Bianca Hubbard
Bio
"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." --Anaïs Nin
I love to write, read, and laugh! I can be found reading fanfiction, spending time with my nieces and nephews or relaxing with my cat after work.
Achievements (1)
Stories (38/0)
Scales Form The Story
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley…” I tuned out the audio book the teacher was determined to make us listen to. I had heard the short story for years; it was a repetitive hassle at this point just for the English grade. Taking a look around the classroom I saw the teacher had her head in the book as well. My inner me grinned with a devious glint as I popped an earbud in under my mass of hair. Looking at my phone on the sly, I noticed my girlfriend had shot me a text. Checking to make sure I still had clearance, I responded really quick and opened a music app.
By Bianca Hubbard2 years ago in Fiction
Survive Where Survival Is Key
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley. At least, not until the rings broke out.” Each time Shawn Aerelynn started this section, he groaned mentally. There were expectant eyes watching from his classroom as he recounted the local tale. Each kid’s face looked washed of the normal inattentive façade as something more interesting came along. Heads leaned forward as if trying to see the internal movie on page as the tale unfolded.
By Bianca Hubbard2 years ago in Fiction
Moment Of Truth
I felt my muscles loosen with the steaming mineral rich waters after tossing, unable to sleep. The baths were silent at 2 am which suited me perfectly. My coach-de facto was in bed resting. His lack of hovering gave me time to ponder a few things. Just a moment to think of the last few months.
By Bianca Hubbard2 years ago in Fiction
Dancing in the Weeds
They walked into a quiet hovel, mouth dry and eyes weary. There we no frills. No bells and whistles. The establishment if it could be called that was bare bones and they appreciated that. They looked around and found there were empty benches and chairs scattered through out the room. The walls were once a light gray but now yellowed with age and remnants of old ink. The floors were a type of wood but sank in places from years of improper care. There were end tables of formica and particle board that crumbled in the slightly damp atmosphere.
By Bianca Hubbard2 years ago in Fiction
Shadow and His Funny ways
When I was a little girl, at the ripe age of nine, I got a cat. It had been some months since my dog got loose and was hit by a car. It was my first pet and I was heartbroken. Every time someone mentioned his name or showed me his picture, I would cry. I lost my first furry best friend.
By Bianca Hubbard3 years ago in Petlife
Truth in a Cloth of Riddles
He sat at the small round table and waiting for the woman to become settled. The room smelt of heavy floral musk and dried spices. It was ensconced in sheer, soft gauze that moved and flowed with each draft. A delicate lace was draped across the surface and a largish cup was sat in front of him. It had leaves and dried bark at the bottom, a loose tea. He watched with interest as the woman lit candle after candle while humming a soft tune. Each candle seemed to dance in time with the airy notes as she completed this task.
By Bianca Hubbard3 years ago in Fiction
When Did I Know You
The crash of thunder woke her from her sleep. Moving the thin summer quilt, she looked to the cooled spot where Rin had laid the night before. On the nightstand was a plate with fresh grapes and berries with muffins and a thermos. On the covered plate was a note folded a top.
By Bianca Hubbard3 years ago in Fiction
Coral and Pearl
They forced him to attend this gala every year. It was always a fundraiser that wanted to help orphaned pigeons or something equally as ridiculous. Benefactors arrived, took pictures, schmoozed up to some richer than life old lady with five or more hefty cats. The equally as bad, rich, geriatric fart that popped more Viagra than a pharmacy could prescribe in a week. Both had a high chance of flirting with something young enough to be their grand-daughter (or Great- grand in Ms. Juylawitz’s case).
By Bianca Hubbard3 years ago in Fiction
