Mycheille Norvell
Bio
Mycheille has a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing for Entertainment, as well as a Master of Science degree in Instructional Design & Technology, from Full Sail University. She has been writing since she was a child.
Stories (42/0)
Round
Don’t forget the red door, Hannah! Don’t forget the red door…! Don’t forget… red… don’t… the door… forget…. A shiver rakes through my body, making me quake and feel instantly ill. I don’t feel right… almost like when you’re in a moving car and you’re waking up after falling asleep. Everything feels wrong, even the heaviness of my eyelids as I try to open them. There’s an odd metallic taste in my mouth, and my body feels achy and sore as if I’d run a few miles before laying down suddenly. I let out a tired moan of pain, and the sound surprised me as it echoed.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Fiction
Killing Me Softly with an Elephant Ear
The heat was blinding, and somehow it amplified the sounds of the rides that were slicing through the air, as well as the screaming voices of carnival-goers that chose rides that terrified and excited them. My brother and sister were already pointing to the attractions that they wanted to go to first once we received our ride bracelets, but for me, I was following my nose instead.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Feast
Pride, Prejudice & the Frat House: Part 1
I’m not that girl. I’m not the one who parties until 3 am at some Fraternity I would not be caught dead in on any given day. I’m not the girl who dances with random guys and then tears off her dress in the middle of a living room.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Fiction
Prophecy Stone
The night is cold… too cold for the thin clothing I decided to wear. I came here to be alone… to be truly alone for the last time, but the chill in the air almost feels like a person. I close my eyes tightly as I sit in the spot they told me about… just give the Prophecy Stone one hour, and you will be free from fear.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Fiction
Their Master
We can’t be the Last I held my breath as I peeked out the window as carefully as I could, knowing that if I accidentally made the drapes move, they would be on us like moths to a flame. I couldn’t let that happen… too much was at stake—too many lives were at stake.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Horror
A Night with Dracula
It’s darker than I expected… gloomier. I’ve read all the stories, both true and then the legends, but I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming, almost seductive evil surrounding me. When I was chosen for the trip to Count Dracula’s Castle for a one night challenge, I thought it would be an adventure… but now I an regretting my decision to even enter.
By Mycheille Norvell2 years ago in Horror
Icy Premonitions
It always started the same way… first I would hear the crack! And then I’d feel the ice shift beneath my feet, and then it was as if I was sucked into the emptiness of the frozen water beneath. I can still feel daggers stabbing into my skin… but the worst part is the choking. When the breath is stolen from my lungs, replaced by brutal cold, freezing me from the inside out. Sometimes I swear I can even feel the moment my heart beats for the last time…
By Mycheille Norvell3 years ago in Fiction
How Freewriting Can Help You Be A Stronger Writer
I still remember my 10th grade English teacher. He stood in front of the class with his button-up, green-grey checkered shirt, with the bow tie perfectly tied at his neck. He spoke very properly to the point that you’d swear he was British, except without the accent. On the first day of his class, he instructed us all to bring out a notebook, and I instantly became excited.
By Mycheille Norvell3 years ago in Journal
The Snow’s Gift
So I'm in a new place, almost a new world it seems. I'm in the land of deers in the middle of town, and snow that's so common, that the locals groan loudly as the flakes begin to flurry happily outside the windows. They look at me strangely as I stare out the window like a child, excitedly seeing snow for the first time. My inner child leaps for joy as she considers sledding down the old hills I used to travel down so often when I was little.
By Mycheille Norvell3 years ago in Fiction
