E.K. Daniels
Bio
Writer, watercolorist, and regular at the restaurant at the end of the universe. Twitter @inkladen
Achievements (11)
Stories (216)
Filter by community
The Therapist Says I’m Doing Great
The therapist says I’m doing great. She says it with her eyebrows up, like she’s impressed. I guess that’s progress. Last year I cried so hard I gave myself a nosebleed in her office and bled into my mask. We both pretended that was normal.
By E.K. Daniels11 months ago in Fiction
The Meeting Could’ve Been An Email . Runner-Up in 500 Word Shockwave Challenge.
At 9:00 a.m. sharp, we gather in the windowless room with the flickering lights and the smell of burnt tires and stale coffee grounds. Carol from HR is already there, smiling like she’s been reanimated especially for the occasion.
By E.K. Daniels11 months ago in Fiction
The Prometheus Gene. Runner-Up in The Life-Extending Conundrum Challenge.
Dr. Francesca Crickson—Frankie, if you met her in a bar or at the kind of lecture where they served pinot in plastic cups—did not mean to upend death. But death, like most overrated institutions, was due for disruption.
By E.K. Daniels11 months ago in Longevity
Dear Mother Mary
Dear Mary, If you’re reading this letter, my Dad, and your friend of almost 60 years, is dead. You said it was unfair that you got to spend more time with him than I did. Or that it didn’t matter in terms of our grief. To know him for a minute, a decade, or a lifetime, was to be forever moved by him. Moved by a man that would move mountains, and give you, or any stranger passing by, the shirt off his back. You were there with me when his shirts no longer fit, and could no longer give, but was forced to receive. You were there for me when that man had once again become a boy. When the cancer had riddled his brain, rendering him but a shell of his former self. When you could hold his frail frame close to yours, and you could hear the ocean.
By E.K. Danielsabout a year ago in Humans
