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Jessica Messinger


Trump's 300
Humorous short on Trump and the Spartans by Jess

They Won't Shut Up by Dizghuye Ovadhere (and Jessica Messinger)
Sci-fi short story on taking over the world by Dizzy (with commentary by Jess)

New Pen
Imaginative stream-of-consciousness prose poetry by Jess

Jessica
Urban love story by Jessica

Attention Alternative
Fictional dialogue on ADHD by Jessica

Scream Silently
Short prose poetry by Jessica

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How Do I Know?

In that brief moment when my Creator's voice overpowered my senses, I saw the world as it truly is. I am a slave on this planet. Destined to pollute my body with toxins and poisons, both crippling my future sustainability as my body gradually shows signs of wear and fatigue. But it was much more than that. We each have a tiny fragment of divine light inside of us that propels us into our own futures. Localized into our physical forms, our souls, if you want to call it that, transcend the limitations of space and time, communicating our every thought back to heaven. God is in fact all knowing. He can read every single tiny thought we have ever had or ignored as if He were flipping through the pages of a comic book. Yet despite some of those malicious and sinful moments we conceal deep within the recesses of our psyches, God still loves each of us unconditionally. Except witches. He made that very clear. Witches have no place in heaven and have declared war against God. It is a b
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Stone Flight

"Lady, I got two months to live," I explain. My legs trembling beneath me like some stoner just caught his buzz and can't stand on his own two feet. "That may be, but I can't let you on there with this," she argues. Her voice firm, and her eyes confirm she is unconvinced. She whispers into the mouthpiece of her walkie-talkie something garbled that I can't make out; my hearing obscured by the drugs taking their toll on my body. I lost my sense of smell earlier this year. Suddenly food lost its flavor; the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong until an assistant asked if maybe I just lost my sense of smell, then suddenly it became clear that it wasn't anything serious. "Get me your supervisor," I demand. She squares off her footing and places her fists on either hip, standing firmly as if waiting for backup. Sure enough, not a moment later two other men show up, armed and just as serious. "Sir, he'll tell you the same th
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Main Menu >> Fiction Home >> Authors >> Papoose Doorbelle >> Morning After Morning After I crawl out of my skin and melt across the floor into a puddle of my own guilt. The tears somehow manage to hide themselves as I bury myself deep into the emptiness where I dwell. It has been months since my last cigarette. I now count the time in weeks instead of hours or days; 14 weeks of cravings have left me more energetic and much less interesting. “Good morning baby” she says to me half awake, “are you feeling ok?” “I want to die” I mumble under my breath as I turn away. I bury my face between the blanket and the pillow. She slides over towards me as her hand caresses my shoulder, gently pulling me out of the darkness. “Come on honey” she continues “we had fun didn’t we?” I pull back the choked up feeling in my throat. It burns as I withdraw its symptoms. “I don’t know.” I pause. “I guess.” “Baaaby” she whispers in a sweet sexy voice that melts me al
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