Harper Lewis

Joined July 2025

174 stories

Bio

I'm a subversive weirdo nerd witch who loves rocks. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction may have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈

My words are mine. Suggest ai use and get eviscerated.

MA English literature, CofC

Achievements (10)

Stories (174)

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Oh, Romeo
Dear Romeo, This is a bit awkward, but I’ve had misgivings ever since you asked me to call you “Butt Love.” I understand that boys like to experiment with their friends, but this is a balcony too far. After all, I am a Capulet. What’s in a name matters more when the name isn’t Montague.
By Harper Lewisabout 10 hours ago in Fiction
Medea Gets Fleeced
Dear Medea, First, thank you for the sheep—I wouldn’t be where I am today without them. However, you betrayed your father and brother so I might have them, and, well, having forsaken them, you sort of screwed me out of your dowry. Also, how can I have faith in your loyalty? What if Odysseus sailed past and you fell in love with him, betraying me? I don’t have room for that kind of doubt in my life.
By Harper Lewisabout 11 hours ago in Fiction
Common Problem
There was a girl who was a Maguire— a perfect life she tried to acquire. She lamented her fate, spewed lots of hate, And everyone of her grew tired.
By Harper Lewisabout 13 hours ago in Poets
The Benefits of Writing Porn. Content Warning.
I’m here today to talk about how writing porn (erotica, romance, whatever you call writing that readers derive sexual pleasure from) enhances and improves other writing. It does this in multiple ways, if you have the ovaries or cajones to really go for it. I can hear the Pollyannas clutching their pearls from here, see the shocked, judgmental looks aimed like lasers at me for daring to put romance as a parenthetical of porn (which is where it belongs).
By Harper Lewisabout 23 hours ago in Writers
Dear John,. Content Warning.
Spring is in the air, so let’s focus on love letters (kind of)—specifically, Dear John letters. Have you ever written one? Received one? Here’s your chance.
By Harper Lewisa day ago in Writers
Tornado Watch
Cold snap coming, set to collide right smack into the warm front, possibly spawning tornadoes cyclones twisters, snapping treetops like matchsticks,
By Harper Lewisa day ago in Poets
Magic wand. Content Warning.
There once was a girl who loved magic What happened to her was tragic She had no wand, so she used her baton. And in the end, she had to vag it.
By Harper Lewisa day ago in Poets
Take Off Your Prose!. Content Warning.
Welcome to the Temple of the Profane. I know, right? Whodathunk I’d ever encourage end rhyme? If it’s offensive, I’m okay with it. Grab a pint of Guinness or Jameson’s and don’t tell me “dirty limerick” is redundant. I’m well aware that if it isn’t dirty, it’s not a true limerick. But some people try to ruin a good time with some puritan Pollyanna bullshit every chance they get. I’ve read some clean limericks, and there’s something about them that’s more wrong than an olive in a Bloody Mary or a stalk of celery in a fucking martini. If I can figure out how, I’ll fine anyone who tries to sneak a clean limerick in here, and I’ll press criminal charges if sentimentality enters the equation. It has no place outside of Hallmark cards and movies, and we’re not dumbing down this room.
By Harper Lewisa day ago in Writers
Gen X
We were born into the Cold War, grew up in the era of Moscow on the Hudson, Yakov Smirnoff, and Mikhail Baryshnikov. We wore leg warmers and knew Jane Fonda from her workout videos and On Golden Pond. We saw E.T. phone home and pitied the fool with Mr. T.
By Harper Lewis2 days ago in Critique
Kevin’s Wedding. Content Warning.
As you all know, Kevin and I were roommates at Duke, then for a few years after graduation, until he and Sloane moved in together. I remember Sloane’s friends cautioning her against moving in without a ring, that she’d never get one if she shacked up without one, but I knew that for Kevin, moving in with Sloane would lead us here.
By Harper Lewis2 days ago in Fiction
Boxing
When I was in my mid-thirties, I joined the Augusta Boxing Club on Walton Way. The subtitle is the club motto, and I saw guys wearing t-shirts emblazoned with sayings like “Fighting solves EVERYTHING.” I was the only woman, and I swear I got high on the testosterone.
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Writers
Phony Bologna . Content Warning.
Nothing lights my fire like false accusations, wood for the pyre to burn this witch with justification. But I don’t weigh the same as a duck
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Poets