Ellie Beauchamp
Stories (20/0)
Aurelia's Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Aurelia didn’t know who “he” was, even though they had shared a cell wall for at least the last two cycles. All she knew about him was that he was dead now. The Hosts, as she had taken to calling them, had taken him from his cell very loudly last night after he had made a point of banging incessantly on his door begging over and over to be let out. When Aurelia woke up this morning and he still hadn’t returned, she had moved her small handful of possessions she had acquired into his cell and claimed it for herself. His cell was the only one she’d seen in the many cycles that she’d been confined to this building that had its own window.
By Ellie Beauchampabout a year ago in Fiction
Hatchling
Gordan’s silver leathery wings pumped once more to allow him to maintain his current altitude. He loved flying on evenings like this. The sun was tucking slowly into the distant horizon, and the sky was a brilliant shade of orange. The remaining rays of sun fell on Gordan’s sleek silver scales and cast rainbows off of him. He shook out the webbed hood that protected his ears. The sparse clouds streaked across the sky like wisps of cotton, dancing to the beat of the southeastern breeze which felt soothing on the back of his long slender neck. Closing his amber eyes, he took a long deep breath of the air surrounding the woodlands. . Gordan snorted at himself. Woodland was a strong word to describe the large expanse of scorched earth that stretched beneath him. The smell of burnt wood and smoke rose up from the ashes of what once was a beautifully dense forest that he had foolishly helped burn down nearly a century ago. Being older and wiser now, he regretted his decision because it made the land look scarred and ugly. He dipped his nose toward the ground to get a closer look at the carnage. Ash billowed out in every direction as the great dragon flapped his massive wings to slow his descent.
By Ellie Beauchamp2 years ago in Fiction
Blackbird Survivor
“Nobody can hear you scream in the vacuum of space - or so they say.” My big brother’s final words from our last conversation over the GalaWeb rattled around in my head as I hefted the body of one of my ship mates to the side of the cargo bay. We had been discussing my latest decision to “shack up with the military” as he had so eloquently put it. I thought about my retort I had given so I didn’t have to think about the dead body I was placing next to the six others.
By Ellie Beauchamp2 years ago in Fiction
Last Stop: Hell's Gate
"Mister? Hey mister, wake up!" The gunslinger was jostled into consciousness by a rough hand on his shoulder, man-handling his dusty cotton shirt and leather vest. He opened his eyes to see a young man with ebony skin and wide, frightened eyes the color of acorns. He was close enough that the gunslinger could smell the sweat dampening the armpits of his collared shirt.
By Ellie Beauchamp2 years ago in Fiction