Meredith Lawless
Bio
I traveled from the Sonora Desert to the forests of Glacier near Flathead Lake. I am a struggling author, practicing my craft, while living with my husband, partner, two cats, and two dogs.
Stories (12/0)
Ijya
Ijya was born into a world of the rain and of the forest. She was surrounded by the sounds of wild animals like the tigers, monkeys, and birds. The whistling sounds of the birds often sang her into a deep sleep. Ijya was kept in a wooden basket, and was carried around on her mother’s back. She watched her mother scavenge for fruits.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Lover's Festival
A farmer's daughter was so fair, and a banker's son was so charming; to be wed only in death's bed. These lyrics have always haunted my thoughts of love. I suppose they shaped my childhood notions. It was the rhyme we all heard as children in our small town. They sang it every year for the Lover’s Festival. The town had turned an old lover’s fable into hopeful merriment. We sang, we made wishes, and we prayed for love.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Woman in the Mist
I had been abandoned at an orphanage, years ago, that was next to a mystifying bright green light. The green light was bright enough to shine through the wooded trees to us children. This light had appeared to me as it had appeared to several of the other children at one point or another. The caretakers, and babysitters, told stories about the green light. Their stories always warned that the green light lured strangers through their temptations. It was only through their temptations that it could exist. The high amount of disappearances only lent to the story’s validity. The fact that this green light would only appear on occasion, to certain people, made the story’s fiction. The disappearances were just assumed to be lost tourists.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
The Bull Society
A young woman was calmly sitting in a large desk chair awaiting the judge. The leather desk chair had been set in front of a fancy mahogany desk. The desk was cluttered with papers and binders of varied colors. A statue of a large golden bull had been placed at the head of the desk. Just behind the desk was another empty desk chair. Large bookcases lined the walls of this tiny office. Each bookcase was filled haphazardly to the brim with assorted books, papers, and random knick knacks. A large globe, made of the posh crystals that the judge had collected on his various encampment trips, sat beside his cluttered desk. The judge had the large globe made with current geographical locations.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
The Garden Thief
Many things in nature are silent, because they chose to be. The contests for human attention had become too troublesome. Nature has chosen silence to its own destruction. However, in the beginning, the world was full of wild and envious things. At first these natural forces spoke with light and gentle touches. A caress of the wind. An unexpected warmth on the skin. Then they learned to speak through whispers. As people began to listen to these whispers, other natural forces became jealous. Each plant, animal, and element started discovering new methods to continue vying for attention. Many of these natural forces began sending gifts to their human followers. Greedy humans savagely took advantage of these gifts.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Mechanical Humanity
A stranger recently died like a moldy apple. The state and the police had finished their investigation. All that was left was to clear out his musty apartment. The manager had assigned it to me, because keeping things in order was my job. I did not want to be responsible for removing this strange man’s remains. I did not want to be the person who erased this stranger from our apartments. Then again, who else would be willing to do such a thing?
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
An Offering of Cake
My era, an era of strict manners and suppression, was coming to an end. The new era, an era of industry and change, was peeking around the corner. Taking a glance out the window, I felt an urge to belong to this new era. If it were not for my developing illness, I’d have spent more time among today’s youth. My long black cotton dress was tighter than I’d been accustomed to. It’s white and black frills trailed down the front and met in a v just before my waist. If I’d had the privilege to visit these growing factories, or modern mansions, I’d be more prepared for the events of this night. At least, I’d managed to enjoy a posh life among those who believe everything must be earned through harsh labor.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Sedna
My family, and myself, had spent the day hunting. We’d become known in these waters by the fish as the great white hunters; we were the infamous great white sharks of the water. As much as I enjoyed my families hunting trips, there was always something I desired more. I desired the bright lights of the moon and stars. Swimming in their reflected lights was the closest I could come to heaven.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Welcome Gift
The sounds of someone struggling to open the door carried through the barn. There was a loud thud and then the door creaked open. The bright sunlight filled the empty space. A young man and a female child stood at the doorway. The old barn was a large open space. The wooden ground was littered with dirt, dried grass, and old hay. The wooden roof, with broken lights, was made of two slats that meet in the center. In the far back was a ladder-less loft. Unbeknownst to them, a lone Queen Anne doll sat alone in the loft. The doll remained still and witnessed the new family's arrival.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Fiction
Locked In The Heart
This city, my home, has become a silhouette full of worn relics and ashes that I can only observe mournfully. Eerily the roaming silence fills the city's spaces creating this atmospheric tranquility. In truth, the world had ended within the human psyche long before it rightfully ended; the police militia became its ominous archetype. In my youth, my mother was driven dumb and aggressive from a police militia drug raid. Their beatings only sealed her troubled fate. Her worsening behavior encouraged me to escape to the streets, as a child. To this day, I never really knew if the criminal allegations were true, or just speculation. The police militia survivors fled to the country where their fates remained unknown to me. I remained because this city, as harmful as it was, was my home and would always remain my home.
By Meredith Lawless3 years ago in Horror
