Hi, I’m Lizella, and I write stories.
I’m not really a lizard.
I’m especially partial to very short stories with dark or twisty endings. I love to rip apart old classics and put them back together with the seams showing and the stuffing peeking out. I regularly upend expectations. And I stealthily sneak magic into otherwise ordinary situations. Uh oh!
When I’m not dreaming up new ways to torture fairy princesses, I write business journalism under a different pseudonym and try to keep up with one husband, two kids, and four large dogs.
What I’m writing on Medium
The princess and the plague
The princess looks out the airtight window, which contains her like a bug in a bell jar. She wants to feel the hot breath of the desert on her neck, the bite of its sand on her skin. Her lovely face would crease and pucker, but so what? She would, at last, be truly alive.
“I hate being trapped in this train. The recirculated air is suffocating. It’s like prison!”
Her handsome husband stifles an eye roll. He has been to prison, and it is nothing like this train.
Wife, daughter, and dessert
Since Anya was a little girl, her mother had urged her to marry a rich, older man. “Don’t fall in love with a bum like I did,” her mother scolded, tucking stray curls into her messy bun.
Over the years, Anya watched her mother scurry from the field to the barn to the kitchen, sweating for copper while her father prayed for gold. The family’s meals grew smaller and smaller. Her father became thin and soft, like an overcooked noodle. Her mother became thin and hard, like a shard of bone…