Fatal Serendipity
Bio
Fatal Serendipity writes flash, micro, speculative and literary fiction, and poetry. Their work explores memory, impermanence, and the quiet fractures between grief, silence, connection and change. They linger in liminal spaces and moments.
Stories (86)
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Reconstruction #9. Content Warning.
Morning fills the warehouse studio much like clay packs beneath fingernails. Skylights allow in a cold, steady light that rests on unfinished heads. Zora moves through them with the calm precision of a carpenter, wire clippers held in her palm, her black smock marked with gray. Each frame stands upright on a metal spine, vertebrae fused the previous day. She adjusts the alignment, shifts a jaw, angles a cheekbone slightly to the left. The faces around her show no sign of life, but she handles each part as if breath already stirs beneath the surface. She listens to the tension of plaster pressed to steel, to the faint creak of a collarbone when she adds weight. A radio murmurs from the loft above the office.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Midnight Affairs
"Let me tell you about my day," you type in the subject line. You woke up before Dan, as you always do. You moved quietly, taking great care not to stir him. It’s as if your presence is a nuisance. You make coffee and sip it alone while drafting an email to Midnight. Dan wouldn’t understand, and you’re not sure he’d even care at this point.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Jonah Before the Whale. Content Warning.
The boy known as Jonah wasn't born with that name; he discovered it in a small motel Bible hidden in the laundry chute at the halfway house. The pages were thin enough to roll smokes. When he first read about the man swallowed whole, he laughed because being devoured felt more genuine than being saved.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Paper Sky
The river didn’t even touch her knees. She lay in the cold for a while, pretending to be dead, because it felt worse to explain. The dog barked from the shoreline. The boy, maybe sixteen, shouted something that didn’t matter. When the EMTs lifted her onto the gurney, she finally spoke. She asked for her notebook.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
To Appear Untouched
By the time Gabriel and Avery walked through the door, Jules had already erased the evidence she had slept there. The sheets were pulled tight, the pillows stacked without crease, the faint warmth of her body traded for a starch-cold smoothness. In the kitchen the counter gleamed, though she remembered the knife dropping to the surface as she buttered toast in the half-dark. The mug she had used was wrapped in a grocery bag and tucked beneath the driver’s seat of her car, still damp at the rim. She let them step inside the house she had already slept in, eaten in, and arranged again to look untouched.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Interval
Audrey lay in the bath with her knees drawn to her chest, water grazing the underside of her chin. Evening had settled. The room had fallen into a tender hush, the only illumination coming from the streetlights that filtered through the blinds, cutting her pale skin into latticework. Her breath suspended just beneath the surface, carefully disciplined, steadily reined. Every inhale pulled in quiet resolve. Every exhale dared her to sink lower.
By Fatal Serendipity6 months ago in Fiction
Gravity
Feminine energy isn’t exhausting because it’s weak. It’s exhausting because it doesn’t get to rest. It’s the presence that notices, the proximity that intervenes, the quiet gravity that keeps things from falling apart when no one else is around to name the damage.
By Fatal Serendipity6 months ago in Humans
