Nyssa Lyon
Bio
I grew up as a half breed between the North and South. After about 14 years of travels, I settled down in New Orleans for a while. My child and I moved to the mountains, and now I'm trying to capture these strange birds of my life in print.
Stories (6/0)
Lavinia's Jar
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a light glowed in the window. Now, the first thing you need to know is, this wasn't just any old cabin. This was great uncle Jonjon's cabin, and if you've heard anything about him, you would know this was one cabin anyone with any sense in their head would keep away from like liquor on Sabbath day. No? You haven't? Well, let me keep talking, and I'll explain about him in due time.
By Nyssa Lyon2 years ago in Horror
Celestial Bodies
“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” He always began it the same way. We would get a delicious shiver down our backs, warm our palms up to the fire, and settle a little deeper into the hard ground. The work trips began in early spring, and lasted to late fall, frost limning the tents in the slanting light. Between was an endless high summer, full of heat and long, lazy days spent swatting mosquitoes and trudging up and down hills. My father’s job was identifying the tiny invasive insects that burrow deep beneath the tree’s flesh, withering them bit by bit, until what was once lush forest hung skeletal hands up to the sky. It was a bittersweet one, bitter in its mission and unfolding story, sweet in the long cool draughts of clearest air, the vistas of frothing green, the simplicity of days kept not by clocks, but by the basic celestial forces that have ruled us far longer than any watch hand. father’s job was identifying the tiny invasive insects that burrowed deep beneath the tree’s flesh, withering them bit by bit, until what was once lush forest hung skeletal hands up to the sky. It was a bittersweet one, bitter in its mission and unfolding story, sweet in the long cool draughts of clearest air, the vistas of frothing green, the simplicity of days kept not by clocks, but by the basic celestial forces that have ruled us far longer than any watch hand.
By Nyssa Lyon2 years ago in Horror
Sleeping Beauty
Jennette's father had always been crazy. For as long as she knew, he had been talking with what he called his "angels", three of them. They apparently came in Crayola beginner's set colors of blue, green, and red. Every night before falling asleep in his armchair, tv on but with the sound down to a low unintelligible mutter, he would drowse into unconsciousness in a convivial conversation with one or more of them, as if he were speaking to his wife in a 50's style bedroom, lights out, beds separated by a side table with frill like a doll's dress around it. Half sentences, words spoken with the knowledge that the listener could piece together his meanings as a string of nuances, without full form.
By Nyssa Lyon2 years ago in Fiction
Celestial Bodies
“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” Please do not read this version, I am working on getting it deleted, which is apparently a several step process. Go to the same title/ picture below in the stories listings.
By Nyssa Lyon2 years ago in Horror
Lavinia's Jar
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a light glowed in the window. Please do not read this version. I'm working on getting it deleted, but it is a several step process. Please go to the story with the same title and picture below this on my main page.
By Nyssa Lyon2 years ago in Horror
