Jillian Spiridon
Bio
just another writer with too many cats
twitter: @jillianspiridon
Stories (325/0)
The Fifteenth of June
The first time he lived the day of June 15th, Peter was kicked out of his house when his dad was drunk. The old man had taken Peter’s guitar case, a half-filled backpack, and the boots by the door and tossed them out into the mud on the decrepit brown grass. Peter had been ready to throw out a punch, but he was too worried about his guitar case and the aging beauty inside. He could still remember tuning it for the first time while his mother—no cancer then—had looked on with affection in her eyes.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Families
The Seventh Sense
Zadriel dipped into the Seeing Pool head-first, as she had been taught, to allow the microcosmic sensors to attach to her brain. From there, it was easy to awaken the senses that allowed her to reach out with her mind and contort the world around her. Recreationally, it was called Wakeful Dreaming, or Dreaming While Aware, depending on which classified circles you were frequenting. The first time, it had been eerie, to project outward her mind’s every sensation and synapse made real, but over time it had become as simple as blinking and being able to see everything around her. Such was the way of what the scientists called “the seventh sense” in their studies and the drafts of their articles.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Futurism
Prince of Thorns
There were beasts—and then there were monsters. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. In a world so crisscrossed with magic and its after-effects, there could be some fog in the lens that made it difficult to determine who was friend or foe, predator or prey.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Futurism
Mercy Wilde
“Will it hurt?” The nurse doesn’t even bother answering the question as she swipes an alcohol wipe over the injection site. It’s not the first time Mercy has irritated the hospital staff by peppering them with questions. Ever since she arrived here in this bare room, she had known she would be a nuisance whether she liked it or not. It was the nature of her condition.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Horror
Athena in Theory
Eighteen years ago, she had been named after the Greek goddess of wisdom. Her mother Alexa, a linguistics and history professor, thought she was doing her newborn daughter a favor. After all, weren’t names defining in and of themselves? Maybe Athena Scarpelli would go on to do great things that would astound her family.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Humans
Bitter Seeds
Savanna Lewis had been tailor-made to be her mother’s daughter. When she was six years old, her mother marched her down to the apartment of old Marjorie Deargood and handed her over to the widow for proper lessons on cooking and baking. From that day, she learned how to whisk efficiently, how to make the perfect loaves of bread, how to anticipate when a cake was good and ready to be pulled from the jaws of the oven.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Humans