Harper Lewis
Bio
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction might have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Achievements (9)
Stories (180)
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Southern Goodbye . Honorable Mention in The Sound of First Frost Challenge.
It slinks in slowly down here in God's country, that first frost. Southern seasons change softly, autumn and summer embrace like lovers, and then autumn does the goodbye ritual with the sun’s warmth:
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Poets
Saint Nobody
One night while I was in graduate school at the College of Charleston, I was hanging out with some friends from home who had also relocated to Charleston. We were at Brad and Alicia’s on James Island. Alicia and I took Geology together in undergrad, and I used to work at the jazz club next door to Brad’s bar. Fio and I had daughters around the same age, and they had attended a church day school together as toddlers. I had known her husband, Patrick for quite some time, and I hated her ex-husband, Todd, almost as much as she did, for different reasons.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Writers
Football Friday Night. Content Warning.
It was one of those magical southern nights in October, and all of the teenagers in town were drunk on autumn and youth. There would be a party after the football game, and youthful concupiscence would be satisfied before the moon set in the morning sky. In anticipation of this, the boys were dousing themselves in Polo and Drakkar Noir while the girls teased their bangs into ski slopes and lacquered them above their heavily mascaraed eyes lined with kohl and painted hot pink stripes on their cheekbones. Def Leppard and Whitesnake blasted from boomboxes perched on dressers and lingerie chests. Pliers were used to zip jeans, and Marlboro Lights were smuggled out of sock drawers and into handbags while condoms pressed their circular imprint into dollar bills in wallets in back pockets.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Fiction
Laundry
The sun was about halfway down the afternoon sky, and the late-summer mugginess was nearly visible. The vague hum of suburban noise lingered here and there on this hazy late July day. Susan pointed the nozzle of the hose at a withering hydrangea, fuming, absolutely certain that something was going on with Sam and Lila. She nearly tripped over the cedar stump when she put the hose back. She and Sam had the tree cut when they bought the house; it had been almost completely choked with wisteria and was a threat to the house. Susan had been more upset about losing the wisteria than the tree. The purple blossoms looked like grapes to her, so pretty in the spring sky.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Fiction
