Denise Willis
Bio
I love art as much as writing, and when the world feels dark, I get out my paper and colored pencils and draw while listening to music. When my husband and I were going through a divorce, journaling is what got me through that..
Stories (128/0)
Learning to Let Go
When I was younger I was a ball of fire, always ready to get into the argument and state my opinion, even if it wasn't popular. In my relationships, I would get upset and state my mind, in detail, and one time I got so mad at my husband I slammed the cupboard door until it banged closed, open, and closed again. I was angry and everybody knew it.
By Denise Willis5 months ago in Humans
Paleous Jerard Tom Pettingsworth Dragon
Tο»Ώhe jar of Dragon's scale moisturizer made a loud clinking noise as the jar flew across the porcelain sink and spun to a stop by the drain. Paleous Jerard Tom Pettingsworth stood motionless and stared at the pot as it spun around one last time in the sink. He knew he was smart, yeah, pretty smart for a fifteen-year-old dragon. A sly smile began to form on his shiny, dragon lips. He was the best-looking dragon in town, but nobody else seemed to notice. Sure, he was unique with his multicolored scales. Elvis was extraordinary and so were the Beatles; everybody loved them, so by the mighty God of the moon, Paleous Jerard Tom Pettingsworth swore he would not change a thing about himself to please anyone! The other dragons would see his worth in time.
By Denise Willis6 months ago in Fiction
My White Spirit Dog
Thirty Years Ago: My mother had passed away two weeks earlier, and I slept on the couch most of the time, day and night. One morning, I was napping on the sofa and woke up, but I could not move or talk. I could only observe and watch my grandmother, mother, sister, and myself doing laundry in the kitchen sink. In my vision, it was a beautiful spring day. I could see outside and noticed a small black dog looking up at the three people she was with and then back over at me. It was cold and icy outside, but she appeared to glow with a beautiful white light surrounding and filling her.
By Denise Willis7 months ago in Petlife
The Scar Grinned At Me From the Mirror
It was twisted and purple, ugly, and was grinning back at me. I slammed my eyes closed, sweat running down my forehead. The staples hurt today, and I expected the scar underneath to be ugly, but nothing like this. The incision ran from my left arm across my chest to my right arm, where the intruder had cut me before I shot him. He lay bleeding on the floor and started smiling, and the smile turned into a hilarious laugh as he died, and I swear he was still laughing when he passed away. A day I would rather forget.
By Denise Willis7 months ago in Fiction
Can Time Really Fly?
I was drifting into sleep when I felt a slight tickle on my left ankle, reached down to scratch it, and noticed my shoe felt odd, large, and clunky, unlike the slender pumps I had put on this morning when I left my apartment for work. Oh my God! Where was I? This train isn't the commuter train I had boarded ten minutes ago! I always slept on the commuter train until I felt it stop at the station, but this train was racing out of control, shifting me back and forth in my seat. The seat covers were old and torn, and dirt on the floor accumulated in the cracks of the rubber matting in the aisles. The window next to my face reeked of earth, and it was hard to see out, but from what I could see, old cars driving past the train had to be from the 1950s!
By Denise Willis8 months ago in Fiction
Death Touched Me When I Was Eight
The story and the child in the picture are fictional, and the account of what happened that day at Rob Elementary school is a fictional account of what a child may have seen. Nineteen students and two teachers died at the hands of an unbalanced young man with no parental guidance to fall back on. He shot his grandmother before going to the school to attack innocent children and posted it on social media.
By Denise Willis9 months ago in Fiction
It Was Complicated
I never knew my father with anything but silver hair. He was fifty-seven when I was born. My father had an almost genius IQ, but he also had many problems that kept him from succeeding. He was a paranoid schizophrenic at a time when there was no medication for the mental disorder. My father was also bipolar, and being bipolar myself, I can tell you it is a complex disorder.
By Denise Willis9 months ago in Families
