Emily Wohlstadter
Bio
Passionate and creative writer
Let's capture the world with our stories
Stories (7/0)
When the Ship Stopped Sailing
Edmund Fitzgerald had always enjoyed his life at sea. As a child, his parents would take him down to the beach to play in the sand and surf. His soft, curly brown hair tousled in the gentle sea breeze. He never minded. The old and quiet harbor of the fishing port they called home, supplied Edmund and this family with just the right amount of contentment. Being that Edmund came from a poorer disposition, he learned to value what little he could have. Just before his father died in a boating accident while working, he taught him how to sail. Even though he was only seven, Edmund took to the sport quickly. The wealthy owner of the fishing business his father worked at let them borrow his own sailing cruiser, but it cost his father two days’ pay each time.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in Horror
Dear Mom,
Dear Mom, You have known me all my life. You were there when I took my first breath. You were there when I started school. You were there when I scraped my first knee. You were there through the divorce. You were there when I got my first job. You were there when I started college.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in Families
Chances Are, You Enjoy Eating Plastic
Without even knowing it, you have been eating the weight of a credit card in plastic every week. You may be wondering, "How is this possible?" Well, the answer lies all around you. The device you are reading this story off of is made up of some plastic. So is the water you may be drinking, and more obviously, the plastic items and containers you use in your everyday life. It is no secret that plastic has become a normal part of our everyday life. We depend so much on plastic that most of us think very little about what it's made of and where it will end up once we are done using it.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in FYI
Writer's Block
I was sitting on my couch watching the rain cling to the windows. The little beads sounded like pebbles against the glass. I was afraid the window would break. The heavy blue curtains let only a streak of light from the outside world in. I tried not to let my gaze wander across the dark living room. I didn’t want to see the pale yellow wallpaper peeling away at the edges or the ugliness of the cluttered papers, bills, and junk.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in Families
Stories from Around the World:
It was always the staircase I descended to greet my guests. It was majestic—the smell of old wood. History. Knowledge. The decadent crown molding ascending with various carvings etched into the polished Mahogany wood. Colors like the sea, waves and flowery patterns making up the composition. The red velvet, sweet and delicate carpet covering the steps. Standing the test of time, existing solely to provide structure and comfort to the living. The framework—the Bones.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in Poets
Paper Clips, Cigarettes, & Alcoholism
Dear Dad, Do you know how much I love you? I hope you do because I love you a lot. It hurts me every time I see you and I know you know why. You are dying before my eyes because you choose to seek ill comfort in a bottle and a cigarette. Your skin is always itching and sometimes appears yellow. Your eyes are yellow and bloodshot, and it’s not because you are "tired." The ends of your nails are swollen and yellow. Your breath smells like a sweet nothing.
By Emily Wohlstadter3 years ago in Families
