Diana Anderson
Bio
I am a mom, wife, and writer, sometimes in a different order. Throughout the day I wear many hats. My dream for many years has been to write and share my words with the world. Welcome to the beginning of that dream.
Stories (12/0)
The Hunt
It was Halloween. Again. And the monster whispered in Marcus's ear, telling him it was time. But Marcus didn't want to listen to the monster. The things it told him to do, the things it made him do, were not things he wanted to do. But it was an itch he had to scratch, a need he had to fill. Like clockwork each year a few days before Halloween, the monster would start whispering, getting louder and louder until the whispers were all he could hear.
By Diana Anderson3 months ago in Fiction
Dracae
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There was a time when dragons were considered creatures of myth, mystical beings from fairytales and folklore. When dragons came down from their hiding place in the mountains, they knew they were in danger. Dragons were mighty beings, but if one knew their secrets, the dragons became prey, rather than predator. So they swore fealty to the king, promising they’d fight for him and his bloodline as long as the king’s bloodline was on the throne. In return, the king swore that as long as his bloodline had the dragons’ loyalty, they were safe from harm. The promise was then sealed on a bloodstone, which has remained under constant guard in the bowels of the king’s castle. Those dragons that remained in the valley took their human form. They became known as the dracae and so it has remained for over a thousand years.
By Diana Anderson2 years ago in Fiction
The Garden
The garden was overgrown now, but still he wanted to sit. Annie had always loved taking care of the garden. She worked in it every day, kneeling on her knees to pull weeds, or stooping over plants to trim them, or planting new seeds and bulbs. Every morning, like clockwork, she could be found with her once-pink gloves and her straw hat, putting love into her plants. Every day, that was, until she’d had a stroke. Steve didn’t know how, but he’d known something was wrong and he went to check on her. He found her, a bundle of flowers still clutched in her hand, sprawled on the grass. She was barely breathing. He had just enough time to take hold of her hand and tell her that he loved her. Then he watched as the life left her eyes.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Families
The Soldier's Son
Alexander sat high in the pear tree. Juices from the fruit dripped down his hands, leaving a sticky line. He sat in the tree and licked his hands clean. He was seven and a half years old and in exactly one week he would enter the second grade. But for now, he was content to sit in the tree and eat all the pears his stomach could handle.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Families
The Winter Soltice
She didn't know what, but something always drew Emily back to the pond. At least once a week she found herself there, circling the water. Now that winter was taking hold, her visits were more and more frequent. Sometimes she'd bring a book, thinking she'd sit on the rickety, wooden bench and lose herself in some reading. But she never did. Instead she'd realize she'd spent the last hour staring into the depths below the lapping water of the pond.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Fiction
The Letter
Hidden away on the inside of the jacket he found a letter, its creases worn. It was one he had read a thousand times, but that he'd not seen in quite some time. The jacket, a black, leather biker’s jacket which he'd once worn nearly every day, had been tucked away in the corner of his closet. The motorcycle he’d long ago gotten rid of, but he couldn’t ever bring it on himself to get rid of the jacket. Once more, he opened the letter and read.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Families
On The Rocks
It seemed like it had been so long since he had been here. Really, it had only been a few months. But in those few months he'd lived an entire life. Time slowed down now that she wasn't there. Walking to the rock, "their rock" as they had come to call it, brought back a burst of memories--her giggling as she slipped on the moss, the sunlight spilling through the clouds across her face, a single kiss stolen before a wave splashed them both with sea spray. He could feel the now familiar way his heart began to pound harder and faster. , his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He sat down on the rock, the waves lapping at his feet, and waited for the panic attack to subside. He had forgotten to bring his pills, which the doctor had prescribed after he'd nearly lost his mind at the funeral. He'd never experienced a panic attack before then and had assumed he was dying of grief. How stupid of him to forget the pills now, on such an important day--their wedding day.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Humans
Midnight Ride
The city burned, fire lighting up the night sky. Adelaide turned her head away. They would pay, whether with their lives or with grief and despair she did not care. She was close enough she could still feel the warmth of the blazes brushing her cheeks. “Let’s go, Shadow,” she whispered to her horse, nudging him with her knees. His huff could barely be heard as he obeyed, taking her further into the forest. The snapping of twigs beneath his feet echoed across the otherwise eerily silent woods. As they travelled, Adelaide thought of the events leading up to this midnight ride.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Horror
Final Statement
I was abandoned as a baby. Left in a dumpster by a terrified girl who was too young to have given birth. She didn’t realize a security guard saw her hanging around the dumpster, watched as she drove away in her beat-up Station Wagon, and took note of her license plate number. He investigated the dumpster, but she had hidden me beneath some cardboard boxes, so he missed me. It wasn’t until the next day, when an employee opening the store behind which the dumpster sat heard my wails, that I was discovered.
By Diana Anderson3 years ago in Horror
