I am angry, in a delicate and spiteful sort of way. A way that is productive for a writer. I’ve been the ghost in my classroom, unnoticed and untouched. I’ve been the ghoul in the playground running through the campus forests and guarding the rusty metal bike racks. Alone. I’ve been the misunderstood bat flying around, leaving shadows in the wake of its presence and never being seen.
Between the lonely heartache and the nights spent wrapped in the blue dust of forgotten dreams, I write.
Nathalie Daux is a writer. A lonely one who hardly fits in her own community, but a writer nonetheless.
There’s much to explore. Much to dig your hands into and devour as a reader here. It is a playground where shadows play. A place where the outcasts are welcome. I am a silver snake bathed in dark moonlight, hunting for another spirit to shove down my gullet, hunting for the next reader of these tales.