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Fictional Worlds

I live in fictional worlds because I want to believe something unbelievable, something I cannot find in the space around me. I want to visit a world better than the one I know. I create stories to mask the one I carry with me, bringing weight to my chest when I inhale. It crawls beneath my skin, prowling, waiting for me to slice myself open and set it loose into reality. I have written about hidden worlds, fantastical monsters, and magical powers to avoid putting myself on the page. I write books in hopes they will attach to my brain and replace the memories that refuse to leave without a grand exit. I want my own story to be written by someone else, just another fiction novel sitting on the shelf of an old, forgotten bookstore, dusty and untouched. After all, my story could easily be fake. I hide the scars under layers of clothing. To the naked eye, the story could be hyperbole or stolen from a bad movie. I have been accused of lying for attention before. It would be easier to lie about something fictional than to lie about the truth. Maybe then the stories I make up to escape would finally suffice.

Nichelle Taylor (she/her) is a lifelong writer. To read her work, please visit

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Published in issue 5


Published in issue 5


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