E.N. Gussler
Bio
Writer. Photographer. World-traveler. Adventurer. Ohio State Alum.
A California native living in Ohio, I pull inspiration from my travels & life around me.
Co-creator: VoyagersPen.com
Stories (17/0)
Lost and Found
The ground beneath me is cold and damp. I can feel it seeping through my fractured spine as I rest sprawled out and open. The rain pattering against worn leather, the delicate fingers of the ink soaking up the rain, I wait in utter despair to feel the sun upon my face. This was not the fate I had imagined, to be discarded.
By E.N. Gussler3 months ago in Fiction
Unmasked
The version of me you get, depends entirely on you. I never thought of it as masking, even though I have a child on the Autism Spectrum and have learned a lot about masking as a whole. However, looking back on my life, so many things have started to make sense. It was surprising on one hand, but not entirely shocking, when I decided to take a closer look at myself.
By E.N. Gussler5 months ago in Humans
Identity Thieves
Sometimes you wake up and you know exactly what to expect...from the day, from life, and from the universe. Other times, you are faced with a strange sense of change on the horizon, even if you can't put your finger on it. I find that I go through this metamorphosis on a somewhat regular interval. I can't exactly predict it, but it feels cyclical. Every so often I wake and just don't feel like myself anymore.
By E.N. Gussler5 months ago in Humans
- Top Story - December 2023
SongbirdTop Story - December 2023
There is always pain in life. It seems as if life isn’t worth living if there isn’t pain involved. To grow is to know pain. To love is to know pain. To learn is to know pain. Children are cruel. They poke fun at anything they can notice that is different about another. They migrate into groups of the haves and the have nots, but on the outskirts of those groups are the undesirables. The ones that don’t fit into any mold offered to them.
By E.N. Gussler5 months ago in Humans
Wanderer
Forever my feet will drive me to roam. To wander the world in search of experiences and adventures so rich that my stomach aches. Strange places do not feel foreign to me, they are like long lost friends, welcomed back into my embrace with new, fresh eyes. The sights, the sounds, and scents of a new city flood my senses, igniting the ancestral memories embossed upon my soul. The architectural faces of ancient stones wear a familiar smile, and on the wind the echoes of voices lifted in songs that once vibrated in my bones. I feel connected to every place I touch, the streets a memory washed and faded by the waves of the sea. There is a homesickness nestled deep in my core, for places I have yet to experience; a longing that reaches into my chest and breaks my heart.
By E.N. Gussler5 months ago in Wander
An Empty Nest
Eighty-one days after my 20th birthday, I became a mom. Three hundred and seventy days after that, I welcomed my second child, just eighty-six days after my 21st birthday. Being a young parent certainly had its advantages. Loads of energy to chase after two toddlers, for one. But it had disadvantages too. I didn't have the same experiences as other 20-somethings. I was fortunate, however, to have a handful of other 20-something moms to spend time with. Our world was different than most women our age, but we built our own experiences and grew up together as much as our children did.
By E.N. Gussler11 months ago in Confessions
Heirloom
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. Which was nothing new, to be honest. I’d been seeing this funhouse version of myself in the heirloom ever since Matthew’s death. The first time that twisted face stared back at me, my heart raced, breath went ragged and I nearly wet myself. But 3 years later, I meet that blank gaze every morning with an emotionless one of my own. I don’t know what that says about me, but it has become a weirdly comforting ritual…her blank face staring into mine.
By E.N. Gusslerabout a year ago in Fiction
Run
The sun was just coming up over the mountains as the low fuel light came on and Penelope dug through her black bag for her last cigarette. She was going to need to pull over soon. Her ass went numb three hundred miles ago and she needed to pee. Leaving her cigarette dangling from her lips, she rummaged through the center console for a lighter and looked in her rearview mirror at her smeared eyeliner and messy hair. She took a long drag of her cigarette as she lit it and tossed the lighter onto the passenger seat. She exhaled, watching the smoke swirl around her eyes and into her ears in a comforting cloud before reaching for the hand crank to roll down her window. The air was crisp and blowing snowflakes huddled together on the side of the lonely road. Ahead she could see the dull glow of the faded neon lights of a service station. As she drew closer, her 1984 Ford Fairmont began to shudder, begging for fuel.
By E.N. Gusslerabout a year ago in Fiction
Spell of Flame & Sea
The fading embers of daylight reflected in the young ones eyes, captivating Drayce. Breath hung heavy in the air around them as the child peered at him, quizzically. Urgent rustling of leaves, angry voices growing louder, the breath slowly released from his lungs. Only then did the little being slowly blink, and a ribbon of fear laced through the angelic face. He had to act quickly if he was to save her.
By E.N. Gusslerabout a year ago in Fiction
Home
Like the breath of death upon the back of my neck I feel the burning warmth of winter, stretched out before me, as it crawls up my fingertips and settles into my bones. There is something indescribable about the thundering silence of a snow blanketed scene. Its expanse, a limitless suffocation, frozen in place.
By E.N. Gussler2 years ago in Humans
