Snippets of New & Old Projects

Hello!

A couple of days ago I shared about my creative writing class experience. Here I wanted to show you what was included in my short portfolio. I feel like you guys deserve to read some of my fiction again- I mean you have stuck around, right? 😉

Enjoy!

-Em

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Alexandria (Historical Fiction & Continuation of Livianna) – Grave Scene

Livianna was not subtle that night. She left dinner and immediately went to stand in front of the large window. Rain danced across the palace roof and sank down into the gardens.

Shortly after midnight, Alexandria heard frantic footsteps outside her chambers. It sounded as though the person was stumbling down the hallway; bumping into vases and tangling themselves in the curtains as they went.

A few minutes later, Alexandria lowered herself out of her bed and crept down the hallway. She saw muddy footprints leading down the stairs and out the door. Alexandria followed the trail outside to the very front of the palace.

She heard the screaming and crying before she saw the dark figure lying on the ground.

There, sobbing in the pouring rain, was Livianna. She was kneeling on the ground in front of Augustus’ tombstone. She had a long blade in her hand.

As Alexandria approached, Livianna dropped the blade and started clawing at the ground.

“Get out! Come here and see what you’ve done! Can’t you see how much you’ve hurt me? Can’t you see that you and your daughter are ruining me?” Livianna scooped up the dirt and tossed it to the side. She had been making a fair bit of progress with her knife and bare hands.

She alternated again, picking up the long blade and stabbing it repeatedly into the ground.

Stab and twist. Stab and twist.

Livianna dropped the blade, threw her head back, and screamed into the night sky.

“Why?” She looked at the stars, then back to the grave, “Could you predict this too? Did you know I was going insane? Did you know that I would be on my knees at your grave? Is that why you died with a smile?”

 

 

My Hands (Fiction; Entered in TNQ contest) – Scrubbing Scene

It was the first time I killed a man.

My hands felt incredibly dirty at first. I kept wandering into my bathroom, hoping that time I would feel better. I remember leaning over the bathroom sink and turning on the tap. There was no blood, but I continued to

Scrub,

Scrub,

Scrub.

The water burned against my hands.

Scrub,

Scrub,

Scrub.

They were bright red. They shouldn’t be red- there was no blood! I stopped scrubbing and started clawing. Clawing and scratching at my hands, desperate to get out of my skin.

They burned like hell.

These stupid, stupid hands were causing me so much pain. Maybe if the water was hotter….

Scrub,

Scrub,

Scrub.

There was blood now. I reached for the soap. My hands were numb, and I missed. I barely heard the shattering of the soap dispenser over my wailing.

“Winnie,” a voice called from the other side of the bathroom door, interrupting my endless scrubbing, “Are you alright?”

If We Only Had a Year (Fiction) – Proposed First Date

“Oh, I don’t know,” I exclaimed. We were staring at the sunset. Murphy had met me here every Sunday for the last month.

“Come on; just one cup of coffee. If you don’t have fun – well, I should say you’ll never see me again, but I’d be lying. Say – if you don’t have fun, I’ll find something better for our second date.”

“You don’t want to date me. I’m too old.”

“Oh come on, darling! We’re both old!”

“But I’m fourteen years older than you, Murphy! What if I only have one more year left to live? You don’t want to waste any of your time on me.” I leaned forward, ready to stand up.

Murphy reached forward and grabbed both my hands with such strength I gasped. He was silent until I looked up into his eyes. His bright, lively eyes; I could stare at them for days.

“If that’s the case, Ophelia, then I will spend every single day of that year making sure that it is the best year of your life.”

My heart fluttered. In eighty-two years, not a single man had made my heart flutter.

I loved it. I felt alive. I hadn’t felt alive in so long.

I was scared, but I wanted him – this – us so bad!

“Okay,” I breathed, “We’ll go get coffee.”

 

 

Imaginary Friends (Creative Non-Fiction)

I’ve gathered some of my imaginary friends here with me today.

Right beside me is Bridget. She’s standing tall and looking down her nose at all of my other friends that have threatened to steal her spotlight. She’s alternating between pointing and flexing her toes. She looks around the circle, eyes hard and unexpressive, until she sees Tye. Her eyes light up, and she briefly smiles before leaning to look at my computer screen.

Tye’s sitting directly across from me. To say he’s not important to me would be a lie, but in a way he really isn’t. My life could go on if he weren’t there, but Bridget’s couldn’t. And since she is clearly such a huge part of my life, Tye is here, and taking his spot directly in my sightline. No matter where I go or what I do, Bridget is standing beside me, pulling me towards Tye.

Over in the corner are Eternity and Hunter. Their heads bent together over a notebook as they sip their coffee. Eternity’s laugh rings out like bells every couple of minutes. Hunter has never been happier.

Livianna is also here. Her lips are the colour of blood and there is nothing stopping me from admitting that her lips have actually been stained with someone’s blood. Her eyes jump around the room, but she can’t get anyone to meet her glare. Her eyes land on Tye, and Bridget lunges towards her. With one look up from my laptop everyone freezes. Livianna scoffs; it wasn’t like she wanted to be here anyways.

Sarah- you haven’t met her yet- is sitting upright on the edge of a hospital bed. She begs me over and over again to tell her if she lives or dies. Sarah doesn’t know yet, but I do. I know what happens to her, but how everyone will interpret her story’s ending is up to them. Sarah, much like me, will be driven mad as she tries to unravel my brain’s flowchart for what her destiny is.

Ava’s here. She’s smiling, but she isn’t happy. She has yet to admit that she was in love with Scarlet, but if you watch her closely she keeps looking to the door, waiting for when Scarlet walks through it and back into her life.

Scarlet isn’t coming though. Ava really hurt her and she knows that it will be terrible for both of their recoveries if she shows up. I’ve been speaking to Scarlet a lot lately; she wants to tell you that there is a lot more than Ava told you.

I’ve only just scratched the surface of who is gathered in this room with me. I may look alone to the common outsider, but I’m not. I can’t be alone with all my friends here. I will never feel alone if Bridget is always correcting my posture or if Sapphire won’t stop whispering in my ears. I’ll never be bored as I watch Josephine try to wrap her head around why kissing Vincent is not cheating. I’ll always be there to help Little Lily find her pink balloon, or to warn Becky to carpool with someone else to dance. There’s always going to be someone with me, and for that I am thankful for all my imaginary friends.

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