Krystena Lee
Bio
Krystena Lee is a freelance writer & author of the Memory Verse Kids™ books & Ears to Hear, a paranormal fiction novel. Her articles & fiction pull back the curtain on the unseen & make the unknowable known.
krystenalee.com/links
Stories (10/0)
A Titanic Story: The Missing Chinese Sailors and the Haitian President's Daughter
Fang Lang looked at his wife from across the forward deck of the merchant ship, SS Ardent, they’d forcibly boarded. “To the hold!” Josephine called to her small contingent in Creole. She drove the dagger with the gold filigree handle into the spine of the nearest sailor and led the way.
By Krystena Lee2 years ago in Fiction
Chance Encounters #2: There Are No Strangers in NYC
The city smells like food and traffic. My feet shuffle as I ride the force of the crowd behind me making their way through the clogged pedestrian arteries of afternoon Manhattan. I’m here from Baltimore visiting my friend, Kandis.
By Krystena Lee2 years ago in Humans
Chance Encounters #1: One Flea Market, Two Gods
My husband loves rummage sales and I love oddities, so we’re here on a sunny summer day scratching our itch for both at the Wagon Wheel Flea Market. We peer down haphazard corridors made boggy by a kind of humidity typically reserved for rainforests. I can smell popcorn, old paper and dust. They form one new scent. Cheap.
By Krystena Lee2 years ago in Humans
Top 3 Ways Millennials Blow It During Job Interviews
When I was in college, we had mock interviews. The instructor provided the format and some starter questions such as, “Tell me about yourself.” “Why do you want to work here?” And the dreaded, “What’s your greatest weakness?” The answer to which should of course be a strength spun to sound like a weakness.
By Krystena Lee2 years ago in Lifehack
Leaving the House
Uriah, an introverted and unconventional beauty, cared very little for either of the houses she lived in. The one on Montrose Street had doors that didn’t quite seal and drafty single pane windows with paint for caulk that left her wont to visit friends frequently in the winter or otherwise wear outerwear indoors. The other dwelling, which she most despised, was the cage that housed her very soul. Striking and alluring to the eyes of men, envied by as many women, Uriah herself had even taken note of the curvaceousness of her breasts and hips as desirable physical structures. Never the less the house of skin and bone held her hostage and was subpar to her real body.
By Krystena Lee3 years ago in Fiction
The Debt Must Be Paid in Full
My chest tightened; it was squeezing my heart to a standstill. Every muscle in my body seized. I held my chin high, and looked serene, just as my mother would have. My steely hair up in a bun on top of my head, just like she wore hers. I look like her from the iridescent scales that run down my midnight colored shoulders and thighs to my fingers, overly long for a human with fingertips more talon than fingernail. Still in moments like these—a very human cold sweat rolls down my back. My breaths are short and shallow enough to remind me that I am not a fierce, powerful half dragon who commands fear and respect. I’m just a lone hatchling of a meager 13 years. For three seasons I’ve been running my family’s inn—the exact number of seasons that have passed since my father died of grief.
By Krystena Lee3 years ago in Fiction
