They Tried Their Best is a wildly sharp, emotionally layered novella about one woman’s reluctant journey through a collapsing world, bad dates, worse bosses, and the quiet triumph of choosing herself.
Our unnamed narrator is a deeply relatable, darkly funny thirty-something who just wants chips, her dogs, and maybe—if the universe allows it—a real, meaningful connection. But when everything from her love life to global politics begins to unravel, she does the only rational thing: builds a bunker.
As humanity spirals toward its inevitable end, she’s forced to confront what she actually wants from life—and whether survival means living for herself or still hoping to be chosen by someone else.
With biting social commentary, unexpected tenderness, and surreal twists, this novella explores what it means to be loved, to be lonely, and to matter in a world that’s increasingly falling apart.
They Tried Their Best is a wildly sharp, emotionally layered novella about one woman’s reluctant journey through a collapsing world, bad dates, worse bosses, and the quiet triumph of choosing herself.
Our unnamed narrator is a deeply relatable, darkly funny thirty-something who just wants chips, her dogs, and maybe—if the universe allows it—a real, meaningful connection. But when everything from her love life to global politics begins to unravel, she does the only rational thing: builds a bunker.
As humanity spirals toward its inevitable end, she’s forced to confront what she actually wants from life—and whether survival means living for herself or still hoping to be chosen by someone else.
With biting social commentary, unexpected tenderness, and surreal twists, this novella explores what it means to be loved, to be lonely, and to matter in a world that’s increasingly falling apart.
HONEY I’M HOME
I swing open the door and kick off my shoes. “Hey Honey, You will never guess what happened at work today.”
Quick little pitter-patters grow in volume until a mess of chocolate and caramel hair rushes into view. I smile widely. He jumps up towards me, rebounding against my body to climb higher.
I giggle, and grab him, holding him firmly against my chest. “Look at you being so cute.”
He rubs his face against mine and licks ferociously. I rub behind his ears and chin; cooing at him.
“I missed you too much today, Honey. I need to convince my boss to let me work from home. I’m thinking about pasta for dinner. I deserve it. It’s my birthday and I go to the gym, mostly, sometimes. Anyways, pasta sounds great right?”
Honey settles into the nape of my neck and I stroke along his back. I walk towards the fridge and open it up. It’s practically bare aside from a jar of pickles, an unreasonable amount of sauces, cheese and a cake box.
I laugh. “As great as pickle and cheese pasta sounds, I think I’ll order in.”
I walk through to the lounge and slump onto the couch. Honey climbs over my shoulder and lays on the ledge behind my head. I take my phone from my pocket and swipe through. I click onto the food delivery app. I scroll through the options, my hunger making it impossible to choose. I want noodles and dahl curry and sushi and steak. I want to fill my stomach until I feel beyond satisfied, the type of fullness that distracts from all other voids. I sigh, will any of this make me happy? I exit the app, and move onto another that is meant to be for intellectuals to connect through various forums but has since developed into a septic echo chamber. I scroll through the endless questions about sex and general depravity. I click on a news update, and fall into an endless pit of doom reading. Germany has banned free speech, America threatens to claim Canada, Russia and Ukraine begin using ballistic missiles, meteors might end the Earth in 2025, South Africa begins taking land rights from White people, China causes global deforestation, the Middle East is basically just being the Middle East… I would feel so much better about things if I had a bunker. My stomach burns and I flip back to the food app. I put a steak salad into the cart and checkout. I click on the TV and flip through several apps until I find the same thing I watch almost everyday. I can basically repeat it word for word. Somehow it still brings me a sort of comfortable joy. I barely laugh at the jokes or engage with undivided attention but it is like being with people you love who you have known for an incredibly long time. You can anticipate their reactions and feel somewhat safe around them. It might not be exciting but you know you wont get hurt. Or at least you know how you will get hurt. I pick up my phone and scroll through an app that is meant to be for photography but has also turned into porn and reels of nonsense. Honey sits up. His ears twitch this way and that. He rushes towards the door and yaps manically. The door bell rings. I give it a minute, pick Honey up and open the door. No contact is the best thing that came from the global lock down. If it were possible for a drone to deliver my food that would be preferable. I snatch my food off of the porch and lock myself back up. I put honey down gently. He’s now content having seen we have no visitors. I walk back to the couch and unpack the bag. I open up the plastic cutlery and cardboard container. I eat with my eyes on the TV, but I barely take in the flavour or the show. Instead I exist inside in screensaver mode; deep inside my mind and fully numb. I scrape the last of the salad onto my fork and take the container back to the bin. I open the fridge and take out the cake box. I fetch my lighter and return to the lounge. I open the box, pull out my designer cupcake and light the candle in the shape of thirty. I sing quietly to myself and blow out the flame. I delicately remove the candle and lick off the frosting. I put it to the side and bite into the cupcake. Cake isn’t as good as it used to be. The idea of it is always better than the reality, most likely because the memory of it is linked to sweeter times- childhood parties, weddings and big achievements. There’s a time in your life where everything feels so full of celebration. Each effort made grants for award. Then you enter the workforce and everyday becomes the same. It’s like a living nightmare. I have the same conversations with the same people regardless of where I work. We are all a part of the problem. All of us clocking in and out to enjoy distilled water and food with a quarter of the typical nutrients. I huff and frown at the cupcake. I chuck it in the bin and check my watch: ten to nine pm. I walk to the bathroom with Honey following beneath my feet, pick up my tooth brush and examine myself in the mirror. I wonder how much it would cost to make your jawline more pronounced. I put some toothpaste on the brush and clean my teeth. I look at all the various angles in which my chin is unpleasing. Maybe I could blackout my neck. Tess will lecture me heavily and the rest of my family will gossip about how atrocious it looks. I think I would like it though and honestly I don’t see how it would make much of a difference at this point. I spit and rinse out my mouth, cleaning the sink as I go. I wash my face and pat it dry, before applying blush stain, a sleep mask and lip serum. I should probably start getting Botox soon. Tess looks the same age as me now because of Botox. Honey jumps up onto my leg, his eyes full of adoration and pleading.
“I know little, but I can’t let you in the bed because you pee everywhere.”
He scratches his nails against my calve and whimpers. A weight tugs down on my heart. I need to get him a friend. I hate knowing he sleeps alone now. I don’t know what will stop him from peeing on the bed though and I can’t sleep in a bed full of pee so we are at a bit of an impasse.
“One more episode, then I’ll go to bed, okay?”
I pick him up, hugging him tightly to my chest. I walk us into the lounge and put the show back on. I hit play and lay down. He snuggles into me. I pet him lazily as I mumble along to the theme song. Oh shit this is when they break up. Skip. The theme song plays again. I think it’s lazy writing to have the main couple break up to increase the tension. There are so many things that could have happened instead to keep the show interesting and the plot fun. I want chips. Why did I not give in and buy chips at the store. I know it is inevitable that I will want them and then their lack of existence causes a real bad case of annoyance. The last thing I want to do in winter is grocery shop and ordering online is far too expensive to warrant doing when I’m really just being lazy. So now I’m insanely snackish with no available snacks or hungry with no available food. I smile at a joke I’ve heard too many times to laugh at. My phone vibrates. Honey lifts his head. I open it quickly, feeling a flutter of excitement.
90% sale on all winter items. Buy one get one free jackets. Sale stands until the 1st or until stock lasts.
I clear the notification and click open the forums app. I scroll through the relentless attention seeking posts. I don’t know why my feed is so full of this shit. A selfie taken in perfect lighting with glam make up on and a caption that says “Feeling so ugly… Please help” or “Sister thinks I should get a nose job, is she right?” I huff and move onto the photography app. I quickly exit out after five tarot readers say that a message is meant to find me. I open a video shorts app and watch half naked people get ready for important functions that they are super late for. I switch over to the app store. I type ‘Find Love’ into the search bar, delete it and type it in again. Do I really want to do that whole thing again? It is never worth it. I’m inevitably going to pick up some insane person who completely destroys my peace in some totally new and heinous way. Dating as you get older is not for the weak. The people who are not married are single for a reason. Mine being that I gave most of my life to an arsehole who didn’t like me all that much, and I am now exceptionally reclusive. The times I have dated since my childhood ‘sweetheart’ have been disastrous… really reinforces my distrust of people. The show ends. I close all the tabs open on my phone and pet Honey.
I kiss the top of his head. “Night little.”
I walk into my bedroom, him following quickly behind me. I put a foot out to stop him from running in as I open the door.
“I’m sorry.”
I hop into bed and open my phone. I go to a video app and type in ASMR. I scroll through until I find “Shy nerd plays with your hair because you are gorgeous”. I click on it, hit the like button and subscribe.
ABOUT SIX MONTHS LATER
TWO
THE DATE
My phone buzzes. I pick it up and smile. Stephen’s name adorned with hearts and flowers lights up my screen. I click on it.
‘You ready for tonight? Wear something nice.’
My thumbs move quickly across my keyboard. I look at the message, hold down the delete key and type again. I repeat the process a few times until my message no longer reads as though I am the worlds most excited person.
‘Ready. I have something in mind. What time should I be outside?’
I watch the three dots move for an instant.
‘7.’
‘K.’
I smile widely and shake my legs. I am beyond ready for the weekend. I hope we get to spend more time together though. Our Friday dates have become a staple but he has the tendency to ghost me for the rest of the weekend. Tess set us up though so he can’t be dodgy. I am sure of it. I haven’t felt any bad vibes. I turn back to my computer, click out of excel and stand up. I walk over to my managers office and knock on the door.
He smiles brightly at me. “Come in.”
“Hey, Jamie.”
“What’s up?”
“I was just sort of wondering if maybe I could leave a tad early today? I’ve gotten through everything that needs to be done before Monday and I don’t mind working a couple extra hours at home tomorrow.”
Jamie waves his hand through the air lazily. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re more than welcome to have some time. I’m always happy to listen if you have something going on.”
“Thank you so much. You’re literally the best.”
“Oh definitely not but I appreciate it. What are you getting up to this weekend?”
“Nothing much honestly, but I’m thinking of maybe getting a new tattoo.”
“Oh, well, if you’re free some of us are going to play waterpolo at the rec centre. You should come, do you mind if I text you the details?”
I bite my lip. “Sure, if it’s before the tattoo.”
“Great, good, yeah. I can’t wait to have you on the team.”
I smile with one side of my mouth. “It will be a good reason to get out of the house. Do you mind if I leave like now?”
“Oh yeah, of course.”
I’ve always got the vibe that Jamie gives me special treatment. I think he might like me but he seems like a good person and he is very married so I can’t imagine he means any harm. Sometimes he lingers though.
They Tried Their Best
By Kimlyn Stanyon
Publisher: Kimlyn Stanyon
Publication Date: July 15, 2025
ASIN: B0FC83DT39
78 Pages
Star Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Dread Factor: 💀
What Did I Just Walk Into?
Imagine you're barely holding it together, the world is on fire (literally and figuratively), your love life is a wasteland, your boss thinks “team-building” means unpaid overtime, and the best part of your day involves eating chips in silence with your dogs. That’s our narrator—relatable AF and tired of trying to act like everything’s fine when clearly, it’s not.
In They Tried Their Best, Kimlyn Stanyon delivers a short but emotionally loaded punch of a story that feels like a conversation with your most honest (and unhinged) inner voice. Our unnamed narrator isn't setting out to save the world—she's just trying to survive it without completely unraveling. When the news cycle becomes unbearable and every social interaction feels like a performance, she does what most of us have fantasized about during a late-night doomscroll session: she builds a bunker. For real.
What follows isn’t just a story about withdrawal from society—it’s about confronting what survival really means. Is it enough to just not die? Or do we have to fight for something more—like joy, connection, purpose? And how do you do that when your coping mechanism is sarcasm and your last date made you want to punch a wall?
Here’s What Slapped:
Bone-dry humor mixed with painfully honest introspection.
A narrator who feels like your inner monologue during a 3 a.m. existential crisis.
Tenderness wrapped in snark. Vulnerability hidden under emotional armor.
What Could’ve Been Better:
I’d pay good money for 100 more pages of this emotional chaos.
Not for readers who want plot-heavy or action-driven narratives. This one simmers.
Perfect for Readers Who Love:
📖 Millennial apocalypse moods
📖 Sarcastic emotional processing
📖 Dogs, solitude, and snacks
📖 Quiet books that scream on the inside
📖 Humor masking an identity crisis
Vibe Check:
This is what it feels like to spiral… but aesthetically.
Reviewed by Robin for Robin’s Review