C.A. Price
Stories (13/0)
Green Light Memories
Green lights. A green light means go. At least that is what we are taught. I often wondered to myself why green means go and red stop. Why yellow was a sign to slow down. My thoughts drift as I look at the color wheel on the wall across from the bed in the room that I will no longer call mine.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Fiction
I Am Not Confused
I am not confused. I am a Pansexual so gender, biological sex, and gender idenity does not play a role in who I love. I fall in love with the person, who they are not by what box they check on the forms that make us define who we are without allowing all the choices to be there.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Pride
Excerpt from Seven by Saturday
The pounding in my head felt as if I was stopped next to a car with the volume turned up so high that the bass shook everything around it. Pinching my nose I tried to take calming breaths, a four count in and a four count out. My mind is drifting over every inch of every crime scene I have been at the past three days. The boxes were small, not drawing attention. All of them were wrapped in brown paper. The techs had determined that it was a paper grocery store bag, giving you nothing. Inside the boxes was filled with screws and marbles for shrapnel. When they exploded anyone in a hundred yards radius was in danger. Sitting a little straighter I open my eyes reaching for the files yet again.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Criminal
No Sugar for You
Before I can even remember I was told that I was not allowed sugar. At the tender age of one year old I almost died from diabetic ketoacidosis. Which high blood sugar due to my pancreases not producing insulin. My body's immune system began to attack the insulin-producing beta cells in my pancreas. The beta cells become damaged and, over time, my pancreas stopped producing enough insulin to meet my body's needs. At least that is what they say medically.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Longevity
Only if Justice Prevails
Golden fields of wheat swayed as the scorching breeze seared the skin on your face. Stomach churning with only the coffee in it the bile rises hearing the terrifying shots rang out sending the quail in the field bursting into the air. You can hear them. You can hear their jovial tone as they boost each other's egos about killing for sport.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Criminal
Sandpaper Skin
It is said that we have explored more of our known universe then we have our oceans. I used to try to explain to people that it was all about pressure. In space it’s like a vacuum so you need a vessel that can withstand and navigate the vast reaches that have no pressure. While in the ocean the deeper you go the more pressure there is. Finding something that can withstand the pressure of the deepest depths of the ocean. In 2019 Victor Vescovo became the first person to reach the deepest points of all five oceans. I remember watching it on CNN and while people marveled at it around me, I was thinking about the fact that we still have eighty percent left to explore.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Fiction
Sunset Between the Silos
The barn had always been your place of solace, the animals your calm. Even with the red paint flaking and peeling on the outside. Even with the sound of the floorboards creaking in the hayloft under the additional weight of your small frame. The smell of the lavender field that grew in the fields of the farm next to your parents claimed you as the breeze pushed it through the open barn doors. Sitting on the unbroken bails of hay you feel their stiff blades against the bare skin on the back of your legs. With the hayloft door open you could breathe. In the distance the two silos stood far enough apart to frame the setting sun every time it set. You were really going to miss this place when you left in the fall for college. Most of all this barn, the one that held your secrets, your dreams, your desires and your memories of the times that will stay with you forever.
By C.A. Price3 years ago in Fiction