Carter Payne
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carterpaynewrites.com
Carter Payne
@carterpaynewrites.com
170 followers 280 following 370 posts
At 41 years old I decided to write a novel and my neurodivergence was like "we got this."
Gamer
Coffee lover
Musician
He/Him
🚫 GenAI

WIP: Tales From The Marigold Mining Corporation

www.carterpaynewrites.com
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What it's been like here in the Payne house the past few days. Not a lot of writing, or anything productive, goijg on. Comic is a classic from. @theawkwardyeti.bsky.social
A four panel comic that contains the following conversation between a cartoon liver and gallbladder. Liver: what do you want gall bladder? Can't you see I have a lot to do? Gall Bladder (holding stones): I maked these L: you made STONES? YOU'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO HOLD WHAT I GIVE YOU! GET OUT! GO ON! GB (looking sad): I maked these
November 25, 2025 at 12:59 AM
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Bad day? Might I suggest a desk-side cat tower and a fluffy chonk? It won't make the horrors go away, but it might make them a little more manageable for the time it takes to scritch.
A black and white cat laying by a window. She is unbothered by the horrors of the world we live in.
November 4, 2025 at 6:52 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity

Sometimes it's the littlest things that stick with us.
“I miss those days.” “Really?” Ty sat up. “They were simpler. It was just us.” “We were living off of canned foods and scraps.” Those first several months had been hell. “I just remember us being together.” Ty shrugged. Walt remembered those days too well. Scared, worried that they would run out of food. That his meager garden wouldn’t provide anything for them, which it didn’t. That bandits, raiders, whatever would come. Didn’t the apocalypse always include these? Now they not only had an abundance of food, so much so that they even had a small group dedicated to food preservation, but electricity and a steady supply of clean water. “We’re together now,” Walt started to say but stopped himself. That would have been a lie. Ty was in here. Brian was…somewhere, Walt hoped. They were farther apart than they’d ever been. “We sat around that fire in the front yard roasting marshmallows. You showed Brian and me how to put them together. Chocolate on one cracker, then squeeze the marshmallow between the two crackers. That was nice.” Ty said.
November 3, 2025 at 3:35 PM
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Time for our annual watch. That's a rock fact!
#overthegardenwall
A rock with a face on it from Over the Garden Wall
October 26, 2025 at 11:02 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
He glanced at himself in the mirror beside the door. His silver hair stood on end. He ran his hand through his hair but it popped right back up. He plucked his hat from the hook and slid it onto his head. Frank Dreisen, drunk, was gone. Frank Dreisen, detective, opened the door. A haggard looking woman and a pissed-off bulldog of a man were standing on his threshold. “Good, uh, afternoon? How can I help?” Frank hiccupped. Okay, Frank Dreisen, drunk detective, had opened the door.
October 26, 2025 at 12:56 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
Beside the garden were a few headstones. There was a path to them, but it wasn’t as worn down. He walked over to them and knelt down. There were six in total. They looked well-preserved, though they were covered in a thin layer of grime. The memorial back home had to be cleaned occasionally. Is this what it would look like if there was no one around to keep it? There was certainly not six or seven years-worth of crud on them. Maybe a few months. There were names and dates chiseled professionally into the four oldest stones. The newer two, that simply had Mama and Papa on them, were sloppily carved, and both were marked with April six years ago. E-Day.
October 24, 2025 at 11:54 AM
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No gradient, but there is a swirl of colors.

#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
Silently, a bulbous form rose from the dirt on four spindly legs. It had an iridescent mother-of-pearl sheen; rainbows of color swirled over the metallic body and legs.
October 23, 2025 at 10:24 PM
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The news last night and today is just... a lot.

#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
“Welcome everyone. For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Sal Anthony. I am…was…minister of First Methodist church over in St. Charles. I'm not here to console you. Any comfort I could offer pales in comparison to the tragedy we have all faced. “A year ago our world was thrust into a challenge no one was prepared for. My hope, such as it is, is that this will bring us closer together some day. Today, however, is for remembering, as a community, everyone that we lost.” Reverend Anthony continued, but Walt’s mind was elsewhere. The weight of Sarah in his arms, Brian and Tyli next to him holding hands, their neighbor, Sam, and her partner. She’d found Janie just a week ago. They buried her with the others. Walt shot down the objections before anyone had a chance to make one. The graveyard was for the victims of E-Day, and Janie may not have died on E-Day, but she was absolutely its victim.
October 11, 2025 at 9:33 PM
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When Vance Newcombe was sixteen he’d discovered a way to convert far more solar energy into electricity while working in his parents’ yard. He’d connected one of his new panels up to a battery and the surge of energy from the panel caused the battery to explode, taking out his parent’s garage, guest bedroom, half a bathroom, and started a fire that took days to quell, only being able to be stopped when he heroically fought through the blazing inferno to disconnect the solar panel. That last part was probably apocryphal but it made for an engrossing story for a bunch of middle schoolers. The fire was real, though.
October 9, 2025 at 5:12 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
They were led through the police station to a room in the basement that was lined with a series of cells along opposite walls. If this was home now Brian would have much rather been back on the farm under the blazing mid-July sun. The room made Brian think of old episodes of The Andy Griffith Show. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Otis sleeping off last night’s bender in one of the cells. Why the hell did he remember the name of the town drunk in some old TV show, but couldn’t remember the names of some of his own squad?
October 8, 2025 at 12:22 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity

A dash of magical realism in amongst the apocalypse
Brian stayed behind a moment, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of peace. Of safety. The sky above Birdie’s yard seemed brighter. Warmer and bluer. Like she’d released some kind of power into the earth here at the threshold to her land and it pulsed with life. Brian meant to ask her if there was some significance to what she’d done, but something in that moment told him to remain quiet. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, basking in the feeling of life, and then turned and followed the others. By the time he remembered it was too late to ask.
October 7, 2025 at 11:56 AM
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These days the mug only ever contained water, but in his heart Walt was a coffee man. He missed the flavor and jolt of energy from the caffeine, of course, but what he really missed was the ritual. Grinding the beans while the kettle gurgled away as the water heated to the perfect temperature. Measuring the grounds. Getting the perfect pour. The smell rising from the carafe as the water passed through the ground beans. The mug of tea he would make for Greta while he prepared his morning coffee.
October 6, 2025 at 3:07 PM
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No hibernate. Best I can do is some sleeping kids.

#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
All three kids were sound asleep in their rooms and the world around him was silent. A couple of lightning bugs drifted their way over the weedy lawn. The first ones he’d seen since E-Day. Looking east the faint glow from the St. Louis Thunderhead was barely visible. He watched the pulses of light from the storm in silence for several minutes as he took periodic swigs from the bottle.
October 3, 2025 at 12:21 PM
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Had to go with a synonym. Sarah is a bit of brightness in what can be a fairly bleak world.

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Sarah hopped up to the table, setting Philomena in the seat next to her, and looked up at Walt, eyes wide. “Morning, daddy,” she said, a wide grin across her face. She was wearing pink rubber boots, bright pink leggings that had been patched too many times to count, and a neon green t-shirt with the words “Tou-can do it!” under a brightly colored bird with a large beak. The finishing touch was a purple tutu.
October 2, 2025 at 3:18 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
As they ate, Birdie talked about her daily life. It had probably been a long time since she’d had any contact with another person, and she was letting it all out at once in a steady stream of details. Everyone listened patiently as she talked about the minutia of her days.
October 1, 2025 at 6:48 PM
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Brian slid out the back door of the transport and squinted down the highway into the early afternoon sun wondering when—if—he would ever go back. What was he thinking? Of course he would go back. Ty was there. He’d have to go back for xer. “Yo, Morrow, you’ve got to move.” Rachel nudged him with her foot.
September 30, 2025 at 11:19 AM
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Brian took a marker and wrote “Greta Morrow” then passed the marker to Tyli who wrote “Mommy” beside that. Walt shifted Sarah to free his right hand and took the marker from Tyli then wrote “loving wife” beside “Mommy”. Walt considered all the other people in his life he'd never see again. The impossibility of memorializing everyone. He wrote Janie Warton below Greta Morrow, keeping the promise he made to Sam who couldn’t bear to be here today.
September 29, 2025 at 1:11 PM
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Surely doing her best to help me explore Pharloom.
#cat #tuxedocat
Black and white medium haired cat curled against a human leg. Human arm in foreground.
September 28, 2025 at 11:42 PM
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#WIPSnips #writing #Writingsky #WritingCommunity
The creature reached up with one leg that ended at a sharp point and stabbed it into the tree. It lifted a second leg and stabbed it a little higher up the trunk. Rather than simply continue its climb the back legs lifted off the ground and absorbed into the body which then rolled over and two legs extended out from what was now the front and grabbed higher up the tree. It was now about ten feet off the ground with all four legs buried in the trunk of the large oak.
September 25, 2025 at 6:23 PM
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#WIPWednesday #writing #Writingsky

From The New Concordia Transporter Incident
“But it’s just a kid. Shouldn’t we be doing everything we can?” Nathan Muller held up a hand. His face was serious. “Caitlyn, I understand you used to be a detective, you’re used to following every lead or whatever it is you did, but your job is to keep the crazies from getting any farther into the building than the lobby. That’s it.” “But, sir…” “You’re dismissed, Ms. O’Hare. I hope you clocked out before coming down here.” “Of course.” “Have a good evening.”
September 24, 2025 at 5:58 PM
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#writing #WritingCommunity #WritingSky

Here's a little snowy paragraph from The New Concordia Transporter Incident
The Central District of New Concordia teemed with life, even at almost 1 AM. Especially at almost 1 AM. Flecks of rainbow-colored snow fell through the frigid air, reflecting the neon signs that stretched as far as you could see and leaving a light dusting along the sidewalks. Cars zipped past, their hover jets blowing snow off the road below them, piling it up along the curb.
September 24, 2025 at 4:48 PM
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As he passed the spot Mark indicated he didn’t see anything. He had nearly convinced himself that either Mark was mistaken, or that he’d missed whatever it was, when he saw a barren patch of land. The leaves and undergrowth that carpeted the rest of the forest were gone. What was left behind looked like a burnt patch of dirt. An acrid smell that burned as he breathed it in hung heavily in the air. Silently, a bulbous form rose from the dirt on four spindly legs. It had an iridescent mother-of-pearl sheen covering it. Rainbows of color swirling over the metallic body and legs.
September 24, 2025 at 1:11 PM
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“Alcohol poisoning,” the doctor said, managing to sound simultaneously caring and condescending in equal measure. That was a skill.
September 23, 2025 at 2:30 PM
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No flurry but there was a barrage. Not sure this will make it through edits, but here you go.
Walt spent breakfast split between conversations with the people around him and Robert’s continued interrogation about the exact nature of stuffies. The noise and constant barrage of questions from Robert was overwhelming. He announced he needed to get to the base, and told Robert they would have to talk about the stuffed animals later, just to give himself a moment of quiet. That didn’t last long, though. At the base a small group of people were loading bags into a transport.
September 22, 2025 at 10:02 PM
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In which Brian loses it
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“I was imprisoned for like a month, then out of the blue I was made to come here. Which, by the way, WAS THE PLACE I WAS SUPPOSED TO COME TO ALL ALONG. Now, I’ve been captured again. I'm obviously not much of a soldier. I don't have any information. My only real talent is playing trombone which, let me tell you, doesn't really come in handy these days. All that to say, I'm pretty sure you know why I'm here more than I do so why don't you just. Fucking. TELL ME.”
September 20, 2025 at 11:29 AM