Elizabeth Donovan
Stories (3/0)
Toothache
Sleep has been a mystery to me for many years now. My preteens came and so began the restlessness. I’ve always been a night owl, no question about it. It was even something I prided myself on. I would brag about staying up till two in the morning and waking up at four am just so I could be awake before everyone else. It was cool to be so bad at sleeping.
By Elizabeth Donovan 2 years ago in Humans
Swallowed Whole
When I was 10 I thought I was going to be swallowed whole by God. I was terrified of the ocean. Fortunately, my family and I lived in one of the last surface factions on Earth. Most the rest of society claimed the bottom of the ocean as their home, great big domes of glass and recycled air shielding them from the harsh sun up here. Not so conveniently, the ocean was still very much what we land dwellers relied on for everything. The air up here had turned sour and stale, and the soil was sucked dry by overuse. Everything left is dust and heat, the water harboring the only remaining sustainable life. So, we are through and through; a fishing community. I was around the age most kids started going out on fishing rigs and charter boats with their parents. I found ways to disappear on tranquil days though, when the sky was empty and the ocean was melted sea glass. Days, that would have been a perfect opportunity for a first expedition on the water. I’d been doing this for a year when both my moms sat me down and swore that if I didn’t join them on the rig I’d surely die when the day came that I had to face the ocean on my own.
By Elizabeth Donovan 3 years ago in Fiction
Fishing To Remember
In my head our destination is rugged and secluded. I imagined a shack, crouching between leaves, attempting to hide from travelers. I imagined it was a small, sad house, built forever ago and abandoned before that. It would have drooping shutters that looked like eyelids slipping into a daze, and sagging gutters full of wet leaves and sedentary slugs. Trees would have started to take the house back into their fold, branches poking through shattered windows and roots creeping up through wooden boards. Just beyond the thicket of woods would be a thin gravel road that would wind down to murky wide waters where a wooden dock would rest just barely above the waterline. Muscles and algae would grow thick underneath planks of wood and translucent weeds would tickle the bellies of minnows attempting to stay hidden from humans and fish alike.
By Elizabeth Donovan 3 years ago in Humans