Eliza Vargas
Bio
LA, aspiring singer, actress, and writer
Stories (40/0)
The Hardest Part
Saying goodbye was the hardest part. He had been my whole world for so long and now it was just over. I thought we were happy, I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together but when I put that ring on my finger...I felt nothing new.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Poets
A Love that Destroys
Where are my friends? A mist all the noise and people in the bar she feels the sensation of someone staring at her. Who did I come with again? As she looked in the direction she felt the sensation coming from, she began to feel strange. Something was off but she couldn't tell what it was. When did I even come to the bar? She spots a strange person in the corner. She almost misses them with all the people moving at a strangely much faster rate than that of her and the strange figure. It was like they were in different worlds. Where am I?
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Horror
The Nightmare
I'm in the top bunk in the cabin getting ready for bed, sneakily eating a doughnut before my aunt comes in to check on me. She never allows us to eat any sweets after eight, even though I was now fifteen and not a small child. My cousin isn't coming until tomorrow from college in Washington so I am the only one sleeping in the room for the night. I always sleep on the bottom bunk for some reason when I come to visit my aunt and cousin but this time I wanted a change of scenery. I finished eating my doughnut and got rid of any possible evidence that I was eating one from my face and the bed. I get under the covers and close my eyes to act like I am falling asleep. I wasn't at all tired but my aunt would wait for me to fall asleep if I wasn't already by nine. She always said it was because she didn't trust my cousin and I to not wake her in the middle of the night if we didn't go to bed before her. I begin to hear footsteps clacking down the hall on the wooden floor, growing closer to the room, like a small heel from a sandal, probably my aunt's slippers.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Horror
Sex With Bloody Mary
It was just another Saturday night when me and some of my friends were playing Truth or Dare. You could say we were inspired by all the Truth or Dare gone wrong movies that are out there. So we were feeling a bit gutsy and very drunk and figured it would be fun to "scare" ourselves. We were all sitting in my boyfriend Ben's living room by the fire, beers and shot glasses all around.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Horror
I'd Like to Think That I Can Be Fixed
I have come to the theory that I am broken and need to be fixed. I feel like a malfunctioning microchip from a computer. One of those that cause several pop ups that tell you you have about 100 viruses now coursing through your software.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Psyche
The Unknown
Everything is dark. I feel like my eyes are open but I can't see a thing. Everywhere around me it is pitch black. I try to move but I find myself to be unable to. I can't tell whether or not I am bound to something or confined in a small place. With every move that I try to make my skin burns. Not just on the surface but deep down as if whatever was causing the feeling was flowing through my bloodstream. I feel the sensation all over my body.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Horror
The Power of Performance
Today I went to see the Dance Concert, one of many performances, that are put on at my performing arts college. It touched on a lot of topics like "we the people," "justice for all," "powerful women" and the issues we have been having with public and school shootings. What I loved about this is that it did it in such a powerful way. I have always thought things like music and dance and painting and other creative art forms have such a greater power than people tend to realize. This performance reminded me of that. Not only because each and every dancer was extremely talented with the fluidity they had from one move to the next, or the way they used their strength to do a certain move making each dance elegant or fierce. It was the idea that each dance, even if some of the moves or techniques were the same, had a unique message even if they are all going towards the same cause. It's like each person was fighting with their bodies, fighting with the passion they put into every movement and every specific detail. Of course they had the help of the very touching music, audio, or visuals that were shown to help convey their message. That doesn't change the fact that in one way or another every member of the audience was touched by each dance and each individual dancer.
By Eliza Vargas6 years ago in Motivation