Dianna Hoiland
Bio
My name is Dianna Robertson but I publish in my maiden name Hoiland. I am a 29 year old mother of 4 beautiful kids. 2 girls and 2 boys. Currently studying communications.
Stories (31/0)
Australian Nightmare
The airport, always the most annoying part of any trip. Such a tedious start to a wonderful adventure. Twenty-six hours from now I will be on Australian soil. It is currently 8pm here in New York. My excitement is boiling over, but I know the flight will be long. This is my first trip to Australia, and I plan to fill all my time with incredible memories. I have planned this trip for years. My ex-fiancé Jorge was supposed to join me, but I found him in our bed with another woman a few months ago. So here I am, alone. Bittersweet is the feeling that comes to mind, but I am determined to have the time of my life without him. This new chapter of my life will be incredible. It has already started off great. When I return, I begin my new job working for my favorite charity in their public relations department. I am so excited to finally have my dream job! I board the plane after what seems like ages getting through security and find my seat, so glad I opted for first class. My seat is comfy and roomy. The seat beside me remains empty having been meant for my ex. I quickly flag down the stewardess. Jack and coke with a sandwich. The drink will calm my nerves and the sandwich will fill my stomach so I can take the sleeping pills. I hope to sleep for as much of the flight as possible. She quickly returns with my order after takeoff. I quickly snap a picture of my meal and my first-class accommodations to post on my Instagram, then begin my meal as clouds pass my window and catch up on my social media accounts. I finish my meal and take one of the sleeping pills. As I wait for them to begin to work, I check my email. A new email from the charity has come in. They congratulate me on joining their team and briefly go over how things will play out upon my arrival next Monday. I respond with a quick message thanking them for this opportunity and end it with the standard see you Monday response. My eyes begin to feel heavy as I feel the medication kicking in and I pull out my pillow and blanket. Once I have found a comfortable position, I drift off to sleep. I am roughly shaken awake. Still groggy, I feel the plane shake again and the pilot comes over the speaker mentioning some turbulence. The stewardess approaches me and asks if I am ok. “Yes”, I respond. After a few more drinks and about an hour wasted on social media I decide I should take another sleeping pill. It quickly takes effect thanks to the alcohol in my system, and I once again drift off to sleep.
By Dianna Hoiland3 years ago in Horror
Claire
PROLOGUE A golden ray illuminates my cell, the only light in my otherwise dark world. Its stone walls are just as gloomy as always. My bed, a mat on the floor and a tiny blanket. Its spring now, so at least the cold nights are over. The rags that hang from my body do little to bring me comfort. A long robe, its faded grey color matches my surroundings. I hear the lock unlatch and a guard motions me out. He is dressed in a navy-blue uniform. His tanned skin a stark contrast to mine, pale from lack of sunshine. The dark grey halls seem like an endless maze, torches light the way. He leads me and the others that fill the cells beside me to a large hall. This is where we get our food if you can call it that. Potato soup and a slice of bread is all they ever serve. Too afraid we may revolt; they keep us weak and frail. My body appears as it is wasting away. The only curves are those from my bones sticking out beneath my skin. My cheeks are sunken in, a skeleton of my once full features. I grab my bowl silently and walk to one of the tables. We are not permitted to talk to one another, so the vast hall is silent. Guards stand at the entrance and exits. Their hateful glares burn through me. I have spent what feels like my whole life here. Never permitted to leave. When I was still just a baby, my mother, among others from the lower class revolted against those in power. They wished to overthrow the rich and the hagiarchy they have created. However, they lost and only served to increase our suffering.
By Dianna Hoiland3 years ago in Fiction
HELEN
PROLOGUE As my eyes open and shut, pain flashes through my body. I see walls, surrounding me, made of clay and stones. Where am I? My mind races. I take in my surroundings between the flutters of my heavy eyelids. Suddenly a searing pain in my head forces my eyes shut. I scream in pain, reaching for my head, something sticky is on my face. I pull my hand back and open my eyes. Trying to focus despite the agony, I see my hand, covered in dark red blood. I stare at it for a minute unable to process what I am seeing. I scream, my brain cannot function to do anything else. “She’s awake.” A voice speaks from outside the hut. Instinctually, I looked towards it. I see the door to the hut, hear hushed whispers from beyond it. Suddenly a woman rushes in, the only features I can make out in my haze, her long blonde hair and blue eyes. “It is okay.” She reassures me. She reaches for something besides the bed, a cloth, then dips it in a bowl. There’s brown, sticky looking stuff in it, and reaches for my head. “Where am I?” I forcefully stutter out. “Niflheim”, responds the woman, calmly as she reaches towards my head. The smell of the brown substance hits my nostrils. “What are you doing?” I gag, as I raise my arm to block hers. Pain sears through my arm and I screech in pain. I see spots of white shining through the red on my arm. I freeze, looking closer. My eyes focus more on my arm, bone is showing through chunks of my flesh that are torn to bits. Everything goes black as my head sinks back into the pillow beneath it. I drift off into a dreamland with memories of Jack.
By Dianna Hoiland3 years ago in Fiction