
Mina Wiebe
Bio
Figuring things out; finding my voice. Thanks for visiting.
Achievements (1)
Stories (14/0)
The Speech
“The fact is: you can’t fear death, in water that cold. Maybe at first, for a moment, when you still have hope. But as we watched those lifeboats paddle away from our screams, it didn't take long to realize help wasn't coming. Not for us. At that point, all you can do is pray for it to end. And you wait. That’s all any of us could do. I survived because I was one of the few to hold on long enough. Not from hope–but from spite.”
By Mina Wiebeabout a month ago in Fiction
The Ooze from Apartment 9B
Wheeled suitcase in tow, Abigail noticed an offensive odour heavying the hallway air from the cracks of apartment 9B. She paused aside the faded door, its yellow paint chipped and freckled to carpet; a strange sight, as the specks had never been given the chance to collect and pile as they did now. She avoided the door’s peephole in a crouched snoop, her nose twitching like a rabbit, inhaling deeply. At first gasp, the scent was putrid; rancid, with a lingered, off-putting sweetness that lured her closer to the gaps in the doorframe. She extended her legs from the crouch and continued to breathe in the thick, spoiled air; curious, and repulsed.
By Mina Wiebe5 months ago in Fiction
I Was Obsessed with Editing Myself for Social Media
How to Look Good in Photos (According to an Eleven Year Old): ☑ Smile with your mouth closed. ☑ Stick your head out to avoid a double chin. ☑ Raise your eyebrows. ☑ Delete the photo if your nose looks too big.* ☑ * Or if your cheeks look too round. ☑ Or if your smile looks crooked. ☑ Or if it shows how big your body is.
By Mina Wiebe5 months ago in Motivation
Lizzie and the Bull
When Grandma left for the stars, her children journeyed back to the island to help strip their childhood home to its bones. While they all stepped from ferry to dock, my mother and I had the luxury of a brief stroll. I had long memorized the imagined trail from our house to Grandma’s, and I’d learned to watch for the home’s Victorian trim growing over the hill as we neared its peak. That day however, my mother refused to let me stop for stones or eye-catching fungi. There would be no window sills for Grandma to display them; no stews for Grandma to add them to.
By Mina Wiebe10 months ago in Fiction
Funeral Flowers: How I Found Peace in the Art of Preservation
Losing Yourself in a Loss In the weeks following my father’s passing, the once bright and fragrant funeral flowers had begun to wilt, sag, and mold. It was bleak to see their vibrant colours fade, and the comfort they’d initially brought slowly shifted to dread. Their decay was a reminder, that while I’d been stuck in my bubble of mourning, the rest of the world had continued to move forward.
By Mina Wiebe10 months ago in Motivation
The Tradition
When Ginger learned her father had left for a mistress in Maui, it was eleven days short of her thirteenth birthday. Her mother was neither surprised nor devastated by the news; in fact, she was annoyed by the hassle of pretending to be heartbroken. Ginger happily helped with the theatrics that would save them both the boredom of crocodile tears: rouge to the nose, smudged mascara, and piles of wrinkled tissues, crumpled for show, as neither considered wasting tears over the man’s absence.
By Mina Wiebe10 months ago in Fiction
Pretty in White
“Oh, it’s horrid. Hideous. You can’t wear it, I won’t let you,” he insisted, tail whipping behind him furiously, left to right, like eyes to a tennis match. His stare was yellow and unblinking, the slits of his pupils thin as pencil lead. He was perched in the rafters, watching me from above. I laughed.
By Mina Wiebe10 months ago in Fiction
Excavate
Maisie shrieked, shrinking helplessly from the decayed femur dangled inches from her face. Her brother’s laughter rang like a kettle, hissing and muddling her wails. He swung it past her chin, soil untangling in clumps that fell to Maisie’s chest. Her screams bubbled into sobs, the dirt crumbling more with each taunting shake, sprinkled from the tangle of roots. In the dim light of the barn, it looked like spiderwebs, thin and sticky with pests.
By Mina Wiebe10 months ago in Horror
Fallen
Kyra gripped the balcony’s edge, rust poking into her palms like mirror shards, metallic and cold. The air was heavier than usual; thick with smoke from distant explosions, the pops and sizzles a sound she’d long learned to ignore. Her lashes collected sweat with the snowflake-like soot drifting casually from the sky.
By Mina Wiebe11 months ago in Fiction
- Third Place in Sweet Nostalgia Challenge
Cottagecore: Reviving that Sweet 70s NostalgiaThird Place in Sweet Nostalgia Challenge
Dressing for Happiness If the pandemic has taught me anything about fashion, it’s that we’re constantly chasing that sweet nostalgia of old trends. This past year, I’ve definitely noticed a whirlwind of fads reammerge into mainstream fashion, ranging from rad 70s tie dye, to adorable 90s butterfly hair-clips. And while the revival of past trends is by no means new, I feel like our current craving for nostalgia has been amplified in our desire to reminisce about simpler, pre-pandemic times. People are at home, they're bored and stressed, and they're experimenting with fashion as a way to embrace nostalgia and have some good, simple fun.
By Mina Wiebeabout a year ago in Styled