Bella Blue
Bio
Lover of Words. Polyglot. Sapiophile .
Stories (11/0)
Learning to live by trying to die
I was 9 years old the first time I tried to die. My beloved Uncle Tony had died at 42 from kidney failure. I had loved and worshipped him. He was the only person who spoke to me as if I were a person, not a nuisance. He would engage me in riddles and puzzles . He was the only one who told me that I was very smart and to never stop learning . He would envelop me in hugs that enveloped all of me and made me feel incredibly safe. Nothing could hurt me while I was with him. I was convinced he was the only person who cared about me.
By Bella Blue11 months ago in Psyche
The Avenue
At 10 am , we stopped for coffee. I knew my mother was getting anxious and rather than smoke a cigarette, meditate , use drugs, or indulge in any other suggested method of relaxation , she chose to drink caffeine, lots of it and as quickly as possible . I watched her worship the paper cup that held her hot salvation.
By Bella Blue11 months ago in Fiction
The Freezing of Walnut Pond
Mayor Wilson was on his fourth drink and second speech , when Kelsey slipped out of the glass double doors and onto the marble balcony , walking right to the edge before exhaling. Her breath formed a cloud of circular smoke. The temperature was below freezing and the moon was casting a light blue glaze on Walnut Pond.
By Bella Blue12 months ago in Fiction
The Light means Life
Emily wrapped the charging belt around her waist. She snapped the battery into place and plugged the wire into the wall . The charger beeped , signaling it was synched with the medical implant in Emily’s spine. The green light indicator was lit, showing a full connection. She was ready to recharge.
By Bella Blue12 months ago in Fiction
The Barn
No one had been to the Livingston Farm since Old Lady Bell shot and killed her husband and his mistress as they engaged in their usual Tuesday afternoon delight in the farmhouse master bedroom. The affair had been ongoing every week for over a year when Old Lady Bell drove the 43 miles to town to sell her fresh eggs and cheese, and then perform her household errands, including shopping, banking, and visits to the library. She was usually gone for a few hours, giving the lovers ample time to talk, tryst, and kiss goodbye as the mistress tightened her fist around the three-hundred-dollar bills, the husband lovingly gifted her after each session.
By Bella Blueabout a year ago in Fiction
Cachapas in Caracas
The first bite of the “cachapa” was a time machine that instantly transported me back to Venezuela. Back to the warm, balmy air. Back to the palm trees and open roads. Back to the beaches, the sun, the white sand. Back to fresh squeezed pineapple juice, full of sweetness and yellow pulp. Back to the salty, creamy, piping hot mixture that had conquered my taste buds then, and were planning a re-enactment in my mouth today.
By Bella Blueabout a year ago in Feast
