
Harper Lewis
Bio
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Achievements (7)
Stories (127)
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Crushing
I was just a kid when I developed my first crush, but developed is totally the wrong word—crushes don’t develop, they appear, fully-formed and incomprehensible. I still get them, crushes, and I’ve found that I absolutely adore being in crush with someone. My last one hit me a few years ago and hasn’t subsided just yet.
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Writers
Rocks Rock
I’ve been thinking about rocks a lot lately, collecting different specimens of minerals and gems, arranging them in groups. I have favorites: lapis lazuli, moss agate, amethyst, bloodstone, and aquamarine to name a few. Like most English majors, I took the least mathy lab science sequence available to me—geology.
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Writers
Miasma
Jealousy slinks around deserted corners, Slithering through alleys, dropping poisonous pearls of verdigris to sink below the surface and take root, tiny snakes of jade twisting their minute serpentine bodies into every thought sifting through uncomplicated minds,
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Poets
Company’s Coming
“That witch come up right outta that creek there. I seen it with my own eyes. It like to spooked me something fierce, the way she come walking up that riverbank, with fog slipping off her shoulders all slow-like. She had weird eyes, not even a color exactly. They just looked straight through me on up the path, like I wasn’t there atall.” Braxton Hicks hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and elbowed Jim in the ribs. “God’s honest truth.”
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Fiction
Perfect Pot Roast
Everyone says they love pot roast, but most people don’t now how to make a good one. I’m here to help with that. This isn’t technically a recipe, so I’m not giving you a list of ingredients or utensils. If you don’t have a fire pit, you’ll need to visit someone who does to make a proper pot roast.
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Feast
Fiction Workshop Winter Quarter 1998
I had to fight to take the class because I hadn’t completed the prereqs, and it was a 400 level class. I don’t think I knew I was pregnant yet; midterm was in late October, and I got pregnant the Monday after the Fleetwood Mac concert in Atlanta. The two friends I went with were my daughter’s godmothers at her Christening, but we fell out of touch, and neither are part of either of our lives anymore. It was also the Monday before Thanksgiving, which is another story for another day.
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Critique
Snob
I admit it—I’m a snob, but not your everyday, garden variety snob. I don’t give a flying fuck what kind of car you drive, what schools your parents could afford to send you to, how much money you have/make, or what your maternal grandmother’s maiden name was. All of that shit is irrelevant to me.
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Writers












