Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
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keychild.bsky.social
Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
@keychild.bsky.social
640 followers 790 following 160 posts
(she/her)

I design things. I write things. I photograph things. I panic about things. Mostly that last one.

edits: @crowkeys.bsky.social

http://eloucarroll.com • http://crowcrosskeys.com
Posts Replies Media Videos
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
Click the link. It's for the best.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/22/l...
An excerpt from flash fiction, Like Mother, Like Son by Riel Rosehill published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a bittern in water with its mouth open wide. The excerpt reads: It was for the best, Mum said. Decent men don’t go on making a child when they find a crying woman alone. Hide now. Stay still. Over the years, I must’ve spent days on my stomach down in the reeds, watching the bittern’s brown-streaked body almost invisible among the golden stems, observing the purple flowers of the reed turning bristly brown, and counting the new goslings while the river flowed in silence.
November 22, 2025 at 6:11 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
There's a great link in this post. Click it.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/19/t...
An excerpt from the poem Huldra by Faye Wikner, published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a close-up of train tracks in the rain. The excerpt reads: There is a great field of wheat by the train tracks; this is where I dance and hold the morning and shrug modern aches off my shoulders. I bring my wet palms to my red cheeks and greet the scavenger bird, we split the words over burrowing hares. She speaks all the languages of the bodies she has eaten.
November 19, 2025 at 6:27 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
All you can think about is the link. Click it.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/16/o...
An excerpt from short story, Our Mother, the Dark Damp Earth by Laila Amado published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a field of plowed soil. The excerpt reads: Nena climbs back under the blanket, but sleep doesn’t come. Lying alone in the cold bed, she feels stiff like a corpse laid out for the wake, and all she can think of is the Dark Mother Earth, barren and waiting for the seeds.
November 16, 2025 at 6:18 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
You waste no time clicking the link. You've clicked it already.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/12/e...
An excerpt from flash fiction, Evening at the County Fair by Laura M Puhl published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring hands palms up holding berries. The excerpt reads: We spend the most tickets at the flower stall, buying strings of carnations to chain ourselves together, then weaving the strands into headbands in a giggling coronation. The florist is kind but her eyes are sad; she slips something into our palms and we thank her, shrugging at the gift, dropping it into our pockets for later.
November 12, 2025 at 6:09 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
You're watching. We know you've seen the link. You should click it.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/08/t...
An excerpt from narrative poem, The Salt in My Bloodline by Rowan Tate published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a flock of seagulls flying against a light background. The excerpt reads: The gulls are watching. They’ve grown fat on grief, the tiny bones of our hope. They scream like midwives, circle each birth with an appetite. What we have to make a life from was never ours: driftwood, flint, rope braided by other hands, hunger, salt-bitter lullabies, the shape of our faces and our daughter’s faces. The sea giveth and the sea taketh away.
November 8, 2025 at 6:13 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
You never believed in the link. But now? Click it. Find out if it's real.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/05/t...
An excerpt from short story, The Witch's Daughter by Alexandra Wingo published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a well in the countryside. The excerpt reads: As a child, I never believed in witchcraft. Then the well water turned to blood. Before that, the misfortunes that visited our village had been easy enough to wave away. The Perne’s cow stopped giving milk. George Brown’s wheat crop was struck with blight. Hard rains swelled the river until it ripped the wheel from the mill like a straw doll from a child’s hands. All attributable to bad weather. Bad luck. Bad choice of location for our humble settlement.
November 5, 2025 at 6:31 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
The link knows you're going to click it before you do.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/11/01/n...
An excerpt from flash fiction, Names Set in Stone by Jennifer Oliver published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a cropped image of letters carved into stone. The excerpt reads: The stone knows the names before the chisels ever touch it. This is the first lesson Oren learns when he arrives at the gravestone quarry. He hears it in the workers’ silences, in the way their voices soften when they approach the stone, the way their eyes linger just a moment too long before lifting the chisel. As if waiting for permission. As if the stone might speak first.
November 1, 2025 at 6:18 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
We showed you the link, click it.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/10/29/a...
An excerpt from poem, After the before, we take care of the wounds by SK Grout published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring an axe embedded into a branch in soft focus. The excerpt reads: Your shoulders are broad enough to lead. You’ve been splitting deceased trees, for the last few days, turning them to firewood, layering muscle into consequence, and I’ve been watching. You showed me, keep them dry.
October 29, 2025 at 6:13 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
ramccafferty.bsky.social
My haunted house/fairy tale hybrid in @crowkeys.bsky.social. crowcrosskeys.com/2025/07/19/a...
a spark suppressed—Rachel Abbey McCafferty
Once upon a time, a girl grew up believing she could marry into princessdom, the ticket price being love. But this was America, so she believed she could become rich and famous based on her natural…
crowcrosskeys.com
October 28, 2025 at 5:19 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
One evening, at about sunset, you click the link.

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/10/25/t...
An excerpt from short story, The Last and First Loves of Hayrum Bellmaker published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring a bell on a string in a shallow depth of field. The excerpt reads: One evening, at about sunset, Hayrum looked to his feet and found a black cat keeping pace with his steps. It wove in and out of the path, slipping into the late summer nettles and parting through the rosinweed before trotting back into view at his heels. Hayrum greeted it gravely, which the cat took as its due. The cat took its leave at a huge old sycamore bole, one with a split down its middle capacious enough to seat a violin quartet. The cat leapt into the hollow’s darkness faster than Hayrum could blink.
October 25, 2025 at 5:14 PM
Reposted by Elou Carroll 🍂 is querying 🍂
crowkeys.bsky.social
When we post the link, we imbue it with gratitude. Click it, won't you?

crowcrosskeys.com/2025/10/22/p...
An excerpt from flash fiction, Patchwork Boy by J.S. Brevik published on crowcrosskeys.com, presented on a muted greyscale banner featuring layers of patchwork material in different patterns. The excerpt reads: When my mother sews me together, she combines many different fabrics. She sews my father’s old football shirts to my brother’s discarded childhood blanket with a serger stitch to ensure I don’t pull apart. She fills my head and chest and limbs with scraps of fabric from an old tablecloth and cut-offs of her many past sewing projects. She fills any empty sections with stuffing from my brother’s old stuffed animals, now ragged with love.
October 22, 2025 at 5:09 PM