Rachael MacDonald
Bio
Avid Reader, Sometimes Poet, Occasional Writer, and searcher of truths often lost in the breaths between candy-coated lies.
Stories (76/0)
Snow and Ice
We drove up the snowy winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. The setting sun danced amongst a backdrop of mountainous evergreen trees as a deep wintry calm settled into my chest. Gone was the hustle and bustle of the big city. A whole weekend free of car horns, police sirens, fighting drunkards, and flashing lights laid out before us on a glistening white carpet. Snow crunched beneath the tires as I turned onto Cabin A’s private gravel drive. White smoke billowed out of the chimney ahead, and I saw that I was not the first to arrive.
By Rachael MacDonaldabout a year ago in Fiction
Message in a bottle
I saw her drop it. I watched the tears falling from her face adding salt to the already salted water. Her yellow raincoat was too bright, her violet-hued hair too playful, as she knelt by the edge of the water. Strictly speaking, I should have stopped her. Whatever she dropped would need to be retrieved before I left for the night. I hadn't planned on getting back into the tank. The fish were fed, and I was ready to go home, but as I watched from the dark alcove something inside gave me pause.
By Rachael MacDonald2 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Box
A short high-pitched beep echoed through the cool mountain air. Inside, Marnie startled awake, heart hammering inside her chest like a caged bird. Blinking twice she scanned the darkened bedroom for movement, her eyes coming to rest on her door set slightly ajar. Oh right, the cabin. Light poured in from the hallway waking her senses more.
By Rachael MacDonald2 years ago in Fiction
Cassiopeia
“Hurry,” Cass screamed as she soared through the darkened sky. “Higher, Gabe, they can still see you.” Pumping her wings as hard as she could go, Cass prayed silently to the Gods to make it. Up this high, the storm was roaring in full force, the swirling wind pelting her hide with ice crystals as she inched higher yet.
By Rachael MacDonald2 years ago in Fiction
Little Egg
It was a crisp autumn morning when Mayar first set out at dawn. Careful to tiptoe past her sleeping family, she moved to extricate herself from the cave. Today was the day she would reach the peak of Mount Diamor. She had been pleading with her mom for months to let her try to summit the grey monster that shadowed them just west of the valley. Too small, her mother had told her; too young, her father echoed. Mayar, known to her family as May, knew these things to be true, but she also knew that she had the will to succeed, the gut determination to never give up. She would show them that she was brave and powerful and worthy of the humans’ awe but most importantly fear.
By Rachael MacDonald2 years ago in Fiction