People Live Here is a collection of true story fragments.
When we moved to Roseburg, Oregon, we thought we were starting over — a fresh page, a safe nest.
Instead, we found ourselves one cracked and foiled windowpane away from homelessness. Pregnant, broke, clinging to the last place that would take us: a crumbling roadside motel, Room 25.
Outside that kitchen window, life staggered by — addiction, sirens, hope, collapse.
We watched. We listened. We wrote.
These aren't sanitized memoirs.
They’re stitched together from scorched journal pages, whispered confessions through broken doors, and long, haunted stares through cracked blinds.
The characters are real. The wreckage was lived.
The stitching — that’s ours.
We didn’t just survive there.
We worked magick there.
When polite society would’ve thrown us into the storm, we built a life raft out of ritual.
We studied sacred texts by candlelight.
We called down angels — Sandalphon, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, Michael, Metatron.
We prayed. We affirmed. We invoked.
We bled for a better timeline.
And then — we chose the unthinkable:
We chose to bring our baby into this ruin.
Not in a hospital. In Room 25.
Inside those rotting walls, thick with black mold and broken locks, our magick filled the air heavier than fear ever could.
We will tell it all here:
📖 The full People Live Here storybook — stitched myths, scorched truths, journal fragments disguised as fiction.
📷 Visuals — the mold, the rats, the pregnancy, the homelessness — every ugly, beautiful inch of it.
✍️ Personal writings from Loui Crow and Sarlon White — voices that refused to go silent.
Two voices.
One vow:
To tell the story no one else could see.
Because you don’t really know how people live —
Until you live there too.
And you don’t know the power of magick —
Until it’s the only thing keeping you afloat.
Welcome to Room 25.
Welcome to the edge.
Welcome to People Live Here.
People Live Here: VINCE - RENTROPY
Vince doesn’t count people. He counts occupancy rates, eviction notices, profit margins—and migraines grinding behind his eyes. As the Rosetta Motel collapses into moldy ruin, he forwards emails, logs damage reports, and mutters lies about maintenance while tenants gasp for air and rats dance through the walls. “Rentropy” is an autopsy of late-stage capitalism in real time: no heroes, no salvation, just the slow, desperate pulse of survival under a system designed to forget you exist.
People Live Here: GORDON - VOIDCTRL
We meet a man who has traded all feeling for control. Dressed in wealth, armed with detachment, he returns to the crumbling motel he owns—but refuses to fix—to face desperate tenants fighting for air and dignity. Beneath the rain and rot, Gordon’s polished exterior can't hide the decay he carries inside. This story peels back the layers of power, pride, and profound emotional disconnection. Readers will feel the sharp ache of systems built on abandonment—and the slow, poisonous pride that keeps them standing.
People Live Here: DUSTIN - MARKED
Dustin isn’t marked by hope — he’s marked by staying too long in rooms already collapsing.
This story captures a motel room full of broken dreams, small engine parts, and hard conversations.
As the power flickers and knocks rattle the door, Dustin faces the wreckage of his life, Marlowe stands unfazed, and survival becomes a quiet, bitter prayer.
This isn't a story about redemption.
It's a story about how sometimes you just endure — and that leaves its own scars.
People Live Here: JONAS - MARKED
Jonas doesn’t learn about strength from superheroes.
He learns it from Caleb — a man who doesn’t flinch at rats, mold, or broken spaces.
This chapter is about the sacred moment when a boy realizes strength isn’t noise — it’s standing your ground quietly.
It’s about learning through watching.
Marking yourself not with perfection, but survival.
People Live Here: JUNE - CATSNRATS
In this chapter, June (Loui) and Jack (Sarlon) sit together in a sterile clinic waiting room, feeling the quiet judgment of a world that doesn’t know what to do with people like them. The blog captures the quiet dignity of showing up real in a system that prefers compliance and sameness. It’s a meditation on bodily autonomy, survival, and refusing to shrink yourself for sterile spaces. Readers are invited into the raw moment of what it feels like to be seen — but not recognized.
And the sacred act of staying anyway.
People Live Here: LENA - WAYNE'S TEARDROP
This short story, told from the perspective of Lena, a motel tenant, delves into the fragile humanity of Raymond, a man haunted by grief but still clinging to small moments of connection. As Lena watches him navigate his rough life at the motel, we explore themes of loss, hope, and the silent understandings that pass between neighbors. It’s a quiet story of compassion amidst chaos, where even the smallest gesture — like sharing a cigarette — holds deep meaning.
People Live Here: JACK - DEALDONE
This is a snapshot of survival in a place falling apart from the inside out. It's about the slow, quiet terror that lingers when survival isn’t just about shelter — it’s about dignity, connection, and holding onto hope in a world that forgets people like them. Through the metaphor of the rats, the story captures the helplessness, grit, and sacred stubbornness of staying human even when the walls themselves seem ready to swallow you.
Even in decay, even in the forgotten corners of the world — connection, witness, and quiet courage remain sacred acts.
Sometimes survival itself is an act of holy rebellion.
People Live Here Journal Entry: Chewed-Up Bubblegum and Building Our Own Heaven
This is a journal entry woven into myth. It tells the story of leaving behind the medical system, the culture of control, and trusting the sacred wisdom of the body. It captures the fear, relief, magick, and beauty of choosing an unassisted home birth — a reclamation of dignity, sovereignty, and trust in divine timing. It's about surrendering to the tides of real life and building heaven inside the broken places.
People Live Here Journal Entry: Magick Between Broken Walls
This entry captures life at the edge of survival, pregnancy, and magick. Through daily rituals, personal shifts, and stitched prayers, it explores how small acts of devotion rebuild hope inside wreckage. It's about fear, healing, fierce tenderness — and the refusal to give up.
People Live Here: JUNE - DEALDONE
This story captures the moment we unknowingly signed away our rights and stepped into a new life inside a decaying motel.
Through stray cats, broken promises, and moldy walls, we met the people who taught us the rules of survival here — rules written in sirens, rot, and silent agreements.
This isn’t just a story about moving in. It’s a story about what it costs to stay standing when no one’s coming to save you.