shallon gregerson
Bio
I conspire, create and love making my mind think
Stories (46)
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The Sixth Seed
No one remembers who counted the seeds. They remember the number, of course. They always remember the number. Six. Sometimes four, sometimes seven, depending on who is telling it and how much time has passed since hunger became allegory. But the counting itself—the moment when a mouth closed, when sweetness broke, when something irrevocable happened—that part is never given a witness.
By shallon gregersonabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
The Angle We Stand On
The first time I saw the crack in the sky, I was late for a date. It hung above the intersection like a seam someone forgot to finish stitching. A thin, silver tear running vertically through the blue. Cars drove under it. People crossed the street without looking up. A man argued into his phone about insurance deductibles. The world continued with the stubborn confidence of a place that had agreed not to notice.
By shallon gregerson6 days ago in Fiction
Localized Levitation
It was Monday morning, Charlie wakes up six inches above his mattress. He blinks at the ceiling, waiting for the rest of him to settle. It doesn’t. His blanket floats beneath him like a politely folded cloud. His arms drift when he moves them, slow and syrupy.
By shallon gregerson6 days ago in Fiction
Beige with approved phrases. AI-Generated.
The call center is painted in optimistic colors. Not bright enough to be cheerful, not soft enough to be calm. The walls are a kind of beige that suggests coffee with too much creamer. Someone chose it after a meeting, after a vote, after a PowerPoint about productivity and mood. The color is meant to make people steady. The color is meant to make people stay.
By shallon gregerson6 days ago in Humans
Dragon in the Basement. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The dragon was chained in the basement of a failing marriage. No one else knew that. To the city inspector, the building was just another condemned brownstone with bad wiring and a mold problem. To the neighbors, it was the place where the couple on the second floor fought at night, their voices leaking through the radiator pipes like steam.
By shallon gregerson6 days ago in Fiction
