Sam Eliza Green
Bio
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
Achievements (1)
Stories (128/0)
- Top Story - June 2022
Why Comments Are ImportantTop Story - June 2022
Imagine you’re going out somewhere like a bar or nice restaurant with your friends, and you’re wearing an outfit you weren’t quite sure about when you tried it on in the dressing room. Maybe you’re not used to wearing pastels, or it hugs your body a way in which you’re not accustomed.
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Journal
Wine Drunk and Laughing About Our Old Writing
Mom, I have read, and witnessed, and contributed stories about a seemingly universal pain, a specific sadness that comes from losing a mother, either parts of her or entirely. Some confessions are bleak and meant to be because why keep a secret unless you’re afraid of it? Why lock away your heart unless you expect to be hurt again in some way?
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Families
A Love Letter to Mother Nature
Mother Nature is my favorite of your names because it reminds me of nurture and how you are so much more than just a mother to us. You are the land upon which we hold our feet steadily, or run, unbound but still free to rest if weary. You are the crisp air we pull through our lungs into our mortal but also, somehow, immortal bodies to nourish our cells. You are the way of life, the ebb and flow of fate’s perpetual vigil. So large is your scope, and yet, so small it can be when needed.
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Earth
Our Mothers Gazing Back
When you looked in the mirror, I wonder if you saw me or your own mother gazing back — some sort of paradox, the living and reliving of the past. When you found my face, traced the outline of my nose, so familiar, was I ever anything different than a shadow, a silent reflection of yourself?
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Psyche
Secrets Are Like Pumpkins
Remember that story you told me and Noah when we were so little we could still sit on your lap? You said that secrets grow like pumpkins in the patch, and if you keep them too long, they’ll rot and the rot will grow to the other pumpkins and spoil them too. I have a rotten pumpkin, and I don’t know what to do with it.
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Confessions
- Top Story - May 2022
Sissy's Sacrifice
I remember, the crushed fender, and two seconds later, we could have died but didn’t thanks to dumb luck and air bags. It was the worst day of my life, or so I would consider until I gave birth to Clovis and almost bled out in the hospital bed.
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Fiction