Aeden Romeyn
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lettucealone.bsky.social
Aeden Romeyn
@lettucealone.bsky.social
85 followers 50 following 320 posts
Queer & Disabled Artist 🎨 Writer 📖 Purveyor of Hopeful Horrors 🫀
Read my work for free at
aedenromeyn.wordpress.com
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lettucealone.bsky.social
Miss Hally is the landlady of Serenity House and everyone’s symbolic grandmother. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #HorrorWriters #Writing #BookSky
Miss Lorelei Hally was a pale, willowy woman who couldn’t rightly be called old. She looked somewhere between sixty and ninety, and nobody in Sallowsgrove was going to ask the kind lady her age. She had salt-and-pepper hair braided over one shoulder, an abundance of laugh lines, and leathery fingers knotted like tree branches. She ripped a volunteer name tag off her sweater, folded it neatly, and put it in the pocket of her dress. “I must give my deepest apologies, Mr. Guidry,” Miss Hally drawled.
October 6, 2025 at 2:22 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From a flash piece “The Kennel.” I’m thinking of expanding this to be longer, as I am filled with rage over current events. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #Writing #HorrorWriters
Through the day and night, my cousins howl. I’ve never known a pack like this. There are so many of us in one place, but no mothers and fathers to lead, no brushing snouts, no tittering pups to teach. We call for unfamiliar creatures in tongues unknown to one another. I am surrounded by brothers and sisters but have never been so alone. What creature lives like this? At first, I thought of the salmon run, but even when the fish fall over each other, scraping fins and scales and pouring over rapids like a second river themselves, at least they are free.
October 2, 2025 at 4:43 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
The main character of my post-apocalyptic ecological short story, the Half-Life of Giants, is named River! #WriteSky #Writing #WIPSnips #ShortStories #Sci-Fi
The giant faced River. A white goat leaped from a gap in its grinning teeth, pranced across the bone, and landed in the soft grass to graze. Vines crept up the giant’s arms and looped in complicated patterns around its rib cage. Behind the bone and foliage was its heart. It beat like a drum and glowed amber-orange in the giant’s chest. The giant reached out a colossal hand to yank an overgrown mushroom out of the ground, sending a cloud of white dust falling over River. She scrambled away and into the stream. The cover for the Half Life of Giants by Aeden Romeyn. It depicts a colossal skeleton in the rain
October 1, 2025 at 6:42 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Sometimes I get so in my head about how behind I am as a creator. Then my migraine tracker is like, “Hey, you had a 37-day-long migraine this time last year, and still made and published a short story zine that November, cut yourself some slack.” #WriteSky #Disability #ChronicIllness #Migraines
September 30, 2025 at 10:32 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Rest in Power, Assata Shakur

📕 Freedom is Constant Struggle, Angela Davis

#BookSky #WriteSky #Politics
“Assata’s legacy represents a mandate to broaden and deepen antiracist struggles. In her autobiography published this year, evoking the Black radical tradition of struggle, she asks us to “Carry it on. / Pass it down to the children. / Pass it down. Carry it on … / To Freedom!”
September 29, 2025 at 4:16 AM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Morpho didius | Giant Blue Morpho

I took a big pinning class and had an absolute blast.

#bugs #insects #butterflies #bugsky
September 23, 2025 at 6:43 AM
lettucealone.bsky.social
A poem I started for my first cat, and finished for all the others she sent my way 💙

#WriteSky #BookSky #PoetrySky #writing #poetry #cats #pets #WritingCommunity #writers #poets #CatSky
The Writing Desk By Aeden Romeyn Yeti-furred, jingle-belled, dragon of the writing desk– you destroyed the varnish in the wallow where you rest. Grand-dad’s vintage study tarnished by your sopping paws, blemished with tears and tea cups broken before the dawn. You’ve stripped the wood to stripes and stamped your feet in ink– like pawprints in the tiled terracotta, so I think, “Who were you, little cat? Whose forgotten paws are these? Who was missing you when you pattered across the frieze?” My memories will fade, but this desk I won’t repair. Let it fossilize just to remind me you were there.
September 8, 2025 at 3:54 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From “The Kennel.” This short story dissects the violence of prey animals vs the violence of victims a bit, cornered creatures, why horses are not at fault for biting back but the oppressed are, etc. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #writing #Horror #WritingHorror #HorrorWriters
I remind myself then not of the hunter I am, but of the prey I feel I have become. I am the buffalo trapped against a cliff face, the rat in the serpent’s jaws, the doe whose hooves have killed more than I ever will. This is not hunting.
August 19, 2025 at 5:37 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From an early chapter of DATR, in which Juliet has a hard time on New Years. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #BookSky #Writing #HorrorWriting #HorrorWriters
Snow fell lightly over the rugged fields around Serenity House like a white blanket pushed aside after waking. Ice hung from the eaves of the house and the bows of the willow behind it. Juliet watched snowflakes drift to the window, hit the glass, and dissolve into nothing; each one a wish that never came true, a loved one forgotten, there and then gone because nobody cared to see them. In Juliet’s ear, her sister made excuses.
August 18, 2025 at 7:34 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From an early chapter of DATR, my horror WIP. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #Writers #HorrorWriting #HorrorWriters #BookSky #Horror
Sofie could only see the black roots that sprouted from the woodgrain of the house to wind up and up his legs, crawling, spiraling higher and around his torso. They split and spread to his wrist, then stretched and snapped into many fibers. He lifted his hand to wave, oblivious to the things constricting him.
August 13, 2025 at 12:32 AM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Let’s go with vibes. Here’s the first description of the overgrown garden of Serenity House and the willow tree there, the first time Noel sees it. From “Dead at the Root.” #WIPSnips #WriteSky #Writers #BookSky #Horror #HorrorWriters #HorrorBooks
The great house was overrun with yarrow, blazingstars, buffelgrass, and all manner of plants native and invasive alike; natural chaos that paled in sight of the empyrean willow. It presided over Serenity House and the acres of brown grasses like a castle. Noel’s vision tunneled until the willow was all he could see. The cold wind blew the curtain of bare branches open for just a moment. He felt then, as he had often felt before, like he was being watched.
August 10, 2025 at 8:40 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
I wrote this last week because I had a brain worm eating at me. I have no idea where it’s going. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #fantasy #grimdark #BookSky #Writing #Writers
The castle was barely standing with its flags in ribbons, drawbridge lame, and towers like rusted spears jutting from the mountainside. One solitary light flickered in a tower window. The glow stood out against the endless ashen night around it. In the distance, flanked by snowy peaks and guarded by the labyrinth of ice and bramble below, the castle had seemed legendary. It had taken the talents and lives of two dozen warriors in my tribe, beside myself, to break through the castle’s defences. Many days and lost lives later, I stand in the shadow of this once great fortress and feel only pity.
August 7, 2025 at 4:18 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
The world is now an arid wasteland ravaged monstrous storms & shapeshifters are emerging from the dust—what three items are in your pack?

This quote comes from my #scifi short story, available for free at the post pinned on this account! #WriteSky #BookSky #Apocalypse #fantasy #QueerWriters
The storm returns. It encompasses the horizon, a great thundering wall of heavy dust, blackened with the life it has consumed. Not that there is much life left to swallow in these wastes, cracked with drought like a fractured pot. Rain will come with it. It will congeal with the sand and the heat, creating a deluge of mud, not water. It's a small consolation for this desolation.
August 6, 2025 at 10:16 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From a cosmic horror short story anthology I wrote in college about a dead ship that docks at what is essentially a militant intergalactic gas station. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #SciFi #Horror #HorrorWriting #CosmicHorror #ShortStories #Writing #Writers
The ship clicks into place aboard the station. Air locks are sealed. The loading ramp extends out onto the floor of the station. No crew greets the docksmen. Fatima and Erik share concerned glances. She expresses her concern to Xenia and Juno at the command center, where the two of them watch the scene unfold from their screens. Xenia tries making contact with the ship again. She found their frequency — she knows it by heart, she always does — but nobody answers. She frowns. Juno sees the gears turning in her head, the furrowing of her eyebrows. “I’m coming down to meet you. Erik, come up to troubleshoot comms with Xenia.” Erik scoffs. “Boss, I know these ships better than all of you. What do you think I was building back on Sideris? Let me go with you.”
August 5, 2025 at 3:29 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
I don’t have the word “friends” in my WIP, apparently, so here is a snippet of friendships. #QueerWriters #WriteSky
Noel filled a travelling cup with coffee and clinked the metal top of it to Juliet’s mug. She met the toast halfheartedly. “If you find yourself bored before the festivities, Luci’s home all day. She could use some company, I think.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “Not my company.” Noel raised an eyebrow. “Are you guys … alright?” “We’re fine,” Juliet said with a shrug. “We just don’t get along well.” Noel stared at Juliet with an expression that made her shoulders wilt. He had a pair of heavy-lidded, hazel-brown eyes that drooped in the corners like a painting washing away in the rain. They made him appear somber, or maybe he was somber and his features frowned beneath the weight of all his sorrow. She was reminded that he had grown up tending a graveyard. She wondered how many funerals he’d watched, how many graves he’d dug and planted over with grass, how many different faces of grief he’d witnessed. Noel had proclaimed himself to be not much of a people person, but sometimes Juliet was intimidated by how easily he read people. “She’d like to see you, I think,” Noel reiterated.
August 4, 2025 at 9:49 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
For context, Luci and Noel are both #queer, and they’re (lovingly) joking about the straight couple in their friend group who can’t keep their hands off each other. Noel is notably #aroace. #QueerWriters #lgbtqwriters #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #Writing #QueerCharacters
Luci gagged overdramatically, making Sofie laugh. “I'd call that puppy love, but they've been at it since before I moved here two months ago.” “Well, I don’t get it, but far be it from me to judge someone’s lifestyle,” Noel said, really emphasizing the twang in lifestyle. Sofie didn’t get the joke, but Luci laughed.
August 3, 2025 at 7:20 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Noel’s first morning at Serenity House as the new groundskeeper. Already hating the sentence structure 😂 Also, as someone guilty of involuntary plantslaughter, id love to hear from real #gardeners about your relationships to your gardens to help build this character. #WIPSnips #Writing #WriteSky
Noel slept fitfully and rose with the dawn. He could see most of the property from the bedroom window. The sky was still dark, but a tangerine glow lurked on the distant horizon. Everything from the field to the willow tree was a desaturated blue. Miss Hally had offered to give Noel a tour of the garden in the morning, but he wanted to get a good look at the property and its challenges beforehand. He trusted that Miss Hally had done her fair share of gardening, but even knowledgeable people had a tendency to oversimplify the natural world, to break it down into component parts, into a language they understand. Noel felt it was easier to let the land speak for itself first.
August 3, 2025 at 7:03 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Late to the party tonight. This #WIPSnips features Noel and Luci, my two #transgender main characters from my WIP horror novel. They’ve just become roommates after not seeing each other for over a decade. #WriteSky #QueerWriters #HorrorWriters #QueerCharacters
As Noel put away the last of his things, he tried to engage in small talk. He asked questions like, “How have things been since high school?” Luci, in return, asked about his relationship with his parents, his religion, and why he chose to come to Serenity House. Noel had answered each question with stammering half-truths, but Luci saw through every one.
August 3, 2025 at 6:27 AM
lettucealone.bsky.social
One of my favorite passages from my WIP horror novel, “Dead at the Root.”
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #HorrorWriters #WritingCommunity #Writing #WIPs #Writers
“What the fuck were you thinking! It’s hot!” Juliet squeakily shouted the way she did when Sofie did something that scared her. She tugged Sofie’s hand to her to see the damage. Sofie winced. Her mom immediately dropped her hands. Sofie hadn’t meant to burn herself. She had watched her mother unthinkingly set the metal tongs down directly on the grill while she argued with Luci, again, and Sofie’s mind drifted to a daydream. The tongs had grown hotter by the second. She could see her mother, aggravated and off-task, going to pick up the tongs and burning her hand. In this daydream, her mother jerks away with a pained expression, but the grill is far too close to the corner of the picnic bench behind her. Her left leg catches the seat. She falls backwards. Nobody had noticed the shard of bottle glass that stuck out of the dirt like a mountain peak, sharp and gleaming amber in the sunlight. Nobody but Sofie. Sofie knew, as one knows the dreams they’ve forgotten but remember again at the right smell or song, that her mom’s red hair would be indistinguishable from her blood when the shard sliced straight through her skull. As her mom finished throwing a jab at Luci, she reached for the tongs, and Sofie leapt into action without a second thought. She got in the way. Her mom jostled her into the grill. So, Sofie had burnt her hand and she had saved her mother. For the third time.
July 31, 2025 at 11:16 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From a piece of flash fiction I wrote, “The Kennel,” in which a wolf is captured as a stray dog and has some shit to say about it.
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #HorrorWriters #HorrorBooks #BookSky #LitFic #WIPs #WritingCommunity
I remind myself then not of the hunter I am, but of the prey I feel I have become. I am the buffalo trapped against a cliff face, the rat in the serpent’s jaws, the doe whose hooves have killed more than I ever will. This is not hunting. I will not sup on this creature I have slain. The only use for its innards is to paint me life-red like the warrior bands of a coral snake. Look upon me, meek and chained, and know I will still bite. The warden in the other cage turns around to see the commotion, then drops the dog in surprise. She doesn’t take long. The warden is not yet fully turned around when she darts quickly between its legs, throwing it off balance, and runs for freedom. I make my pursuit, knocking over the guard on the way.
July 29, 2025 at 9:08 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
I’m currently reading “Slewfoot” by Brom and I’m crashing out, get Wallace A W A Y from me, that NASTY dumbass. If this rat bastard doesn’t die with his pants down by the end of this book I’m absolutely going to lose my mind

#BookSky #HorrorBooks #Witches #Reading #Slewfoot
July 29, 2025 at 7:43 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
I finally read “What Moves the Dead” by T Kingfisher. Personally, I loved this book, but I think it could have been so much more if detached from Poe’s work, inspired rather than retold. What do you think? #BookSky #BookReviews #TKingfisher #HorrorBooks #HorrorReaders #Reading
July 28, 2025 at 3:27 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
From my completed-but-needs-editing short story “The Ornithology of the End Times,” in which a photojournalist studies a new species of bird that’s appeared in the midst of the city succumbing to the ravages of war and fascism. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #BookSky #WritingCommunity #Writing #ShortStories
I was taking the trash out when I found it. I took a photograph, of course, because I might as well use the good film while I have it. You would be able to tell me the answer to this question: What bird makes its nest out of glass? That strange bird had used the shattered glass from our kitchen window to make it. I’ve seen a lot of bird nests since I met you, but I can’t discern what the bird finds comforting about that crown of crystal thorns. When we met, it was because of something like this. Birds doing things they’re not supposed to. Do you remember? You were researching swallows, trying to learn the secrets of their perseverance.
July 28, 2025 at 3:06 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
I wrote this for a class many years ago. It’s a weird short story about a young orphan who learns she’s a princess when seven animated severed kings’ heads appear to crown her Queen. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #FantasyWriters
“You are supposed to make her feel better, son,” King Gregor I said. “Come down to my level, Princess, if you’d please.” His green-tinged decrepit head bounced across the stone floor, the bones echoing slightly wherever the stump of his neck hit the floor. Cecelia stared into the static darkness inside his skull. He had no eyes to speak of. But he must have had kind eyes, once, Cecelia thought. She couldn’t see them now, but his brow was smooth and wrinkled at the corners like he had spent his life smiling. They must have been kind eyes.
July 24, 2025 at 5:55 PM
lettucealone.bsky.social
Thank you @wipsnips.bsky.social for this one because I just realized I used “small” about a hundred times in the first three chapters of my novel manuscript … anyway, have the first lines of this short story, free on my website
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #Writers
Lepidopterophobia By Aeden Romeyn The storm returns. It encompasses the horizon, a great thundering wall of heavy dust, blackened with the life it has consumed. Not that there is much life left to swallow in these wastes, cracked with drought like a fractured pot. Rain will come with it. It will congeal with the sand and the heat, creating a deluge of mud, not water. It's a small consolation for this desolation.
July 23, 2025 at 3:12 PM