Jacklyn Casey
Bio
Methodical writer.
Stories (5/0)
The Chorus
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The trees grew tall, and intertwined around it, through it, cracking open the wood that aged as long as a lifetime. The light from the burning wax ignited as something awoke from its deep slumber upon the first day of fall when the trees changed from greens to reds. They would chant like a chorus through their vines and moss, it’s coming, it’s coming, warning those around, only their voices would merely mix and sway with the wind, branches creaking, breaking.
By Jacklyn Casey2 years ago in Horror
It Started In Summer
I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept for years. Presumably, I’ll never sleep again… not the way I want to. It doesn’t help that this mummified human beside me smelled of death, or that I was trapped forty-five thousand feet in the air, but I’ve accepted it. I have welcomed inconsequential things into the rabbit hole.
By Jacklyn Casey2 years ago in Fiction
Ameliorate
‘’That’s the difference between you and I, I was only part of your world, but you, you were my entire world.’’ The anguish building up at the base of my throat overflowed as tears gushed. The anger I’d been building in the last twenty-four hours subsided, only to be replaced with ache; with heartbreak.
By Jacklyn Casey3 years ago in Humans