I woke up this morning to a prompt from Tamsin G.: “Write a story as a gift to someone here on Substack”.
This story is for all of you readers. But it is also a gift for Tamsin herself. And, KJ Harlow, whose Slice of Death series (though I am still not even halfway through reading!) has had a lasting impact on me. Please give each of them a follow and enjoy their fantastic writing. So, without further ado, here is my story inspired by Tamsin’s prompt and KJ’s Slice of Death:
TW: This is somewhat autobiographical. Earlier this year, I was going through a severe depression, right before I joined Substack. While I tried to present it in the coziest way possible, please be aware that it’s a sensitive topic.
There once was a little chaos goblin with entire worlds inside her head. She’d invite others to visit, but few wanted to stay.
She’d write them stories that sat unread. It turns out her words were better left unsaid. She was too snarky, too honest, too dramatic, so they shoved her into a more palatable box.
On the outside, she appeared well-behaved. But inside her box, she drew on the walls and etched sonnets into her skin. And though she was close enough to socially acceptable, deep down, her spirit wore thin.
One fateful day, darkness crept into her picture-perfect cage.
No one will ever love the real you. You’re a dumpster fire, a hot mess, a mistake. Your stories are terrible. Cringe. A complete waste.
So she threatened to seal off her stories for good. Erase herself from memory. Melt into the abyss.
But just before she succumbed to Darkness’s embrace, a bright light drew her away. She followed it into a land of orange and white, a vast digital landscape where stories came to life.
Out of the blue, a Cozy Queen took her hand and said, “Come on, let’s play tag.”
So the chaos goblin hopped into the fray. She frolicked with fairies, flew with dragons, sailed with pirates, and ate pastries with vampires. Finally, she introduced her own characters, set the table for a mad little tea party. To her surprise, people gathered around to share snacks, fun facts, and punny jokes.
Before long, the Chaos Goblin had more friends than she’d ever imagined possible. Her stories found homes in the hearts of a few who always returned for more. Kindred spirits who bore witness to her rough edges without trying to sand them down.
Finally, she’d tasted a slice of belonging. It was the sweetest thing in the world.
But there was always one part of herself she kept hidden—so much so that she took it to her grave…
And in that very distant future, the Chaos Goblin met Death’s apprentice (though he’s since been promoted). They sat together on the edge of time, people watching.
“Hello again, mate,” Death said, “How goes the reading?”
She replied, “Good. I’ve almost finished reading your story.”
Death smiled, placing his hand on her hunched shoulder. “I was watching, you know. All those years ago. The night you almost left. But I’m so glad you stayed.”
The Chaos Goblin chuckled. “The stories wouldn’t let me go.”
“They can be quite persuasive.” Death nodded.
Quiet settled between them like a warm blanket. Death’s scythe began to glow, flashing through all the senses, but never landing on one.
“Even your scythe can’t figure me out,” Chaos Goblin snickered.
“What is it, do you think, keeping you here?” Death asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“There is a secret I buried deep,” Chaos Goblin whispered, “Something few knew. But I’ve always wanted to set it free.”
Death grasped the scythe, which had been caught in a three-way tie.
SIGHT
SOUND
TOUCH
“You desire to be seen, heard, felt,” he mused, “But haven’t you already done that? Allowed yourself to be perceived? You’ve written countless stories, shared with thousands of souls.”
The goblin’s lips curled upward. Death knew, but Ever the gentleman, he was waiting for her to say it on her own.
“Do you want me to come back later?” he asked.
“No, no,” Chaos Goblin said, drawing a ghostly breath. “I’ve wasted enough time.”
Death selected all three senses. A kaleidoscope of colorful orbs coalesced in front of them, morphing into the Goblin’s trusty old laptop. The Notes page was already pulled up on that familiar orange site.
Death patted her back in encouragement. She clapped him back so hard his eternal bones rattled.
“Come on, we don’t have all of eternity,” he jested with a cough.
“Fine, fine,” the goblin cracked her knuckles and grazed her fingertips over the keys.
“Hello from beyond the grave, my friends. I’m glad to see you’re still enjoying my stories. But there is something I’ve been holding back. Something unspoken, keeping my soul tethered.”
She paused, hovering over the delete key.
“No,” Death gently nudged her away from it. “You can do this.”
She knew he was right. She could. And she would.
“So, my dear readers, if I am ever to leave this liminal Between, I must confess: You have long known me by one name. But it was never truly mine. So before I go, I wish to say…”
The goblin paused. This was the final stretch. The last push. The moment of truth.
Her temporarily corporal hands, tattooed with every word she’d ever shared (and some she hadn’t) typed her famous last words:
Hello, my REAL name is…”
Thank you for reading.
Some of you know my real name. Some don’t. But someday, I hope I can be brave. And feel safe enough. Hopefully, before I’m a ghost. haha.
For now, Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and to all, a good night.
Love,
Hallie (J)
This was very touching. 🥺 I enjoyed the Slice of Death crossover.
KJ does such a great job with final moments, treating them with dignity. Having Death visit Chaos Goblin is such a great way to tell this story.
It’s hard to reveal our true selves. But is that our given name, or the one we make for ourself?
Love it.