Jennifer Mckinney

Joined March 2023

15 stories

Bio

Writer, editor, coach

Insatiably curious human who enjoys going down a good rabbit hole

Loves all things dark fiction

Stories (15)

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Stabilized Violence
I wasn’t sure which one woke me up after the last city-wide reset—light from the garage’s last bare bulb glinting off bullets, or the crackling hum of electricity of the pock-marked walls. Maybe it was sulfurous smoke left by the guns.
By Jennifer Mckinney2 days ago in Fiction
Grief Bleeds Here
Grief Bleeds Here Platitudes are Unwelcome in This Space “At least it was early.” Grief isn’t meant to be contained by a timeline.
By Jennifer Mckinney7 days ago in Poets
Dormiveglia
"Yes, I used to be in love." "And that is precisely why you are in rehabilitation. Come and sit down." "I'd rather not. Do you think the people out there are as happy as the government led us to believe? They seem beige to me--pleasant, flawless, but devoid somehow. I wonder if they have dreams of their own anymore."
By Jennifer Mckinney11 days ago in Fiction
Winter Days
A single print paused— Noping hoar-crusted ground for Sheltered human lap
By Jennifer Mckinney25 days ago in Poets
Held
Love - The word may hold but a wee wild gist Of the edgy feel you bear - the load, the lift. You know your chum will slam the hard view
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Poets
Palliative
Disinfectant and loitering death clung to the hallway, during my ritualistic walk through the space, Intermittent groans, an occasional whisper, my after-hours footsteps- the primary sounds of this place.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Poets
Pier 21
Sylvia waited, foot tapping against the deck, crumpled telegram scorching her palm. Noises filled the RMS Mauritania—crying infants, heartbreaking gossip, excited chatter. War brides leaving countries of origin, cramped quarters, turbulent Atlantic waters for Canada. For the unknown cost of hasty war-forged unions.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Fiction
Grace/Not Grace
The room plunges into darkness as a tempest drives the rain. Grace shivers by the window, the wind pummeling the pane. She waits for Dennis to light candles. She feels intensely on edge - paralyzed while the curtains shake, and rusted nails turn along the ledge.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Fiction
Terror Keys
She buries her trembling body against a dark wall, hoping the creature hasn’t seen her. Through shadowy hues, she finds her children hanging precariously in another corner.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Fiction
Conjuring
When her cat disappeared, I wasn’t there. Words of hope uttered through a phone - inadequate consolation for my child’s heartbreak.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Fiction
Everything's a Resource
Detritus from disintegrating stockpiles squelched underfoot – sound blending with the drag of her husband’s mutilated leg.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Horror
Alteration
I remember little of the woman who changed my life; her name and appearance are lost to me. But her words, delivered with a magical depth that wove itself into the entire fabric of my being, are forever with me.
By Jennifer Mckinney3 years ago in Humans

Jennifer Mckinney

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(15)

Filter by community

Stabilized Violence

Grief Bleeds Here

Dormiveglia

Winter Days

Held

Palliative

Pier 21

Grace/Not Grace

Terror Keys

Conjuring

Everything's a Resource

Alteration

Stories (15)