Author: Rachel E. Bledsoe

Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals: Oprah’s Favorite Things

People like to use the email address I have provided on this page to ask one question: “Will I review their shit?” It says upfront I don’t write reviews. The reason my email address is public is because I want a literary agent. If you’re a literary agent, I want YOU for Christmas. You can email me at the address…

Burn The Bed

I want to burn my bed. Yes, the entire white queen sized bed. All of it. Poof. Gasoline. Flames. I’d smile. I’d grin. I’d rejoice at watching THAT bed burn. Alas, I’m not strong enough to drag it downstairs. The headboard is heavy. The mattress is awkward. The box spring won’t bend. There are stairs. I certainly can’t set it…

A Thousand Little Cuts

Netflix is the only noise breaking through the silent room. The man on the Netflix original series, Mindhunter, says the words: “Marriage is a thousand little cuts.”  I speak out. I agree with him. Bloodletting love where we go into a relationship completely naive and our eyes are closed. We wear a veil for a reason, because the truth isn’t…

And She Wrote On…

She stopped writing. No rhyme. No real reason. She stopped, because it’s the one thing she could control; those words. Her legs are shaking, they tremble with unknown fear. The leaves are crunching as a junkie coughs and walks down the alley next to her house. Let. It. Go. It’s all dying away….           The dead season is…

15 Years His Wife: The End

I’ve danced long enough with metaphors and hints. I circled and paced, eating my hands bloody. The truth is not beautiful and I will not give you splendid adjectives along with breathtaking scenery tonight. My time has come. Let me out of this cage, I rage. You’ve read the good. The facade, and as I type these words I realize…

West Virginia Woman

The real ones are rare. Being born on the land doesn’t guarantee you will grow into a true West Virginian woman. Soft and callous creatures, tempting fate and sustaining on old dreams passed down from our great grandmothers. The Cherokee bloodline combined somewhere with the Irish heritage. The dreams are haunting, terrifying, and true. She is the truth holding light…

America The Salty

I’m feeling salty today. Last night I said these words: “It says to avoid nuclear fallout, we’d have to build another room under our basement. Have enough sealed food. At least enough to last until we can be screened for radiation.” Maybe I overanalyze situations. Maybe I like to be prepared. Maybe I don’t want to spend any unnecessary time…

Happy Anniversary?

Wake up to the Facebook reminder. Six years of saying, “I love you. Happy Wedding Day Anniversary! You are my Everlong.” I even made a wedding video a few years back featuring all the songs played during our wedding ceremony. I included pictures and love quotes. I watched it this morning on the Facebook. Then I said, “Fuck you, Facebook.…

Just A Girl

I’m the girl…  The one you think is pretty enough to take home to meet your mother, until you realize I’m a complete mess. And your mother is going to hate me for one of two reasons. The first perception and reason is she’ll judge the picture in front of her. She’ll think my life has been buckets of lemonade…

Fiddle Away, Nero.

It has been written how Rome burned for six days and seven nights. Rumors ran rampant how the Emperor Nero may have actually started the great fire in order to build back the Rome he wanted. Better. Bigger. More grandiose. Build a republic only he would be fit to rule.  Although there are accounts Nero did offer relief to his…

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