Maeve Fly

by C.J. Leede

You do not need a moral and noble story to do what you want. You do not first need to be a victim to become a monster.

Their transgression was nothing more than bringing me into this world as something entirely different from and completely incomprehensible to them.

There are no spoilers in life. If you are observant and pragmatic, the endings of all things are easily predictable.

There is a reason so much of Los Angeles feels like the movies, feels like the park. It was by design. People come here for the beautiful artifice of it, for the extreme kitsch that makes life feel somewhat more endurable.

They come to us and tell us of their divorces, their losses, their house foreclosures. As if we are real princesses with the power and magic to absolve their problems. As though a princess, real or not, would give a shit.

Our hands have never touched. I do not wish to touch her now, only to return her to normal. To feel her watching me. To know I am seen, by someone.

“Why is it that every New Yorker comes to LA just to tell everyone how much better New York is?”

everything humans touch is culture. Towns in bumfuck nowhere with populations under a hundred people have culture.