Jessica Gleason Archives - Black Hare Press

The Frenzy

December 1, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by Jessica Gleason

Candace, using her neon polished nails, picked a cornflake-looking scab from her sallow arm. The black wound beneath smelled of rotten fruit, sweet and rancid. She dug a finger into the gaping hole and revelled in the pain it brought.

Coughing, she wiped blood and spittle from her mouth, and laughed as another of her loose, rotted teeth fell free from her angry gums. She rolled the tooth around in her mouth, enjoying its jagged surfaces, and then swallowed it for fun.

Six days ago she’d have been repulsed by such an action, but today she felt feral and free.

Jessica Gleason

Jessica Gleason writes horror, sacrificing sleep to expel unkind monsters from her aching head.

Ending the Sibling Rivalry

May 25, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by Jessica Gleason

As the bilge stilled, rancid water backing up into the hull, Stabby Scoop smiled. She’d staved across the galley unnoticed, sneaking deep into the ship’s belly to despatch the bilge workers, hoping to sink her older sister’s ship.

“Did ye hear the cannons last night?” she’d ask passersby, attempting small talk as a suspicion averting tactic.

Lower and lower still, the ship descended to the watery depths. Imperceptible to the naked eye, but more pressing as each moment ticked by.

Stabby Scoop looked on, her vessel a safe distance away, laughing at her sister’s end, finally becoming the favourite child.

Jessica Gleason

Jessica Gleason is a Hawaiian-Italian writer, reader, professor, and an all-around weirdo. Gleason has been a college English professor since 2008, is a painter of horror creatures, and has mastered the Song of Time on her ocarina. For daily updates, please follow her on Instagram.

Instagram: @j.g.writes

YEAR FIVE

January 11, 2020/by Black Hare Press

Tag Archive for: Jessica Gleason

Candace, using her neon polished nails, picked a cornflake-looking scab from her sallow arm. The black wound beneath smelled of rotten fruit, sweet and rancid. She dug a finger into the gaping hole and revelled in the pain it brought.

Coughing, she wiped blood and spittle from her mouth, and laughed as another of her loose, rotted teeth fell free from her angry gums. She rolled the tooth around in her mouth, enjoying its jagged surfaces, and then swallowed it for fun.

Six days ago she’d have been repulsed by such an action, but today she felt feral and free.

As the bilge stilled, rancid water backing up into the hull, Stabby Scoop smiled. She’d staved across the galley unnoticed, sneaking deep into the ship’s belly to despatch the bilge workers, hoping to sink her older sister’s ship.

“Did ye hear the cannons last night?” she’d ask passersby, attempting small talk as a suspicion averting tactic.

Lower and lower still, the ship descended to the watery depths. Imperceptible to the naked eye, but more pressing as each moment ticked by.

Stabby Scoop looked on, her vessel a safe distance away, laughing at her sister’s end, finally becoming the favourite child.