Anna Turnitsa
Bio
My educational background beyond the traditional, public schools includes an Associate of Mechanical Drafting and a Bachelor of Psychology. After being a numbers person for half my life, unfortunate circumstances put me on a fine arts path.
Stories (54/0)
Time Immemorable
When I returned home from my morning run at the local park, the sun was beginning to rise, sending several shades of yellow upon the clearing storm clouds. My husband, Richard, usually ran with me, however, he’d worked late yesterday. I took a shower then prepared a fruit smoothie for breakfast, which I drank after making myself cozy on the white, leather couch. I was reaching for a book about human behavior when my eyes widened at the buzzing coming from my work pager. It hadn’t even been a week since I’d returned from a two-week mission where I almost took a bullet in my thigh. I’d put in my fighting time, but the death of two commanding officers during that mission made me the next in line, and the elites lengthened my service. There was nothing I could do but comply or lose everything.
By Anna Turnitsa3 months ago in Fiction
Time Immemorable
Time Immemorable: A beginning After the sun left the sky, I slung a black backpack over my shoulder, then, went upstairs to the garage where the Black Mercedes coupe Roxane gave me was parked. The moon was not yet out in the overcast sky that threatened rain, and the treetops swayed in the wind. I opened the car window and lit a cigarette. Smoking wasn't a habit, however, I enjoyed one when there was business to take care of.
By Anna Turnitsa3 months ago in Fiction
Life is Worth Suffering For
There is a powerful creative force inside everybody that grows and evolves at its own pace. Striving and pushing this process is a waste of time and energy. As I reflect upon my trials with mental health and transgressions, I question the intensity of the suffering I caused by striving to speed up the transformational process. Striving to reach a state of self-actualization before my time on this planet was up. According to Abraham Maslow, self-actualization is the highest, psychological motivational need that is often accompanied by peak experiences.
By Anna Turnitsa4 months ago in Psyche
The Rewards of Accepting Responsibility for Personal Pain and Suffering: No Matter the Cause
It was the step toward taking responsibility that moved me from a constant state of coping with trauma into healing it. Not the responsibility to pay bills, show up for work on time, and take the trash out, but the responsibility for my own mental processes and emotional processing without projecting my fears and anger upon others, despite, how the pain and suffering were caused.
By Anna Turnitsa6 months ago in Psyche
Time Immemorable
A vampire's kiss during that moonless winter night. While I was on a mission assigned by the mortal world government. I was about to take the shot when I was knocked to the ground by a violent shove from the thief that had turned me. Future moments with my beloved stolen without cause, and past ones left to torture and create a longing for more. Why hadn't I pointed the gun upon myself then? From the bloodthirsty thief, no words came. Only a kick to my stomach and a wad of spit on the frozen ground. The target - gone.
By Anna Turnitsa6 months ago in Fiction
Time Immemorable
Eyes meet across the crowded bar littered with beer bottles and glasses containing half drank booze. Worlds collide with the lingering gaze that causes my heart to skip a beat before tuning in to your heart's rhythm. An exquisite woman appears by your side and brushes a kiss, before pulling you toward the dance floor, where the sensual music is amplified. I want to look away but can't because business is my mission tonight. To take a life that breached peace between the worlds of the living, and those that walk eternally in the night.
By Anna Turnitsa6 months ago in Fiction
Within Death's Reach
A life lay struggling for release, in a spreading pool of blood, spilled by calloused hands, aimed for revenge. Laugher once filled the void, where curdling screams, sear through the heart, like flying glass shards slicing air, from mirrors being shatter.
By Anna Turnitsa6 months ago in Poets
