Barbara Steinhauser
Bio
Thank you for taking time to read my stuff. I love writing almost as much as I love my people. I went back to college and earned an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults and often run on that storytelling track. Enjoy!
Stories (47/0)
Octopod Orchestra
Amelia plunged from the sky into somewhere wet and cramped. Had she fists, she would have pounded and scratched her captor, but she’d become a spinning globe of slime with no defense: a nothing. Dull light slit the darkness, providing focus. She gained control of the spin then stared through one light source, an eye socket overlooking a ledge covered with green lichen, a reality so alien it held no more context than a womb.
By Barbara Steinhauser about a year ago in Fiction
The Space Between
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Heather peered through the unshrouded window, full of anticipation. The sky was darkening; she would have a ringside seat. Mother's room was on the fifth floor. Its window offered views directly west across a horizon of corn fields nearing tillage. She could almost smell the fertile soil crumbling and lush.
By Barbara Steinhauser about a year ago in Fiction
The end of the world
Through the window, the final battle, a classic struggle between might and right, myth and legend, flesh and light, past and presence turns my direction. It is time for me to choose and yet, I see both sides. I have absorbed conflicting arguments, attempted to sort fact from fiction. A system that relies on honesty is easily corrupted. Where lies the truth?
By Barbara Steinhauser about a year ago in Fiction
Requiem Blues
me? I am cobalt you left me strangulated didn’t even wave
By Barbara Steinhauser about a year ago in Poets
blue horizon
my third eye opens every night at 3am your bedside empty
By Barbara Steinhauser about a year ago in Poets
The Raven Challenge
Believing with certainty Da’s ancient tales contain truth, Roald also trusts his father's claim that century old ravens exist. Hadn’t he seen the same ebony pair hopping and coughing along the edge of wilderness and pine his entire sixteen years?
By Barbara Steinhauser 2 years ago in Fiction