Ashley Lima
Bio
I think about writing more than I write, but call myself a writer as opposed to a thinker.
Stories (170/0)
How to be a Writer
If you're reading this, it might be too late for you. Turn back now, or forever hold your peace, because today I'll be going over the 5 easy steps you must take in order to become a writer, and surely, that's not something you want to do. You've been warned!
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Humor
Like Mike
"We Are The Champions" blares through the truck radio, and my dad and I scream along. It's a beautiful evening, the sun is just beginning to set, and the windows are all the way down. We are on the way back from my baseball practice, and I hadn't won anything, but I felt like a winner spending time with my dad.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Men
The Desperate Man
His life was not all it was cracked up to be. Despite his talent, wit, and charm, he found himself irrevocably alone. Broken-hearted. Time and time again. As he inched closer to thirty trips around the sun, he felt himself destined to a life of solitude and anguish.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Art
- Top Story - June 2023
JunkieTop Story - June 2023
She didn't dream of being this way as a little girl. Life threw obstacles her way, and sometimes she was able to avoid them, while other times, they smacked her straight in the face. It's hard to find somewhere to lay the blame. But she faces it, every day, and trust, this cruel world never made anything easy. So she lights the match. She heats the spoon. And she sails away to lands unknown, hoping, just for one second, to escape. Because in her dreams, she's a dragon slayer and a princess. She can touch the clouds and sing with the stars. She can be anybody besides who she is now.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - June 2023
The Longest NightTop Story - June 2023
The sun was setting in Tanglewood, and the forest trails were covered in a feathery dusting of snow. The trees were thick, but naked, except for the speckled evergreens, highlighting the death that winter brings. As Edgar prepared his horse for slumber, he sat uneasy, worried about what the night would share on this sacred evening.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Horror
I read my book
I wrote a post twenty days ago titled I wrote a book. Perhaps the person who's reading this now saw that post. Perhaps they remember that I said, "I am at the stage where it's time to read my story in full. In fact, that's my plan for this evening." Well, I lied to you. I didn't mean to do it, but I did because I didn't actually read the book until this evening. Vocal was kind enough to lift my voice and place this post as a Top Story, which put extra eyes on my project. For that, I'm so grateful. If you're here from the post, I hope you find the following musing helpful in your writing/authorial journey as well because I'm going to react to my first read-through of the book I wrote.
By Ashley Lima12 months ago in Writers
Changes
For some reason, the hair on his face grows brown, even when the hair on the top of his head is dirty blonde. He doesn't dye it. She's even seen pictures of him as a strawberry child. It didn’t make much sense, but it made him special to her. She dreamt of the day she'd walk down the aisle, and he’d be standing there, watching with tears in his eyes. She looked forward to watching his hair become grey with time. Now, her bed is empty, and her friend said that she saw him out at the bar, cleanly shaven.
By Ashley Limaabout a year ago in Fiction