Marisa Ayers
Bio
I write what makes me laugh and what makes me cry, usually in one fell swoop.
instagram: @by.marisa.ayers
Stories (17/0)
Truth or Dare
As Carl R. Rogers said, "what is most personal is most universal." I have that quote posted by my writing desk, and I don't think I could call myself a writer with my whole chest if I neglected to share my thoughts on the most personal subject matter about which I have felt compelled to write.
By Marisa Ayers2 years ago in Humans
Julie + Dan
If you are reading this, you quite likely know the couple of the hour, Julie and Dan. Maybe you know just Julie, maybe you know just Dan, and maybe you have had the honor, as I have had, to know them together. However you know them, you certainly love them as much as I do.
By Marisa Ayers2 years ago in Humans
Leaves from the Vine
How do you even write about grief? It is not something you tackle or process, I don’t think. I’m kind of new to it, but I also am not sure any of us are prepared for it. Not really. I have grieved friendships, and family members, and failures… that alliteration was unintentional. I have known grief, but I fear our relationship was quite distant. A random person you went to school with whom you can point out in a crowd, but you only know vague details of. You don’t know their last name, but you know their home room.
By Marisa Ayers2 years ago in Humans
Curtain Call: Part IV
Tssssssss... Sloan stared at the popcorn ceiling above her while listening to Emily whistling and frying bacon down the hall. The quilt pulled up and over her nose did little to cover the smell, and Sloan’s stomach was betraying her. She could not fall back asleep being this hungry, but getting up and eating would lead to questions to which she had no definitive answers.
By Marisa Ayers2 years ago in Horror
Author's Note
Of anything I have ever written, this has taken me the longest. I had no idea where to start. I gave up multiple times. Maybe these stones were better left unturned. Maybe writing this would dig up too much. Maybe it would dig up comically little. I became quite comfortable with the fact that maybe this was not worth writing at all… for years.
By Marisa Ayers3 years ago in Confessions
Curtain Call: Part II
I did not wear the right shoes for this. Sloan ran, barely recognizing the pain of her poorly supported feet hitting the uneven cobblestone. She could not feel the faintly burning wind chill on the sides of her arms. She could not feel the pinching near her armpit as her leather bag dug into her skin through her shirt. She could not even feel the stabbing in her chest as cold, dry air was sucked into her lungs and forced out before it was ready.
By Marisa Ayers3 years ago in Horror
