Confessions of a Pixel and ink-stained wretch

Monday, October 4, 2021

Nightmare Fuel 2021 - Day the Third

Three days of this! Here's a vignette about what you do when you reach an edge of the world.

The world's topology is complicated - it has many, many edges.

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"Come here. You've got to see what I found!"

It's Maddy, of course. She's always the reckless one, the mad one. The one sneaking through neighbor's yards, who found the tree you could climb to hop over to the roof of the school.

You're all out together, in the kind of early fall day you when you can still pretend it's summer. The kind our parents still call "Indian Summer" no matter how many times we tell them not to, then awkwardly joke that it's "Native American Summer" or some other such silliness.

It's Maddy who always gets you all into trouble.

Mike looks skeptical, like he always does. "What is it this time? Are we gonna get in trouble again?" Mike was the last one down from the school roof. The principal caught him and made him spend an hour carrying books to different classrooms. He didn't turn the rest of us in, but he still never forgave Maddy.

"Nothing like that. Look, this'll be great. You've just got to see it. But you have to hurry. It doesn't stay there for long."

You follow, not open for long being a magic phrase. After all, we don't want to miss out on something that isn't there for long, do we?

This adventure leads you on bikes down the busy street and to the sculpture garden behind the tiny art museum our parents drag us to sometimes. Past the lake, to the wide grassy hills nobody ever wanders past. Not because there's anything to stop us, but because there's nothing there. Just well-manicured grass and perfectly straight hedges.

Before long we get there, to a perfectly straight row of hedges with a perfectly round hole through the middle. The sunlight, from straight overhead, leaves the hole perfectly dark. This must be the "it doesn't stay for long" Maddy was talking about. Her eyes are bright.

"It's a gateway. To another world."

"Another world?" Mike looks at the hole. The gateway. He doesn't step closer, doesn't shy away. "What's this other world like?"

"It looks like this one, but EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT." Her eyes are wide, bright. Mike shakes his head. "Except for when you guys talk me into trouble, I LIKE this world. It's where I keep all my stuff."

Maddy shakes her head. "Well, I want to explore."

You find yourself between Mike and Maddy, as he edges back towards the hole and she steps forward.

Maddy walks through the hole and vanishes.

You follow. Darkness washes over you, as the world vanishes for just a moment. Then step out into the light, on the other side of the hedge. Maddy smiles at you. "I knew you'd come. We can't go back through, or we'd end up back in the same world." The back of the hedgerow is less even, less finely cared for. You smell damp earth, something a bit wild. You walk along the hedge together for a bit, her hand in yours. Then you find a thin spot between hedges and slip through, branches tearing at your skin. You walk back along the hedges until you find this world's version of Mike, with this world's version of the bicycles another you and another Maddy had left behind when they went exploring, off to a different world.

Or you don't follow. Maddy gives the two of you a look of disappointment, disappearing into the darkness as she steps through the hole. You and Mike share a look of resignation. Minutes later another world's Maddy appears from a gap in the hedges a ways down. Not a portal, not a tunnel, just a gap. Neither of you stop her from taking your Maddy's bike to ride home in silence, her disappointment hanging in the air between you.

You glance back once, knowing that your choice matters. That now everything is the different.

Or everything is the same.

Sunday, October 3, 2021

Nightmare Fuel 2021 - Day the Second

The Long Way Home

You take the long way home from school, along the backroads. You always told your mother that it was because the noise of the busier street bothers you, and she always pretends to believe you.

The truth is that you don't know who will be home today. Which monster.

The first time was weeks ago. You remember standing out in the yard, kicking a soccer ball against the house. The tall grass of the lawn worn to dirt patches where you stood, twelve yards from the side of the house. You'd paced it, to be sure. Your mother's voice through the kitchen window "You've lost your goddam mind".

You stopped kicking. He'd lost his mind? Was your father a zombie, a shambling undead creature with no thoughts, feeding on brains? You stayed out until darkness had fallen, until you could barely see the ball.

When you finally came in to dinner at the kitchen table (the dining room was only for Sundays or holidays) his mind was indeed gone - he ate with an absent-minded, glassy-eyed stare. Didn't say anything. Spent the last part of the meal scaping a line of crumbs out of the table's central joint with the tiny pocket screwdriver he always carried. He didn't say good night when you excused yourself to bed.

Then there was the time he'd lost his senses. That was worse. His eyes were glassy, he barely picked at his dinner. He must have lost his sense of taste as well.

"Are you going to eat your food or just stare at it?" You almost reflexively answer "I'm eating", but she wasn't looking at you. There was not a word the rest of the meal, but that's what it's like when you someone loses their senses.

So today, you take the long way home. You don't want to see the mind-numbed zombie or the deaf-mute senseless drone.

Your mother is standing outside the front steps as you approach, "You'd better hurry in. Your father's going to lose his head if you make me keep dinner waiting any longer."

Lose ... his head? A real monster this time, all shoulders and body and appetite and anger? Arms even longer, able to reach you from even farther? What was the head but the wobbly bit on the top? The place he kept his mind and senses? Without his head, it's just the monster.

You hear heavy steps down the stairs. You see his feet, the long arms, the mouth. It's hard to know without a face, but he looks angry.

Resigned to your fate, you step inside.

If you get another chance, you'll never take the long way again.

Saturday, October 2, 2021

Nightmare Fuel 2021 , Day the First

Good morning friends, if anyone is still here.

These pages have remained empty for a long time, and I skipped this whole exercise last year as pandemic brain kind of melted me. The game is the same - one piece of flash fiction per day, written one day late in the early morning. Just little sketches here to get the brain moving and put us in the October mood.

Project is courtesy of Andrea Trask, sometimes known as Bliss Morgan. If you want to play along, prompts are here on the Tumblr. She also has a Patreon for those who wish to patreonise her.

Now, on with it.

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There are whispers of a place, isolated but not too isolated, where the anonymous acolyte of worth holds a book. If you find him - and it isn't as hard as one would think - you'll be shown a single page.

On it is be written the greatest day of your life. The only price is that you need to look, and you'll always carry that knowledge that on one shining day - perhaps in the future, perhaps lost in your past - you had your best moment. And none before or since would measure up.

Nobody ever asks what "greatest" means. Not that the acolytes would ever tell.

I arrive on a chill October day, accompanied by a youth. They laugh nervously as we travel the tree-lined ghost-walk to the weathered stone temple of worth. "You're almost fifty. Whatever your time is, it's in the past. Why bother?"

I smile. "Maybe I just need a reminder. But we're here for you."

We step in. The acolyte is where we'd been told, covered in heavy robes. Impossible to tell who it was, male or female. They were holding a black-leatherbound book, as worn with the ravages of time as the building around us. They look first at the youth, beckon with one crooked finger. He steps forward, the book is held up to him and opened.

"October 31, 2036. You tell the truth to yourself." That's how it was written - always in the present tense, as if it is always unfolding. Right now.

2036. Fifteen years from now.

The youth steps back. "but.. I never lie for myself. It'll take fifteen years? For just that?"

The figure is silent. It always was.

I stepped forward to complete the ritual, but I already know.

"November 27, 2001. You go where you need to be."

The youth laughs, again nervously. "That's it? You went where you need to go twenty years ago? Some life, eh? You must be disappointed. What's left to live for?"

I barely hear. Because it's the date I knew. I remember the shoes I was wearing, the brown rockports with the frayed lace on one side, because I was tying them when I got the phone call. She was scared. She didn't think the doctors were paying her enough attention. She knew it was time for work, but she needed me.

I remembered she was wearing her glasses because I was left clutching them as a nurse ushered me away from the others who'd answered my calls for help.

The same nurse - or maybe a different one - asks me if she was wearing a watch. I say I don't know, and then she hands it to me. Stupidly, absurdly, I'll always wonder why she asked that.

Then I'm standing in a tiny, anonymous office built for painful conversations, staring at that watch, not even seeing what time it showed, as I'm handed a phone. "Do you need to call her family? Anyone?" I hold the receiver in my hand for a long time before I realize that I don't know what I'd even say to them. I set it down and say something. I don't remember what.

The rest is a blur from of fear, anger, frustration. The fear fades slowly over the next days, weeks, months. The sense of "not out of the woods" and "could happen again" that lingered like the scent of something long departed until, without fanfare, it is gone. Almost. There will be reminders later, over the years. Nothing is ever over.

I smile at the youth. "What I have to live for is the same reason I skipped work that day. It could have been the worst day of my life. It WAS one of the worst days. But also the greatest. I know if given the choice, you'd do the same"

We leave that place, having learned nothing.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Nightmare Fuel 2019, Day the Sixth - Batteries

Still two days behind, but that's better than three days behind.

Perchance I'll catch up soon.

Other things I love? Witches and bad decisions. Image from the BotanyShitPosts Tumblr

Batteries

He had that look in his eyes. The look that says he has an idea, a brilliant idea. The look that says he can’t believe that he didn’t think of it before, but he knows exactly why none of the rest of us did.

We are, after all, not nearly as smart as he is.

It wasn’t the look that hooked you; you’ve seen that look lots of times. It was the closet door. The one in the back of his apartment, the one with the steel hasp and the shiny steel padlock. The one you’ve never seen open, the one he’d only smile about if you asked one of those nights you slept over with him.

That door.

Was open.

Not only that, it seemed to be … glowing. That’s impossible. Who puts a light in a closet? Unless he’s growing weed in there, but there’d be no need to keep THAT a secret from you.

“This’ll be great.” You took a seat on the bed as he paced the short length of the bedroom, your eyes constantly drawn to that open door. He was all jangly limbs and frenetic energy and piercing blue eyes, dressed in a threadbare band-logo T-shirt and a pair of hundred-dollar jeans. Yeah, Mike was Mike and this was shaping up to be a classic Mike type of evening.

“Look, most of this happened before I met you and I didn’t know if it was real or it would work, but couple years ago I got a real apprenticeship with a real witch.”

The hinges on your jaw loosen as you try to formulate a response. “A… witch?” That was a response. You feel dumb, the way he always makes you feel dumb. One of these days you’ll be quick enough to keep up with him. Today was not the day.

“Yeah, they’re still around. They mostly only take other women, but, well, you have to know how to talk to them. About balance and harmony and all that. And find the right one who’se old enough and alone enough and fears the things she knows will die with her if she can’t pass them on. It takes some looking, but you know me. I’ve always been good at looking. And good looking.”

You smile weakly. The joke may be wearing thin, but part of you will always remember the awkward confidence with which he made it the first time. There’s an eager little boy in there somewhere, one both proud of himself and eager to please and quick as lightning. You fell in love with that little boy, even if the same old jokes are starting to run thin.

And now, the moment .He steps in to the closet, comes out with several two-liter bottles, with some kind of plant growing in each. Deep emerald-green leaves, rich brown roots. Strange sigils are etched onto each bottlecap in what appears to be black sharpie. “Watch this!” he says, then mutters a few words under his breath. The air in the apartment suddenly feels clearer, healthier. Even a bit brighter. Certainly cooler and less humid. “See? Environmental control. Temperature, humidity, spirit. We’ve been cooling our air with clunky nineteenth century technology for too long, compressing gasses and letting them decompress. IT’s time to move to the future!”

You are genuinely amazed, your head feels clearer. Clear enough that something here seems wrong. “What did your witch say about this plan?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “You know witches. Always playing it safe. Too meddlesome. To big a risk. Too harmful.”

As he talks the bottleplant fades before your eyes, from a lush green to a muted tan. He sees your looking. “They always do that, but it’s fine. We can always recharge them, take a little from the world outside. Even from the ocean. Nobody’ll miss it.”

“Nobody?” You stand up and look him in the eye. “You sure about that?”

He smiles, nods equally. “Nobody. Just take a little energy, release a bit of psychic waste. Maybe into the ocean. What’s a nightmare or two to a fish? And we’ll all get to be happy and comfortable.” He pauses. “I’m gonna need investors. Capital. We’re going to be rich!”.

You take a deep breath of the cool, dry, spiritually cleansed air. To be rich with him would be good, right? And worth putting up with the same old jokes for a few more years.

Maybe this time he got it right.

In the closet, the remaining plants fade to grey.

Monday, October 7, 2019

Nightmare Fuel Day the Fifth - WIsh

I love wishes. I love deals with genies and the devil and any supernatural being with the ability to give us the very worst thing it possibly could - exactly what we want.

At the very least, we get lovely little puzzle stories of humans trying to outsmart a virtual god. Here's a quick tale of someone who thought he won the wishing game.
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The Third Wish

“Your wish is my command, and very well-phrased, if I do say.”

I’ll admit that I was pleased with myself. Yes, I know I wasn’t the first to wish for immortality, but I’ve read enough stories to know that wishing was a fool’s game, unless you’re clever and careful. I studied first. I read up on contract law. On fairy tales. On myths.

I was going to get this right, and carefully so. Avoid disease or senescence or an eternity of pain. And this was just one wish, carefully worded. I’d keep the other two in reserve, as an emergency measure.

Image by Andrea Trask

“It’s just… well, nevermind. I’m sure you’ve thought of all of it.”

It doesn’t matter how I found the genie or bound him to do my bidding, but that I did. And this one was clearly impressed, and respectful. I’m not so arrogant as to not listen; after all, I DID still have two wishes left, and haven’t even created myself a fortune.

Yet.

“It’s just that the wish was perfectly worded for all natural or supernatural illnesses, all age related failings physical and mental, all germs, diseases, curses, afflictions.”

I nodded, impatient. “Yes, Genie. I know I what I wished for. It’s very careful and very much ironclad.”

“Only… did you not think of accidents? A fire? A car crash? Lightning?”

“I thought those fell under aflictions?”

“No… you’re not protected from misadventure or disasters.”

“OK.. so for my next wish, I wish to be protected…” I continued very carefuly and quickly, modifying the language from my anti-illness wish to include all natural and man-made disasters, accidents, misadventures, and acts of god. It’s good to be smart, and to have earned the respect of the genie.

Ten years later I’d still not used that last wish. I had a house, a wife, a baby, a car. The secret is to find a way to live comfortably, with the security that you’re taken car of and it’ll all work out. It isn’t hard to win the wishing-game if you aren’t greedy.

The fire alarm didn’t wake me at first, but that’s OK. After all, I was protected, and protected well. The smoke smelled like a campfire, the flames a gentle warmth. I smiled until I heard the screaming from my daughter’s room, then jumped out of bed in a panic, running through the smoke-filled rooms. It didn’t even sting my eyes, but obscured my vision.

You don’t need to hear the rest. I found them, my wife and the baby, in the nursery. Ran them outside, but it was too late, much too late. Cradling my baby’s lifeless body, I looked up at the house. The protection had held, with even the siding around my bedroom window clean and unmarked.

“Oh… I wish it had been me.”

Those are the last words I ever spoke. As the world faded away I heard the baby’s laughter and realized something.

I’d won the wishing game after all.

Nightmare Fuel 2019 Day the Fourth - Grave

I've fallen behind, but might do some two-a-days to catch up. Image is in the public domain, source unknown.

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Grave

“You gotta see this!”

Calvin would admit, it wasn’t that first thing he’d have expected. They’d only turned off the wooded trail behind the school a few minutes ago, but this space was hidden by thick underbrush and a low rise in the soft earth. Somehow, here in the trackless woods, someone had brought a casket, its finish long faded to a mottled rorshach of mold, but the lid and tapered sides still appearing solid and whole.

“It’s… a coffin”. Moments like this never find Cal at his brightest. Neither does time with Bruce, truth be told. He always seems to be thinking a step ahead of everyone. In class. On the track team. Out here noplace. “uh… why?” IT seemed a good question. They might not be quite old enough to drink or even vote, but they were past the age at which the mere sight of a coffin should mean that much.

Not that either had yet seen death.

“I’m gonna take her out here.”

“Take who out here? And… why? Won’t the coffin gross her out? Whoever it is?”

Bruce laughed. “Does it matter who? And it’s perfect.” He tapped the top of the casket with the back of his hand. “Solid. And the way it’s propped up here, it’s the perfect height to bend her over it. And get this..” he paused. “It’s a grave for her virginity.” He gave that cocky grin of his that always made Cal either want to punch him or to be him. Sometimes both.

Bruce coaxed Diana to the spot on the very next day. It felt right to him, her dark hair and affected black-painted nails and dark lipstick the color of old blood. That’s the kind of girl you fuck on the creepy coffin in the middle of the woods. Certainly not platinum-blond Lana from the cheerleading and the debate team. No, this was a place for the pale-skinned wisp with her darklined eyes and bad poetry. She didn’t gasp in shock when she saw it, didn’t even have a catch in her breath. Bruce glanced sideways at her, saw her biting her lip thoughtfully. Maybe this wasn’t right? Maybe Lana or Diana or someone else would be appropriately spooked and give in more eagerly. Maybe he’d gotten too much into the looks of the thing.

No matter. He sat boldly on the macabre bit of woodland furniture, patted the faded hardwood top next to him. “Join me?”

She laughed. Not an unpleasant or cruel laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Do you know,” she said, “that Mary Shelley was said to have lost her virginity on a grave?” She paused. “On her mothers’s grave.”

“That’s.. very interesting.” She’d still not sat down; Bruce wasn’t sure he was doing this right. Wasn’t sure why she was the one standing and him sitting. But.. .she was talking about losing virginity. That’s a good sign, right?

“And you know…” she leaned in close to him, traced his jawline with one of those red-painted nails. Up close he could see that the polish was chipped at one end. That little imperfection drew his eye, “You know… nobody remembers the name of the guy she lost it with. Just hers.”

Her eyes flick down almost imperceptibly to his lap, then back to the head of the casket. “So you need to ask… whose story is this? And whose grave are we about to defile?”

Two weeks later the search was winding down; they’d keep looking, of course, but it was winding down to the rote performance of those who know they’d never find who they were looking for. Cal returned to the clearing for what felt like the hundredth time; off the path into the trackless woods, over the low earthen hill and… to nothing. No coffin, no half-dug grave. Just a gentle depression in the soft earth.

Nothing more.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

Nightmare Fuel - Day the Third. Nothing

I'm running behind here; might catch up this week.

This fit the prompt better before some changes; I like this version of the story better, so take the image as metaphorical.

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Between the pounding in your head and the late-night darkness you fumble to get the key into the latch. Why didn’t she leave the light on for you? You fumble once more, and the door pushes open. It hadn’t even been locked.

Wonderful.

You step into the darkness, push the door shut behind you. Making sure it locks. The lock feels strange under your fingers, but the deadbolt slides into place with a reassuring click.

You take two steps into the room, stumble. The chair isn’t where you remembered it, but that’s just your mind playing tricks. She wouldn’t rearrange the furniture. Would she?

You know you’re late again, know that happy hour drinks went a bit too long.

You can imagine the conversation. The same one. She’s never had a job like yours, never gotten office politics. Doesn’t realize that you need to be seen at happy hour with the crew, like it or not.

You’ll sleep on the couch tonight, wake her in the morning.

Dawn comes, and with it the expected pounding headache. Light streams through the curtains onto the yellow couch.

Yellow?

You shake your head violently. Your couch is blue. You blink twice, disoriented, but the wrong furniture remains. And the wrong wall color.

And the fumbling with your key.

You quietly curse yourself, grab your shoes. You’ll slip out, get to the right house. And then figure out an explanation. Shit, she’ll probably think you were having an affair.

You quietly get to your feet, slip your shoes back on. Undo the deadbolt and push open the door.

The daylight stabs into your eyes like daggers. You close them tightly, then open them cautiously again, turn to look at the mailbox to see where you’ve ended up. It is.. #4.

It’s your house.

Heart pounding you run back inside, but nothing matches.

The wrong furniture.

No wife, no kids.

Just you. In your house.

That wasn’t yours.

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

Nightmare Fuel 2019 - Day the Second. A Guide to the NYC Subway

Less narrative for day two, I'm not sure what this is. A pose poem? A meditation? Random words on a page?

Regardless, it's atmospheric (I think)

Anubis in Hakone, by Joanna Karowicz

The Adventurer’s Guide to the New York City Subway

Go to City Hall station. When the attendant in the booth is distracted, duck under the yellow caution tape, into the old part of the station. The part that’s not been refurbished. To the old place, with character and memory.

Count the third steel door, the battered beige paint flaking off. You’ll need to push hard to force it open; no matter how many come through it always sticks. That’s just the way.

Hope that nobody heard the scrape of rusty old steel on stone.

Find the old turnstyle, one of the last to still take tokens.

Consider paying with the old-style token you found at the museum shop. The shape of a thing becomes the thing.

Consider paying with the genuine antique token you found at the estate sale last week. A dead man’s coin to enter a dead realm.

Consider jumping the turnstyle. After all, you broke a rule to be here. What’s one more?

Make your choice.

Take a moment to study the mosaics on the wall while you await the train. See that the tiles are arranged shapes of gloves, posed as if worn by invisible people. White opera gloves, dirty grey work gloves, childs’ mittens, their once cheerful colors muted by layers of grime.

Ponder your hands, and wonder what gloves you’d wear.

Now the train is here. An old one, with the genuine leather straps overhead. The car empty save for Anubis, who never remembers his stop, always rides until the end of the line, sometimes back again.

Stand clear of the closing doors.

Don’t sit to close to him; gods of death need their space, as, honestly, do you. You’re past the end of the line anyway, the last stop two streets or two decades or a thousand years behind.

Ride past the glorious old City Hall station, the one you came here to see, the one with the vaulted ceiling and gilt columns and a glorious smell of decay.

Ride until the tracks end and even Anubis has gotten off.

Ride until a stranger boards, having bought or stolen his way onto the train, meets your eye across the old car wondering just what god you are.

Leave something behind when you disembark, checking the station map for a clue as to where you are as the train rattles onward, farther past the end of the line.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Nightmare Fuel 2019, Day the First - At the Loom

Wow, it's been a long time since I've written here.

Greetings, again, I'll try to not neglect this space.

It's October, and for the better part of the past decade that's meant Andrea Trask's annual "Nightmare Fuel" project, in which anyone moved to do so writes little horror stories based on a daily image prompt. I like this as a bit of a daily writing exercise, but sometimes fade out if my pieces start feeling too much alike.

So it begins, for this year. Enjoy, and thanks for listening.

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The day after her death you tore your clothes, as was the custom. The cry of rent fabric echoed your own in a way that dulled the pain, dimmed it if even for a moment. You fell onto the bed where she took her last breath, your hands falling to the heavy woven blanket. Your tore and pulled and unraveled until your hands ached, until the threads cut into soft fingers unused to this violence, as her absence cut into the soft parts of your heart.

You tore and tore and tore.

A month after her death you gathered up the tangled threads, straightened them, unknotted them. Wound them onto spools. Untangling them tangled something deep in your gut as the touch worried against the raw callouses on your fingers.

You wound, wound, and stored.

A month after her death you purchased a loom, you learned to weave. You bought yarns of different colors, different thickness, different feel. Natural, artificial. You watched instructional videos, you learned of warp and weft and counts and other arcane secrets.

You practiced.

A year after her death your hands were calloused, strong, no longer smooth and soft like your heart. You wove blankets and tapestries and throw-rugs. You wove geometric patterns, you wove landscapes, you wove tromp l’oeil effects designed to look like windows. You’d hang them on a bare wall, imagine them real windows. Imagine her standing outside, just out of your view. If the loom were wider you’d be able to see her. You took some pieces to local craft fairs, you opened a little online store. Mostly you wove.

You wove and you dreamed.

Ten years after her death you’d mastered the tromp l’oeil, the window to nowhere. Windows into cloudscapes and pastoral landscapes and heavens and dark underworlds, but no matter how wide you wove she’d always be just out of sight, just unreachable. Your home became full of them, walls hung with dizzying patchworks of faux windows and archways.

You wove, and you searched.

Twenty years after her death, you took those long-forgotten threads from the closet. The ones that had been her blanket. You unspooled the long-faded yarn, slowly, reverently. Died it in blacks and browns, the color of the earth to which she’d returned.

And you wove.

Your final piece, a simple throw-rug. Too narrow, because there was only but so much thread from that old blanket. In the warp and weave a shape formed – a simple wooden staircase, downward.

You wove your way to the underworld, an Orpheus of the loom, descending on the stairs of your art to again meet her.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Thoughts on Trans Day of Remembrance, 2018

As we prepare to kick off the joyous part of the holiday season, today is a somber and serious day for reflection and mourning. Since 1999, November 20th has been observed as the Transgender Day of Remembrance in which we take the time to remember those lost to anti-trans violence. We need to take the time to remember because this is a population who, as a society, we have failed. We continue to fail them.

The first time I posted this, in 2014, I told the story of one of my juggler friends commenting that we're lucky to have one of our trans friends in our lives, because too many are lost to suicide or to murder. While the official TDOR count doesn't include those who've taken their own lives, I feel that their blood is on our hands for all the harms we as a society inflict.

Too many of us refuse to use the correct pronouns.

We fight to keep them out of public restrooms.

The United States justice department has argued to the Supreme Court that employment discrimination against trans people should be legal.

Yes, there are bright spots. Legal protections were confirmed in a Massachusetts referendum this past election day - the first time trans rights were defended at the ballot box. More people are learning, more are trying to learn.

It isn't enough. Not yet.

What can we do, my cisgender brothers and sisters? At the very least we need to not be part of the problem. Learn to use the correct pronouns. Learn which language is and isn't harmful. When you hear someone say something transphobic, correct them.

Remember those we've lost. Mourn the dead, fight for the living.

Following is the list of names. All killed this year for who they were, throughout the world.

We need to do better.

Argentina

Carolina/Camila Angulo Paredes

Buenos Aires, Argentina

29-Dec-17

shot

Lourdes Reinoso

Tucuman, Argentina

14-Jan-18

stabbed

Ynina

Puerto Madryn, Argentina

30-Jan-18

Unknown

Adriana Estefanía Bonetto

San Jose del Rincon, Argentina

8-Feb-18

stabbed

Cinthia Moreira

Villa Alen, Argentina

22-Feb-18

decapitated/dismembered

Sol Gómez

Santa Fe, Argentina

7-Mar-18

Unknown

Julia Ponce

Buenos Aires, Argentina

23-Jul-18

Unknown

Yanelis Rodríguez

Argentina, Argentina

31-Aug-18

Unknown

Bangladesh

Sonia Akter

Morrelganj, Bangladesh

31-Dec-17

Unknown

Brazil

L. de Souza Pereira

Manaus, Brazil

23-Nov-17

beaten

Unknown Name

Uberlândia, Brazil

28-Nov-17

shot

Milena

Arapiraca, Brazil

1-Dec-17

stoned

Andressa Xoda

Pauladas E Tiros – Salvador, Brazil

3-Dec-17

shot

Eduarda Figueiredo

Porto Seguro, Brazil

3-Dec-17

shot

Júlia Volp

Florianópolis, Brazil

4-Dec-17

tortured

Jéssica Dimy

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

7-Dec-17

Unknown

Sabrina

Uberaba, Brazil

7-Dec-17

Unknown

Luany Aquamarine

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

9-Dec-17

beaten

Luna Shine

Viana, Brazil

11-Dec-17

stabbed

Marquete F. C. de Lima

Altinho, Brazil

13-Dec-17

shot

Kebeca G. de Souza

Gurupi, Brazil

16-Dec-17

shot

Larissa Paiva

Sao Paulo, Brazil

17-Dec-17

beaten

Rose

João Pessoa, Brazil

17-Dec-17

beaten

Lorrany “Lhoane” Oliveira

Santaluz, Brazil

26-Dec-17

tortured

V. O. Silva

Uberaba, Brazil

30-Dec-17

tortured

Silvia Gomes Marques

Belem, Brazil

1-Jan-18

Unknown

Fany Diniz

Belem, Brazil

3-Jan-18

shot

C. Sobral

Feira de Santana, Brazil

5-Jan-18

Unknown

Unknown Name

Brasília, Brazil

5-Jan-18

stabbed

W. Peixoto

Piripiri, Brazil

9-Jan-18

beaten

C. Figueiredo

Recife, Brazil

17-Jan-18

stabbed

Carol Alves

Tangará da Serra, Brazil

17-Jan-18

shot

Kelly

Belém, Brazil

20-Jan-18

shot

Unknown Name

Concórdia do Pará, Brazil

20-Jan-18

Unknown

Júlia de Arruda

Várzea Grande, Brazil

21-Jan-18

other

Lohane

Governador Newton Bello, Brazil

23-Jan-18

stabbed

Rios Dayane Macklarenn

São Bernardo do Campo, Brazil

26-Jan-18

Unknown

Raquel Cosinele

Recife, Brazil

27-Jan-18

stoned

Samira de Alcantara

Nossa Senhora do Socorro, Brazil

29-Jan-18

stabbed

Natália Ketlyn

Campos Altos, Brazil

1-Feb-18

shot

Hemilly Dbx

Garanhuns, Brazil

6-Feb-18

stabbed

Anninha Ferreira Rochee

Colatina, Brazil

7-Feb-18

decapitated/dismembered

A. da S. Silvério

Vitíoria de São Antão, Brazil

8-Feb-18

shot

Lohan

Vitoria, Brazil

8-Feb-18

beaten

Milonga F. L. Martins

Pacajus, Brazil

9-Feb-18

shot

Dominique

Uberlândia, Brazil

10-Feb-18

beaten

Nayra Winston

Rio Largo, Brazil

10-Feb-18

shot

Unknown Name

Fortaleza, Brazil

11-Feb-18

shot

Bruna

Belém, Brazil

12-Feb-18

shot

Keila

Salvador, Brazil

12-Feb-18

shot

Unknown Name

Joao Pessoa, Brazil

12-Feb-18

shot

K. Silva

Manaus, Brazil

13-Feb-18

tortured

Pérola

Sao Paulo, Brazil

14-Feb-18

shot

Bruna Ferrari

Concórdia do Pará, Brazil

15-Feb-18

Unknown

Laysla Oliveira

Ribeirão Preto, Brazil

18-Feb-18

beaten

Amanda Rios

João Pessoa, Brazil

19-Feb-18

shot

Eduarda Brasil

Araras, Brazil

19-Feb-18

other

Rayana Ribeiro

João Pessoa, Brazil

20-Feb-18

Unknown

Bia Rocha

Recife, Brazil

23-Feb-18

Unknown

Claudia Oliveira

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

23-Feb-18

shot

Fernanda Caetano

Lapa, Brazil

23-Feb-18

Unknown

Kimberlys Ochoa

Lara, Venezuela

25-Feb-18

beaten

Fernanda “Pit” Dias

São Mateus, Brazil

27-Feb-18

shot

Alessandra da Silva Alves

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

1-Mar-18

shot

Shayene

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

1-Mar-18

shot

Palola

João Pessoa, Brazil

4-Mar-18

shot

Samielly Castro

São Paulo, Brazil

4-Mar-18

shot

Pâmela Tabete

Craiba, Brazil

8-Mar-18

beaten

Thalita da Silva

Barra do Garças, Brazil

13-Mar-18

throat cut

J. Oliveira da Silva

Vila Velha, Brazil

16-Mar-18

shot

Unknown Name

Ilha do Governador, Brazil

17-Mar-18

decapitated/dismembered

Bruna Gabriel

Ananindeua, Brazil

19-Mar-18

shot

N. Naza

Ananindeua, Brazil

19-Mar-18

shot

Paola Oliveira

Luziânia, Brazil

20-Mar-18

shot

Alanis Burgo

Pelotas, Brazil

22-Mar-18

suffocated

Giorginye Dias de Siqueira

Aparecida de Goiânia, Brazil

22-Mar-18

shot

Unknown Name

São Leopoldo, Brazil

22-Mar-18

shot

Daniela Santos

Ibicaraí, Brazil

23-Mar-18

tortured

Cleide Aládio Zaramarine Neto

Itaberaí, Brazil

25-Mar-18

beaten

Hilda de Melo Matias

Barbalha, Brazil

25-Mar-18

shot

Eduarda Amaro

Pelotas, Brazil

29-Mar-18

shot

Elvira Costa Ferreira

Maranguape, Brazil

2-Apr-18

shot

Andressa Muda

Macaé, Brazil

3-Apr-18

Unknown

Benjamin de Jesus Sousa

Teresina, Brazil

6-Apr-18

stabbed

Angra Alessandra Cupertino

Feira de Santana, Brazil

7-Apr-18

stabbed

Millany Spencer

Nossa Senhora do Socorro, Brazil

14-Apr-18

Beaten and strangled

Nati da Silva

Lajeado, Brazil

20-Apr-18

shot

Nycoly Souza Nardoni Bhals

Governador Valadares, Brazil

22-Apr-18

shot

Gabriely Fancciny

Porto Velho, Brazil

28-Apr-18

stabbed

Matheusx Passarelli

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

29-Apr-18

burned

Raunna Silva

Niterói, Brazil

30-Apr-18

shot

Unknown Name

Campo Grande, Brazil

30-Apr-18

shot

Bianca Santos Albuquerque

Araras, Brazil

30-Apr-18

shot

Paulinha

Fortaleza, Brazil

1-May-18

shot

C. Alves

Vitória da Conquista, Brazil

8-May-18

shot

Myrella Mhell

Pirapora, Brazil

21-May-18

shot

Pandora

Santa Rita, Brazil

21-May-18

shot

Beatriz Ribeiro

Bacabal, Brazil

25-May-18

stabbed

D.R.C.

Jundiaí, Brazil

25-May-18

beaten

I. Silva

Itaberaí, Brazil

29-May-18

Unknown

Patrícia Pereira

Maracanaú, Brazil

31-May-18

shot

Nayra Matos

Maracanaú, Brazil

31-May-18

shot

Britney Vaz

Colniza, Brazil

3-Jun-18

shot

Vitória

Salvador, Brazil

3-Jun-18

shot

Unknown Name

Manaus, Brazil

6-Jun-18

shot

Kamila Roberta

Florianópolis, Brazil

7-Jun-18

beaten

Fernanda Reichert

São Leopoldo, Brazil

9-Jun-18

stabbed

Tiffanny Montel

Boa Vista, Brazil

10-Jun-18

stabbed

Agatha Gomes (Bebê)

Belford Roxo, Brazil

19-Jun-18

shot

Thalia Costa Barboza

São Borja, Brazil

21-Jun-18

stoned

Nikolly Silva

Cabo Frio, Brazil

22-Jun-18

stoned

Gaby Scheifer

Ponta Grossa, Brazil

23-Jun-18

run-over by car

Índia da Silva Pellegrine

Salvador, Brazil

25-Jun-18

shot

Bruna da Conceição

Lagarto, Brazil

25-Jun-18

shot

Carla Croft

Pacajus, Brazil

29-Jun-18

shot

Deepa

Jalandhar, India

3-Jul-18

stabbed

Mirela

Balneário Camboriú, Brazil

4-Jul-18

strangled/hanged

Shirley dos Santos

Recife, Brazil

4-Jul-18

shot

Michele Silveira

Itaperuna, Brazil

7-Jul-18

shot

Fernanda da Biz

Campo Grande, Brazil

8-Jul-18

stabbed

Aisha Albuquerque

Curitiba, Brazil

13-Jul-18

beaten

Daniela Cicarelli

Gurupi, Brazil

17-Jul-18

shot

Lay Neves de Santana

Camaçari, Brazil

17-Jul-18

shot

Unknown Name

Itaperuna, Brazil

20-Jul-18

shot

Paola Villefort

Nova Serrana, Brazil

23-Jul-18

stabbed

Daiane Souza

Porto Alegre, Brazil

26-Jul-18

shot

Gaby Arantes

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

28-Jul-18

beaten

Dudu dos Santos Duarte

Paraisópolis, Brazil

3-Aug-18

shot

Lalesca

Salvador, Brazil

5-Aug-18

throat cut

Paloma Ferreira

Fortaleza, Brazil

6-Aug-18

shot

Paolla “LelÍ” Blayton

Campos, Brazil

7-Aug-18

shot

Karlla da Silva Balbino

Caratinga, Brazil

9-Aug-18

strangled/hanged

T‚nia Lopes

Florianópolis, Brazil

10-Aug-18

shot

Renata

Cabo de Santo Agostinho, Brazil

12-Aug-18

shot

Krispim Souza de Araujo

Mossóro, Brazil

14-Aug-18

shot

D. M. Teixeira

Mossóro, Brazil

20-Aug-18

shot

A. L. da Silva Bezerra

Mossóro, Brazil

20-Aug-18

shot

Evelin Ferrari

Caruaru, Brazil

21-Aug-18

shot

J. F. de Souza

Curitiba, Brazil

23-Aug-18

stoned

Sheila dos Santos

Buriticupu, Brazil

23-Aug-18

stoned

Paola dos Reis

Cuiaba, Brazil

30-Aug-18

stabbed

Rayka

Praia Grande, Brazil

30-Aug-18

Unknown

Unknown Name

Manaus, Brazil

31-Aug-18

stabbed

Deia Alves Maciel

Goiania, Brazil

1-Sep-18

stabbed

Maria Luíza

Sao Paulo, Brazil

1-Sep-18

beaten

Rafaela Sena

Xique-xique, Brazil

2-Sep-18

shot

Unknown Name

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

6-Sep-18

Unknown

Monique Manardi Lee

Sao Paulo, Brazil

11-Sep-18

beaten

Abya Passos Mantovanny

Cuiaba, Brazil

15-Sep-18

stabbed

Kemily

Belem, Brazil

16-Sep-18

shot

J. Oliveira de Araújo

Martins, Brazil

24-Sep-18

Unknown

Nicolly

Lagarto, Brazil

26-Sep-18

beaten

Bolivia

Veronica Carbajal Pinto

La Paz, Bolivia

27-Nov-17

suffocated

Adri Adely Jurado

La Paz, Bolivia

13-Jul-18

stabbed

Chile

Paloma

Santiago, Chile

14-Feb-18

beaten

Colombia

Marilyn Cipriany Guzmán

Medellín, Colombia

30-Dec-17

shot

Chelsy/Cristal Grisales Molina

La Virginia, Colombia

24-Jan-18

shot

Silvana Pineda

La Dorada, Colombia

27-Jan-18

shot

J. A. Marín Marín

Soacha, Colombia

1-Feb-18

stabbed

Tatiana/Tetris/Muelas

Bogota, Colombia

10-Feb-18

stabbed

Alexa Amero Sierra

Bogota, Colombia

9-Mar-18

stabbed

Lorena Molina López

Montenegro, Colombia

25-Mar-18

shot

Alejandra Torres Torres

Manizales, Colombia

22-Apr-18

stabbed

Abril Natasha Quiñónez

Cali, Colombia

12-Aug-18

shot

Lili Chirinos Carrillo

Valledupar, Colombia

18-Aug-18

shot in the head

Unknown Name

Cordova, Colombia

31-Aug-18

Unknown

Carol Perez Guerrero

Ciudad Bolivar, Colombia

22-Sep-18

shot

Unknown Name

Cochabamba, Colombia

23-Sep-18

beaten

Valeria Sandoval

Cali, Colombia

28-Sep-18

asphyxiated

Dominican Republic

Blanca

La Vega, Dominican Republic

27-Jan-18

stabbed

Ecuador

Isabel Borja Suárez

Quevedo, Ecuador

13-May-18

stabbed

El Salvador

Unknown Name

Departamente de la Paz, El Salvador

30-Nov-17

Unknown

Unknown Name

Chalchuapa, El Salvador

18-Jan-18

stabbed

Unknown Name

Cuscatlan, El Salvador

8-Mar-18

stabbed

D. A. Portillo Jiménez

El Salvador, El Salvador

21-Mar-18

stabbed

Geovanny Romero Ortiz

Santa Ana, El Salvador

3-Jun-18

Unknown

Unknown Name

Soyopango, El Salvador

31-Aug-18

Unknown

France

Flávia Luiza

Paris, France

27-Dec-17

Unknown

Vanessa Campos

Paris, France

17-Aug-18

shot

Fiji

Lucky Salavuki

Suva, Fiji

17-May-18

stoned

Guatamala

E. G. Sarat

Xela, Guatamala

27-Nov-17

shot

A. Sis

Salama, Guatamala

16-Jul-18

shot

Yessika Ruedas Gómez

Jalapa, Guatamala

28-Aug-18

stabbed

Débora Ramos Cordón

Chiquimula, Guatamala

22-Sep-18

beaten

Honduras

Tyty

San Pedro Sula, Honduras

23-Jan-18

Unknown

India

Mohit

New Delhi, India

17-Dec-17

beaten

Devudamma Surya Narayana

Anakapalle, India

24-Dec-17

burned

V. Alphonze

Madurai, India

10-Apr-18

stabbed

Chanchal

Aashiana, India

22-Apr-18

shot

Manju

Khajrana, India

7-May-18

stabbed

Chandraiah

Hyderabad, India

26-May-18

beaten

Italy

Ximena Garcia

Nemi, Italy

10-Mar-18

Unknown

Rafaella Rotocalco

Rome, Italy

11-Sep-18

Unknown

Unknown Name

San Giorgio, Italy

23-Sep-18

stabbed

Mexico

Kendrika Itzel D Espino

Chihuahua, Mexico

24-Nov-17

Unknown

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

30-Nov-17

Unknown, one of four cases on this date

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

30-Nov-17

Unknown, one of four cases on this date

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

30-Nov-17

Unknown, one of four cases on this date

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

30-Nov-17

Unknown, one of four cases on this date

Sandra

Nuevo Leon, Mexico

30-Nov-17

beaten

Unknown Name

Estado de Mexico, Mexico

7-Dec-17

stabbed

Geraldine Contreras

Colima, Mexico

9-Dec-17

Unknown

C.N.

Guerrero, Mexico

17-Dec-17

shot

Canoa

Fortaleza, Mexico

17-Dec-17

shot

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

31-Dec-17

tortured

G. Carrera

Tamaulipas, Mexico

5-Jan-18

stabbed

Unknown Name

Veracruz, Mexico

11-Jan-18

throat cut

Jessica González

Veracruz, Mexico

11-Jan-18

Unknown

Paola Carranco

Ciudad De Mexico, Mexico

26-Jan-18

shot

Brigith

Quintara Roo, Mexico

27-Jan-18

shot

C. Antuan

Guanajuato, Mexico

12-Feb-18

shot

Unknown Name

Ciudad Victoria, Mexico

17-Feb-18

shot, one of three cases on this date

Unknown Name

Ciudad Victoria, Mexico

17-Feb-18

shot, one of three cases on this date

Unknown Name

Ciudad Victoria, Mexico

17-Feb-18

shot, one of three cases on this date

Samantha

Guerrero, Mexico

6-Mar-18

Unknown

Unknown Name

Sinaloa, Mexico

7-Mar-18

Unknown

Sheila

Nayarit, Mexico

15-Mar-18

shot

Charly

Puebla, Mexico

22-Mar-18

decapitated/dismembered

Yoselyn

Veracruz, Mexico

4-Apr-18

Unknown

Grechen Alina Lara García

Nuevo Leon, Mexico

9-Apr-18

tortured and suffocated

Unknown Name

Nuevo Leon, Mexico

17-Apr-18

Tortured and strangled

Brisa

Veracruz, Mexico

22-Apr-18

shot

Unknown Name

Puebla, Mexico

23-Apr-18

stabbed

Jalisco, Mexico

25-Apr-18

stoned

Unknown Name

Guerrero, Mexico

27-Apr-18

shot

Unknown Name

Nuevo Leon, Mexico

21-May-18

suffocated

Yamileth Quintero

Sinaloa, Mexico

24-May-18

shot

Maritza Harrera

Guerrero, Mexico

25-May-18

stabbed

S. Antolli

Chiapas, Mexico

29-May-18

stabbed

J. Martínez Cepeda

Coahuila, Mexico

10-Jun-18

asphyxiatied and hit by a rock

Unknown Name

Michoacan, Mexico

14-Jun-18

shot

Unknown Name

Colima, Mexico

16-Jun-18

Unknown

Nataly Briyith Sánchez

Chiapas, Mexico

19-Jun-18

Unknown

Alexa GutiÈrrez

Aguascalientes, Mexico

24-Jun-18

Unknown

Katy

Morelos, Mexico

24-Jun-18

shot

Unknown Name

Chiapas, Mexico

30-Jun-18