C. Lea Roufley
Bio
I'm a 27 year old wife and mom of three. Engaged. Born and raised in Montana. I've been writing since I was a kid and published a book at 17. Haven't written much in recent years, hoping to get back into it through this forum.
Stories (23/0)
First of Her Kind Part 7
A tap on the door drew Adam out of sleep. She cast a glance at her alarm clock. A couple hours had passed. Another tap at the door drew her scrambling from her bed. She straightened her clothes as she went to the door and cracked it open. Emily stood at the door.
By C. Lea Roufley7 months ago in Fiction
First of Her Kind part 6
The kitchen buzzed with morning activity. Benjamin stood at the stove preparing breakfast while Lucian impatiently searched the fridge for something to tide him over. Emily and Jessie chatted over cups of coffee at the dining room table and Dr. Sheridan leaned against the counter, lazily sipping on his own mug while reading something on the tablet in his hand.
By C. Lea Roufley8 months ago in Fiction
The First of Her Kind part 3
Adam sat on the edge of the bed in the modification room holding out her arm as Jessie carefully extracted a blood sample. Dr. Sheridan seemed lost in thought, his piercing green eyes fixated on her. Jessie rolled across to a small fridge and placed the blood vials inside.
By C. Lea Roufley8 months ago in Fiction
First of Her Kind
Identity is such a strange thing. Where in does it lay? How do we decide what is or isn't part of it? Is it a collection of personality traits, likes and dislikes, experiences…? Is it something physiological, existing in the tangible folds of gray matter inside our heads and detectable by machines that measure electrical impulses? Or, is it part of our supposed spirit inhabiting not just our bodies, but some greater, cosmic realm? What happens to it when we die? And, if our bodies can be brought back, could we ever hope to also regain ourselves?
By C. Lea Roufley10 months ago in Fiction
The Mad Woman of the Crazy Mountains
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. A black and white photo of a woman stood next to it, facing outside as if watching the mountain in the distance. An old man came out of the cabin, a riffle slung over his shoulder, a machete in one hand and a photo album in the other. He groaned as he rested into the chair on the porch and set the book in his lap. His cracked, aged hands gently opened the book and caressed the first photo. A family sat in front of the cabin, 4 boys and a man stood around a woman sitting in a chair, her hand on her round belly.
By C. Lea Roufley2 years ago in Horror
Black Wings Trilogy
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Yet, the towering drakes perched along the cliffs, still as great stone statues made the landscape feel like an ancient draconian cathedral. As dawn painted the sides of the valley orange, smaller dragons emerged from caves and crevices. The blue sky pushed away the gray of dusk and revealed the plume of smoke billowing from the far end of the glen. They congregated at the edge of the creek, taking turns to drink. Two of the drakes spread their great wings and dove off the cliff, gliding to the gathering clan below. The dragons stepped aside to make a path for the great beasts. The largest drake raised his head and let loose with a thundering roar that seemed to split the sky.
By C. Lea Roufley2 years ago in Fiction