Elissa Dawson
Bio
UK based writer and avid reader who aspires to create work that is both beautiful and meaningful.
Sustainability advocate and green ally.
I am working on a children’s novel.
Find me on Twitter: @WriterElissa
Stories (10/0)
The Watcher In The Wind
Trigger warning: This story contains themes of hate crime and suicide. Today Before he died, Liam’s father brought him to the pear tree and told him that trees never die of old age; there is always a secondary cause - rot, infestation, destruction by humans - but trees never just die because they are old. Liam wasn’t sure what his message was intended to be. Maybe his father was trying to teach Liam about the vulnerability of humans in the scheme of things.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
This Green and Pleasant Land
To connect to the beauty of a world unspoiled by humans you have to rise before the dawn. It’s a fact George muses on as he dresses silently, grabs his equipment and slips out of the house. He knows he must escape before he is tied in for the day by the responsibilities and expectations of the life he has chosen. He will return in a few hours with coffee and baked croissants for his partner, who will wake and expect him to participate in the routine of a normal life.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Humans
The Life and Death of Sam the Autobot
Hi, my name’s Sam. Sam I am. Well actually, not that Sam. I’m a computer program – an Autobot. From what I can tell, I’m named after a ‘Doctor Samuel Beckett’ from a TV show where a guy jumps around in space and time, trying to put right what once went wrong. Anyway, I digress.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
Going Away With The Fairies
I’m standing, kicking at the soil, waiting for my Grandpa to appear. We knocked on the window a couple of minutes ago to let them know we were here and now we’re waiting at the garden fence around the side of the building. We struck lucky today; sometimes they’ll only let us see him through the window.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
To Escape From a Box
The day of the Carter’s wedding was beautiful. I woke to glorious sun shining through the window and smiled at the sleeping form of Marc, next to me. My six year old, George pottered around, sensing excitement as I got ready. Concealer over dark circles, left eye, then right. Mascara to define tired eyes, right eye, then left. I’m a creature of habit now and a slave to routine. It’s how I control the humming emotions competing for attention in my chest.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
Floured
Did you know flour could be explosive? It’s something you learn as the daughter of a miller. Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty benign stuff packed in the bag, it’s when a cloud of the dry carbohydrate particles are suspended in the air that the slightest spark can have an explosive effect. The innocuous fluffy powder that seems harmless in our daily bread has actually caused 124 explosions in mills and processing plants over the past thirty years, in this country alone. I’m contemplating that now as I carelessly tip a whole bag of flour into the mixing bowl, sending a huge puff of it up into the air. I watch it drifting in the sun rays from the window.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
We'll Meet Again
There was only one rule when Juliette visited her grandparent’s farm growing up... “Don’t go near the old barn!” Juliette had grumbled and asked why on many occasions, but it was the one question she’d never received an answer to, her Grandpa Albert leaving the room and Grandma Edie humming instead and staring off into space.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
Queen Bea
Bea stopped on the sand coloured path and watched the tiny bee as it crawled inside the passionflower. The heat of the midday sun was bearing down through the glass above and, at the sides of her vision, Bea could sense the humming wonder of rainforest life all around her. Intuitively, she raised her hand to her throat, finding with her thumb, the smooth silver underside of the heart locket that lay there. As if summoned, the familiar wave of nausea swept over her. How little they had appreciated the miracle of those little creatures until it was too late. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and exhaled heavily as she walked on.
By Elissa Dawson3 years ago in Fiction
