Adriana Katriel Brown
Bio
I'm headed to college soon and I have always been a good writer, so I thought I'd try to make some extra money while I'm at it :)
Stories (6/0)
Softly as I Leave You
It’s 2003, Micheal Buble’s sweet voice plays over the speakers of Franklin Hosse’s 1979 Cadillac Coupe Deville. He just replaced the stereo a week ago, from a simple cassette player to a bluetooth setup that lets him connect his own music. His best friend, Nathan Crough sits in the passenger seat, talking on the phone with his soon to be wife, arguing about which parts of the wedding will need the most attention budget-wise.
By Adriana Katriel Brown3 years ago in Fiction
Grandpa, Goats, and Me
“Wake up, Addie, It's five in the morning.” I slowly lifted my eyelids and allowed my retinas to adjust to the darkness of the living room where I had made my bed. The air mattress had deflated as a result of my restless sleep that night, and it hugged my body, tempting me to stay in the warm indent. But I had promised my grandpa the day before that I would go with him to learn how to milk and feed the goats, no matter how early I had to get up. So, I rubbed the exhaustion from my eyes, and took a deep breath before throwing the warm, inviting covers off of my legs, and exposing my skin to the biting cold of my grandparent’s cabin.
By Adriana Katriel Brown3 years ago in Fiction
The Bull and the Willow
The walls were painted pink, not the kind of pink that catches one’s eye, but the kind that is so pale in color that it’s nearly white. Castori never would have noticed, if she hadn't started doing touch-ups with a pure white coat of paint. The drive to town was thirty minutes, and she was going to need a lot more than the pint she had open on the floor.
By Adriana Katriel Brown3 years ago in Fiction
Words of Winter Water
“If a story on paper could be told with more than words, the whole world would read it.” She told me the first time we hung out and sat under the maple tree by the pond that Autumn afternoon. The grass was dead and crunched beneath our feet like the tires of my old, red Ford on her gravel driveway when I would drive her home before curfew. The leaves danced with the wind, spinning pirouettes before leaping from their branches to join in the Fall’s beautiful recital. And the water stood still, like shimmering glass on a midsummer afternoon.
By Adriana Katriel Brown3 years ago in Fiction
Porter
22 February 1945 Elijah Porter moved the bed covers off of his legs. He looked around his bedroom. His eyes scanned over the photo of him and his wife on their wedding day. Their smiles were wide and their eyes were shining frozen in time on a small sheet of paper in a cheap wooden frame they found at a pawn shop. He stood, and picked up the photo, smiling at the memory. They had just got married a year ago, she cried as he said his vows, her brown eyes boring into his, as she grinned from ear to ear, showing her straight, white teeth. He remembered brushing her curly hair from her face as he swung her around and kissed her, sealing their hearts forever.
By Adriana Katriel Brown3 years ago in Fiction
