren. Whether or not he remains is a tale for another time. For you see, our heroine endured a most disagreeable journey. And that’s where we should be.~As ugly a crumb as dear Harriet was, there was but one demon who adored her. A demon whose feelings she did not requite. It may have been Pitheous’s metaphysical form or his s...

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“Adorned in Blue” by Molly Leasure

Submitted to Contest #63

Temperance Blue of Blue to Blue was a blue woman. Not literally blue, no, just grim. Her cropped bob was rigid, holding still even in the most torrential storm. A stark contrast to her skeletal frame, which held similar strength against winds that, say, an umbrella might--one donning a floor-length evening gown.Our Gothic temptress had eyes that reveled in voyeurism. Her fixated gaze could devour a full room, giving her an edge in people-watching. And in business. The business she adored, the business her patrons held above all else, the bus...

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