The storm lit up the clouds. The dark blue sky turned into a musky light gray. Lightning strikes reached from the left to the right like tree branches. But then another strike would grow out smaller, barely reaching out, after that big moment. That last strike is me.
I used to believe that monsters lived under my bed. They loved scaring me in the dark. “That’s where they stay,” Society told me. “Where they belong.” But Society also ordered me to keep my stomach flat so people would like me. Short hair was for men. Lesbian. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t lift anything … Continue reading Real monsters