Camillia Simonds
Bio
Stories carry us away. They are the fabric of humanity that holds us together. I'm taking a journey through the magical world of imagination, and I'd like to invite you to join me. Here's to a whole new world.
Stories (13/0)
Melting
The quiet was loud, as if the entire world was holding its breath in awe. Velvety crystals brushed softly against each other, lightly dusting the blanket of icy white clinging to the earth. I floated downward, one among millions. A tiny breeze gently sent me skidding along the ground before letting me rest.
By Camillia Simonds3 months ago in Fiction
Missing
The day it all started falling apart was the day she dropped me into the loose floorboards of the old farm kitchen. Not to brag, but I was apparently the only thing holding them together. The day she first started wearing me, I was sure they’d stay together forever. The words the guy was saying were for once kind of sweet and sincere.
By Camillia Simonds3 months ago in Fiction
Alien Day
Alien Day By Camille Simonds A year ago the aliens showed up. Spoiler alert for those who hate having their favorite characters die: I’m still alive as of this writing and yes, I’ll be your favorite character. For those of you who skipped the spoiler, what features popped into your mind when you saw the word alien? Green heads? Big eyes?
By Camillia Simonds8 months ago in Fiction
Dear Dad
Dear Dad, It’s Father’s Day again. I stare at the bright card display in Walgreen’s, the conveniently placed gift cards for Lowes and Cabela’s enticing me to reach for them. I pick up a card. Open it. “Thanks for being the best dad ever” it reads in a bold font. I want to buy it. I want more than anything to buy it. To mean it. But it would be a lie.
By Camillia Simonds11 months ago in Men
Sunrise
I don’t like taking the bus. For one thing, it’s dirty. And noisy. Oh, so noisy. Not a nice noise, like the peaceful chit chat of a sidewalk café in Paris or the beautiful rumble of a trombone in an old concert hall. On the contrary, it is a noise of the most dreadful, migraine-inducing kind. Another reason I dislike this mode of transportation is that it robs me of my mystery. While walking down the street, I can simply nod at fellow pedestrians and offer them a pleasant ‘how do you do’ like a proper gentleman, and it shocks them into disbelief or makes them question their sanity, depending on individual dispositions and mental health states. But on the bus, my fellow travelers have time to question me, a scenario that takes the mystery from my novelty.
By Camillia Simondsabout a year ago in Fiction
Tiny Human
It was the perfect day to start a war. Perhaps it was the brilliant blue sky begging for arrows and dragon flames to fly through it, or maybe the stars had aligned behind that very same curtain of dazzling blue. Most likely, the humans were bored and needed something to do. Whatever the reason, Aries was pissed. It was also the perfect day to go ice gliding, and she had packed a picnic of deliciously greasy fish to enjoy on the edge of a glacier. But the humans had come with their flaming arrows and magical powers, and Cedrick the dragon king had rallied all able-bodied dragons to fight.
By Camillia Simondsabout a year ago in Fiction
