Ivers are brutal, but they can be bargained with.
Ivory Mud
by Lucy Grecu | Jan 15, 2026 | Fantasy, Featured, Fiction, Horror
Lucy Grecu
Lucy is currently a second-year apprentice at The Company. She grew up in Los Angeles, California, and spent nearly every summer doing musical theater camp. Lucy spends her time drawing fictional characters, reading novels very slowly, and getting her friends to watch every movie she considers a classic. You can find her at LucyGrecu.com, where she blogs about the mundane curiosities of life!
Ivory Mud
Sense & Sentimentality
“You’d think, once you’d hit twenty-eight, you’d stop being a pain in the ass…”
Submissions Open: Paid Publishing Opportunity — Print Edition of The Pearl
You have the chance to be a part of something awesome. We are releasing the first volume of a new literary magazine, called The Abalone, this spring and we want to feature YOUR work in it. Submissions are officially open!
Win Big and Get Published – Free Writing Contest
If you want to get published to The Pearl, I have an awesome opportunity for you. The Company is hosting a fall writing contest! Write a short story on the theme “Out Of Time” and submit it to The Company for a chance to see your story published here on The Pearl and win $100. It’s free to enter and open to everyone!
Are You Ready To Laugh?
Hey, Pearl fans! I have some exciting news for you. As the managing editor, I’m going to be making some changes to The Pearl this year! We’ll be revamping our website, giving it a new look and a new logo. We’ll also be implementing new kinds of content, with an...
Eel Infested Waters
Dig and his brother floated in the dark waters of Trisbrine, back-to-back on a raft made out of driftwood that had previously been their father’s boat. Dig was rowing steadily onwards into empty ocean, using a large wooden pot lid as an oar. As he blinked away the slight sting of salt water seeping into his eyes, he observed the tranquil nothingness surrounding him…
Stop and Eat the Roses
Look—it’s not easy being the Easter Bunny. It’s not that I don’t like painting all those eggs—I do. And it’s not the manual labor aspect; I don’t even hide the eggs, ok, the pixies do that. What sucks is the social expectation. Easter is a real community-driven holiday, you know? Everyone’s always getting together to barbecue or something, and I just…I don’t do that whole “social” thing. But somehow people always seem to expect me to party and picnic and talk about my “process” and “where do you see yourself in five years” and honestly I’d rather watch paint dry.
The Humminghouse
The dead—or, I guess, the undead—don’t do much when left alone, they just sit and wait in a twisted cycle of decaying and un-decaying. But they can smell you, and they move fast and quiet, like air through the vents.
The Draft in the Walls
But above it all, there was a draft in the walls. It was subtle, like someone breathing down your neck. It wasn’t the sort of draft that could be felt all the time—no, sometimes it just lingered in the air, hanging nearly imperceivable, creeping like watchful eyes that are ever behind you no matter how often you look over your shoulder.