Jocelynn L. Taylor
Bio
I love writing and was finally convinced to put some of my work out there!
Follow me @chachi_taylor on Instagram! I would always love to hear any reviews, constructive criticism, or to just talk about writing and books!
Stories (23/0)
The Forest's Rage
“Are you sure it isn’t upside down?” Alex said, squinting at the ragged piece of paper. It was supposed to have obvious landmarks, but it didn’t make much sense to him. The symbols for trees and mountains were almost the exact same, and the paths and rivers had changed since the time the map was made.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor2 years ago in Fiction
Better to have loved...
9 All her begging had finally paid off. Lily was turning ten on Thursday and, normally, there weren’t any big milestones for this birthday. But this one was different. Her mom and dad had been talking in whispers for a while now. They thought Lily didn’t know what it was about. Regardless, it wasn’t a big surprise when they pulled up to a big white brick building with a dog and cat painted on it. That didn’t stop her eyes from shining as she squealed and jumped out of the car. She waited by the door impatiently as her parents made their way through what must have been molasses with the pace they were going. Not willing to annoy them when she was so close, Lily bounced in place, but kept quiet. Her father looked resigned, but Lily’s mother was smiling in amusement.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor2 years ago in Fiction
The Best and Brightest Have Fur
There is a wonderful Japanese proverb that my dad taught me. We have three faces. Our first face is the one that we show other people. It is the best performance we can give, whether it be a job interview or first date. This face is what we want people to see us as and remember us by. Our second face is the one we show to family and close friends. This is the face people talk about when they really know you. They see your strengths and weaknesses and love you for all of them.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor2 years ago in Petlife
Run of the Mill
They were everywhere. No matter which direction Morgan looked, the sticky notes were scattered around the room. Urgent messages filled them. ‘Did you finish the homework?’ ‘You need to take out the laundry.’ ‘Make sure to eat today.’ ‘Finish mowing that one part of the lawn that you know isn’t the same length as the rest of the yard so don’t even deny it!’
By Jocelynn L. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
To Be Seen
Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the brilliant flashes of light. When it was too loud and too much, she could hear the blast. The ground would vibrate under her shoes and images bombarded her mind. She forced herself to take breaths to calm down but the nausea rising in her throat was harder to justify away. A racing heart and shaky breaths sang an image to the wind of a desperate song. Her sweaty palms would rub against her pant leg as she tried to get the wet substance off her hands as fast as possible.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Eight Seconds
One. The initial jerk always took him by surprise. It sent a jolt of pressure up his spine and made him grind his teeth. His hand clutched the worn leather strap as he clung onto the giant animal. The initial buck ended and he found himself flying towards a huge set of horns. The battle had begun, a struggle of wills between a 1,500 pound monster and a man. All for the entertainment of the crowd who were sitting on the edge of their seats.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Banded and Lost: The Frost Raker
The signs had been coming for days. The peaceful druid especially noticed an oddity that had taken place while she was on the streets. A horn had sounded without any noise. Lady Silverhelm and the woman, named Astra, stopped in their steps. The feeling stirred within everyone around them. It was unsettling but no one could place what was wrong. The townspeople collectively felt their stomachs drop and could do nothing but stare and try to find the source of the wrongness. The horses drawing the wagons stopped as well, throwing their heads back in distress. Dogs and cats were silenced. Not even the flap of the bird's wings disturbed the grave-like quiet.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
A Stain of Frosting
It was amazing that a house so clean still smelled of dust. No matter how much she cleaned, it would always have a staleness that settled in the air. Even the house knew, it seemed, that there was no point in trying to impress the occupants. Or rather, the occupant. Two people lived there, but only one was alive. Alive implied a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose. She had lost that long ago, only her stubbornness kept her breathing.
By Jocelynn L. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
