Mhairi Campbell
Bio
Just looking for a place to tell my stories.
Stories (16/0)
Grainne's second life
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Or, at least, that's what Grainne thought. But who knew how well babies could actually see? The little girl was probably as blind as a bat. She could do with a pair of bifocals. The aforementioned child was cooing in her pastel pink cot, her little arms reaching for a glowing yellow star hanging high above her baldy head.
By Mhairi Campbell 10 months ago in Fiction
What people wore in medieval England
Whenever medieval clothing appears on the T.V, it seems to have been given a glamorous (at least by today's standards) glow-up. Ladies wear beautiful tight fitting gowns and dirt and grime is non-existent. Chivalry is well and truly alive in knights who prance around in armour. But this is far from the truth. Fashion in the medieval period went through a lot of changes, especially regarding men.
By Mhairi Campbell 10 months ago in Styled
Yaga
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. The forest was in a liminal state: caught between the dying throes of autumn and the birth of winter. A cascade of fiery leaves rode the wind whilst flecks of snow floated softly down onto the dirt track road. The A-frame cabin was of medium size, nestled amongst the trees.
By Mhairi Campbell 10 months ago in Horror
A deal with the devil
Once upon a time I made a deal with the devil. The sky was an inferno of sunlit cloud on the edge of dusk when I found the Book of Yahweh. The desert was an orange ocean hiding stone pages that I prised from the depths of the icy tomb. I grinned, licking my lips as I recognised the ancient script.
By Mhairi Campbell 10 months ago in Fiction
Erika's flame
Ingrid: The high priest's altar was one of the few structures in Skjult that wasn't crumbling to dust. It was a square structure with lined columns masquerading as Grecian. I wanted to smash it when I was younger, when I glimpsed the bowl of coloured stones for the third time. When my sister was choosing with me. But my mother had shushed me, her pale hands trembling and we had made the long walk up and took a stone.
By Mhairi Campbell 12 months ago in Fiction
