Andrea Lawrence
Bio
Freelance writer. Undergrad in Digital Film and Mass Media. Master's in English Creative Writing. Spent six years working as a journalist. Owns one dog and two cats.
Stories (198/0)
The Stalker's Notes
Magic spells in the witch's den. No one knows what will or won't happen. She sweeps the dirt around her house; she keeps a white candle lit in the window. Sometimes she sits in a rocking chair and watches animals pass by her home. She wears a rosary and a cross necklace. Everyone can see through her charade. She ain't no saint.
By Andrea Lawrence2 years ago in Fiction
Cleft Dimension
The hazmat team arrived. A girl was carried out of the home. The news crews were reporting live. Within the house, I was crawling through the thick smoke. When I stretched out my hands, I found gold coins, jewels, talismans, and rubies. The stench grew as I crawled on my belly. The house above had suddenly collapsed, like a ride at a fair—the lighthearted music playing, and then the screams when the ride pivots, bends, and crashes into the cotton candy.
By Andrea Lawrence2 years ago in Fiction
Submarine Sickness
March 26, 2040 We're traveling to the deepest part of the ocean. We're traveling to the Mariana Trench. If Mount Everest were placed into the trench at its deepest point, the peak would be underwater by more than two kilometers. Mariana Trench is more epic than Mount Everest.
By Andrea Lawrence2 years ago in Fiction
Witch Hunters Dream in Binary Code
A cold wind shrieks—she's a phantom trying to possess brick and mortar. I know that piercing wind, how her eyes scrutinize the walls, and how she stalks around my home waiting to snatch her prey. Her giant dark eyes focused on my house, waiting for it to crack. I know she wants to slip through the plaster and swallow me into her gray, decayed mouth. She rattles the trees and hurtles trash down the road. I can hear the tuna cans and beer bottles banging along the pavement. My whole house shakes under her spell.
By Andrea Lawrence2 years ago in Fiction