Amy Volavka
Stories (2/0)
Eight Years of Writers Block
The clink of keys housed in an aluminum frame. The blue lit screen that peers back at me from the abyss. The silent companionship that I reviled in for so long. The familiar flow of energy. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins uniting my heart and my mind. The unwillingness to stop my newfound journey was so freeing, that I wondered, what had I been afraid of for so long? It had been eight long years since I sat down to write. It wasn’t that life had become too tedious, although the wild call of motherhood did meet my heart, deaths and births enveloped life, degrees were sought for better futures. It wasn’t that I wasn’t brimming to explode from the ideas that entranced my thoughts, because I daydreamed my fantasies each day, some for days at a time. It wasn’t a lack of inspiration, for life had given me so many gifts. No, It was the fear that grief would overtake anything I had hoped to write.
By Amy Volavka3 years ago in Motivation
Who Loves Me?
2063 Andrina ran. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. The trees raked their branches across her skin and the dirt flung itself to spot her white dress and coat her feet in its murky darkness. Her copper hair flailed itself behind her in a wild mess as she ran for her life. They had finally come. It was her time for the awakening and they knew, they knew she would fight. Her vision had never been her strength but her ears had guided her through this forest for the last 16 years. She knew it better than most and certainly more than the infantry scum that had come for her. She heard the whooshing of the creek faintly to her right and so she veered left. Andrina knew they would assume she would seek refuge with others, and a creek meant a river and a river meant people, if there were any left.
By Amy Volavka3 years ago in Fiction