Iris Harris
Bio
An aspiring novelist. I enjoy writing ghost, horror, and drama. Occassionally, I dabble with some essays. You can find more of my work with the link below:
Stories (93/0)
My Skate Sisters
She stands on the coping, staring down the six-foot wall. Wheels resting on the metal bar that meets the concrete. Taking a deep breath, she extends her right leg over the coping and drops into the bowl. Wind kisses her ear. She levels out on the surface bottom for three seconds, then proceeds to scale the adjacent wall on her eight wheels. Her black-colored blocks, which are attached to the truck of her quad-skates, land gracefully upon the coping. She slides her right leg out and brings in back within the one-second stall she is given. When her leg returns under her, she falls into a fakie (rolling backwards) back down into the bowl. With a quick 180-hop, she faces the metallic edge where she started. The sheer momentum carries her back up the wall, allowing her to roll into the next combination. Cheers from her skating sisterhood echo the skatepark, accompanied by the tapping of skateboards.
By Iris Harris8 days ago in Humans
- Top Story - March 2024
The Journey to Self-LoveTop Story - March 2024
“If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you going to love someone else?” The famous quote from the Queen themself: RuPaul. The purpose of the quote is simple: self-love needs to be the foundation for any relationship. However, the road to discovering self-love may take years for many, myself included.
By Iris Harris17 days ago in Pride
- Top Story - January 2024
Girls’ Night OutTop Story - January 2024
Girls’ night out! I hear it all the time, but rarely have I been fortunate enough to enjoy it with my sister. I nudge her with excitement, and we clench the opportunity. Usually, when we hear those three words, our attendance is often overlooked. Tonight, everything changes with the agenda, including dinner and dancing. Dancing, the honey to a tea of nostalgia. Occasionally, we are invited to dinner. After all, our exquisite appearance matches perfectly with a fancy five-star restaurant. Our sparkling petit bodies shimmer like a red ruby. But, dancing was taboo. The last dance adventure was months ago, almost leading to our separation by the excitement it conjured. Despite the past hazard, several drinks at dinner later, we are enfolded by a mass of people and booming music in the club. Everyone is dancing in-sync to the latest hip/hop trap beat compiled with electronic dance music. As the four by four measured time signature strikes the ear, I feel every strand of hair moving rhythmically against my body. Alcoholic euphoria fills the atmosphere, and I become intoxicated by the ambience. Every jerky bob begins to weaken my grip on my safety, raising the level of danger with every intensified beat drop. Gradually, black out from the melodic menacing machine, thrusted down into a drunken stupor.
By Iris Harris2 months ago in Fiction
The Case of the Missing Report
“Oh my gosh. I’m so glad you two are here. I need your help in finding a paper,” Kramer exclaimed as Harry and Angel walked into the room. “Harry, you look in the file cabinet in the corner of the room. Angel, check inside the closet. I’ll check the desk. It has to be in here, and we only have minutes to find it,” Kramer demanded, attacking the desk immediately. His wrinkled fingers pushed aside stray blank white papers. Clearly not what he was searching for.
By Iris Harris3 months ago in Criminal
- Top Story - November 2023
My Island DreamTop Story - November 2023
I sit in the beach lounge chair, enjoying the sparkling, crystal blue water of the ocean in front of me. Though the waves were inviting me to dive into them, I opted to sit in the chair. Sunbathing suited me better than swimming in the ocean. The waves gently caress the shores; the breeze whispering in my ears.
By Iris Harris4 months ago in Fiction
Three Words
Mandy: I love you Terrance read the text repeatedly, brushing his brown, unkept hair out of his eyes. He sat at the table and dropped a heavy sigh. He refused to look up from his phone, contemplating his response to her text. Annoyance flashed over his pale-colored face.
By Iris Harris5 months ago in Fiction
Teacher Shortage in America
Greetings, Vocal Community! What many people may not be aware of is that I am also a full-time educator, and working in the classroom limits my time allocated to writing. I have been in the classroom for nearly two decades, and thought I would start sharing my professional thoughts and experience about a profession I spent so much of my life dedicated to. This will become my monthly series, with this month’s focus: Teacher Shortage.
By Iris Harris5 months ago in Education
Unlocking My Love Part 3
Welcome back, readers. If you have been following this little three-parter I have created, you know about my first written story and how I strayed from the writer’s path during high school. However, if this is your first time reading this short jaunt down memory lane, I shall direct you to where you can visit previous installments. You can read, or revisit, those crucial points in my writing journey here: Part 1 and Part 2. Would I consider those my first writing piece is a matter of perspectives? Sure, both were written in the form of freelance, but the title of my first official story for eyes beyond my own goes to a piece I wrote for a writing contest.
By Iris Harris6 months ago in Writers
Unlocking My Love
Welcome back! In the last entry, I had a taste of freelance creative writing, but spat it out because I had lacked the will to acquire the refine flavor of writing. It took a little over half a decade to develop a passion for the craft. During my senior year of high school, I knew I wanted to be a creative, freelance writer with the dream of publishing a novel.
By Iris Harris6 months ago in Writers
Unlocking My Love
My very first writing piece started when I was in fifth grade. Prior to writing it, I never thought I wanted to become a writer. Not many elementary school kids think, “I enjoy writing, I want to make a hobby out of it!” I was no exception. Why would I want to spend my time doing the one activity I disliked the most in school? I mean, we were always forced to write book report, narratives, essays, and more. However, what did separate me from my peers was my insatiable love for reading.
By Iris Harris7 months ago in Writers