Nancy Gwillym
Bio
I'm a soon-to-be retired paramedic in NYC. I'm also a crazy cat/bird/etc lady who writes stories. Thank you for reading!
Achievements (1)
Stories (34/0)
The Injured Sparrow
Whenever Bea would enter a conversation circle, the established members of said circle would appear, to an outside observer, to have suddenly contracted a painful abdominal malady. Their faces would contort into stalwart displays of suppressing a newly discovered sour taste or uncomfortable sensation in their stomach to the best of their abilities while trying not to call obvious attention to their communal distress. It was the epitome of polite society to do so. After all, Bea was family.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
Another Cold January Morning
It was another cold January morning when Joanna walked outside to the woodshed. Before grabbing an armful of firewood from the pile, Joanna scanned the trees that surrounded the large open yard. They looked so pretty at this early morning hour with the thin layer of flaky snow balancing on the tops of the branches. A trio of cardinals flew off upon being spotted by the bundled up human. Only the sound of their flapping wings, echoing into the denser tree area, disturbed the muffled silence the dusting of snow had provided.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
A Persistently Blinking Light
Stand back!” yelled the paramedic. He went through the motions of checking to make sure no one was touching Marlena before he hit the button. The defibrillator jolt caused her body to jump in a muted, but nonetheless slightly dramatic way. Marlena could see all this from a strange vantage point near the ceiling.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
A Somber Road Ahead
Marisa took the long way to her mother’s house. It was normally a two hour drive and Marisa had no qualms about making it a three hour drive. She had many issues and questions she didn’t want to think about at the moment. A beautiful respite through the countryside provided a calmness her conflicted mind needed for the coming weeks ahead.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
The Exter Street Marigolds
Prisoner H100853 told newcomers his seniority afforded him accommodations with a view. This statement was partially true, as the solitary cells for long term inmates were randomly assigned but most did have a small window. If he stood on his cot, he could peer out of the narrow slab of reinforced glass to see the fields outside where he, and the other participants in Project Green Thumb, grew vegetables in the warmer months.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
God is a Fish
I remember the day the last shark died. News agencies from all across the globe flocked to Mexico, where “Bessie” had washed ashore. Bessie had only been discovered a few months earlier, a decade after her species had been declared extinct. With great fanfare, she was tagged and tracked in the hope that she would lead us to find more of her kind. Sadly, however, the lonely shark migrated in circles close to shore, no doubt in search of the same thing.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
The Illegal Tenant
Frankie sniffed his way around his sparsely furnished one-bedroom, cursing his prostitute-lady-friend. Shauna had made him take a shower. Now, for some reason, Frankie was acutely aware of the way his apartment perpetually smelled. It was a foul mix of stale body odor, onions, and something else he couldn’t figure out. Who was she to be making demands when he was the one paying? He had even more things to do now as he searched for the offending smell.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
Predators and Prejudices
Emily had to admit, the view was spectacular. The pool area of her resort overlooked the beach across the street and she watched as the waves crashed at regular intervals. She sat there with her coffee, enjoying the solitude. The sun lit up the sky in citrus hues and, for now, it was just for her alone.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
The Doughboy
The pungent odor of urine found a way to breach the barrier of dried blood in Nathan’s nose. His head was throbbing and a man in the next cell over was ranting nonstop in Russian. The icepack he received for his swollen lip was lukewarm and he was trying to use it as a pillow, unsuccessfully. There was no way he was getting any rest in this dump. Where the hell was his mother?
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
They Don't Grow Old
In years past, a young Elsa would lament the loss of children’s games spent under the sprinklers at the municipal park. Elsa was sure her young cohorts would be having the time of their lives getting sundaes from roving ice cream trucks and attending dinosaur events at the children’s museum while she would be bored and alone visiting relatives abroad.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction
The Hole in the Sky
Lieutenant Colonel Marshal woke up to the sweet smell of hay. He was hesitant to open his eyes as the scent transported him back to the stable he’d worked at when he was 16. He loved horses and didn’t mind the messy labor involved in caring for them. Thinking about that time seemed to bring him a sense of happiness now but he hated that job and the rich assholes who took lessons there.
By Nancy Gwillym3 years ago in Fiction