Emma Ogilvie
Bio
I am health professional who writes to lighten the soul from the day to day stresses. Writing is my escape and reading brings me joy.
Stories (3/0)
The Beckoning
A voice beckons her. She wasn’t sure she heard the voice at first because she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. Despite listening carefully, she cannot make out who it is coming from, therefore, gaining her full attention. Shifting in her seat, she looks around to see if the people in the Cafe, or the people on the street, can hear the voice—they don’t. The voice seems to be coming down from somewhere near the ocean. Before she has time to register her actions, the girl stands up—the Cafe and her toast long forgotten—and begins walking down the cobblestone pathway towards the ocean.
By Emma Ogilvie2 years ago in Fiction
The Beckoning
A voice beckons her. She wasn’t sure she heard the voice at first because she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. Despite listening carefully, she cannot make out who it is coming from, therefore, gaining her full attention. Shifting in her seat, she looks around to see if the people in the Cafe, or the people on the street, can hear the voice—they don’t. The voice seems to be coming down from somewhere near the ocean. Before she has time to register her actions, the girl stands up—the Cafe and her toast long forgotten—and begins walking down the cobblestone pathway towards the ocean.
By Emma Ogilvie2 years ago in Fiction
Northern Lights
There was no warning. No information given to us from the Government. No alerts on TV. No hearsay. Nothing. Was it because the Scientists didn’t know? Or was it because they knew and just simply couldn’t do anything about it; allowing us to live our last days in peace. I get it. You wouldn’t want to tell the world we were to go extinct in less than a month, a week, a day, or hours. People would go crazy. People would panic. There would be chaos in the streets. People would get hurt. There would be riots. People would murder others because they knew there would be no consequences. It still happened—is happening—just for a shorter amount of time.
By Emma Ogilvie3 years ago in Fiction
