Racheal LaPrade
Bio
If you enjoy stories that invite you into the inner workings of a stranger's mind then give mine a read. Be kind and gentle while I hone my craft and slip in and out of multiple genre's as I find the one that molds best to me.
Stories (8/0)
Pig Cabin
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window, signaling someone’s arrival. Edwina arrived early that morning and it was her first time back to her family’s cabin in many years. Edwina needed a break from the electric life that she had created for herself in the city, and she longed for a feeling that she had left at the cabin many years before. Edwina was a mesmerizing woman in her appearance and in her eclectic personality. Her long polished black hair like a leather trench coat, hugged her body and her cerulean eyes suited her olive-toned skin. She moved like a jaguar and was always the topic of discussion yet remained a mystery to all.
By Racheal LaPrade8 months ago in Fiction
Bed and Break-FEAST
Dmitry was looking for an adventure, searching for a sort of relief from his humdrum life. “Work. Work. Work. Life is meaningless without your hard work.” His father, Isaac, would say to him with an exhausted tone and tired red eyes. Those words were meaningless to Dmitry, considering he watched his father work himself into cardiac arrest causing him to collapse into his own grave.
By Racheal LaPrade8 months ago in Fiction
Seedlings
It hit her as fast as he hit the ground. Sabrina watched the love of her life, Clarence, die in front of her. The couple was, begrudgingly, taking their Sunday evening walk and feeling particularly lazy, however, they believed they owed it to their health to take a stroll. The sky was painted with a beautiful golden yellow and various pinks with a light breeze that whispered melodies around them, possessing Sabrina with a sense of presence and appreciation for the walk. She admired how Clarences’ typically dark brown hair glowed a red hue under the sun’s rays and his eyes shined an amber red to match. She loved the way his hair curled around his ears and the way his long dark eyelashes softly fluttered with each blink. She was mesmerized by him. He was everything to her, to a fault that she wouldn’t realize until he was gone. Normally, they would walk a couple of blocks up and around the cemetery, but they didn’t make it that far before she noticed his breaths shorten with each exhale. A strange ache in her gut swelled when she felt his sweaty grip on her hand loosen. The seconds danced by ever so slowly as she turned her head to figure him out, but he was already on the ground. Sabrina stared down at him in pure shock, stalled, while time caught back up to her. His eyes clenched in pain and his hands clawed on his shirt. Time rang a bell and she finally snapped back to the present and fell to her hands and knees beside him and immediately pulled out her phone to call for help. The paramedics came as fast as they could, but no amount of time could have saved him. The doctor said it was due to an untreated heart condition. He was only 29 years old. The irony of it was that Sabrina spent years trying to get him to go see a doctor for a checkup to make sure everything was in order, but he didn’t believe it was necessary. He thought it was a waste of time and money, even though one of the perks of his job was some of the best health insurance that the state had to offer.
By Racheal LaPrade9 months ago in Fiction
The Family
The picture quality on my outdated TV statics as the angry housewives of my favorite program argue about who did or didn’t do what. My living room is smothered in darkness. The only light in the room is from my TV’s screen. It’s Saturday night, which means the invisible cables from my body have thoroughly latched on to the couch, rendering me from movement. My finger, seemingly, electronically attached to my phone, scrolls through my Instagram while the commercials play out. The people I follow begin to flood my feed with pictures of their weekends so far. Brunches at fancy restaurants, clubbing with their girlfriends and taking scenic hikes though the mountains. Not me. I clock out at 6:30 P.M every Friday night, I grab takeout and I come home to sit on my couch until Sunday night, of course, apart from my obligations; cleaning, paying bills, buying the necessities, doing laundry. I’ve never understood how some people can go out and do fun things with their lives. I’ve never found the time. I work, come home, sleep and I'll do it all over again until I’m 62, then I can retire and do whatever I want. Until then, I’m a slave to my couch and these stupid reality TV programs.
By Racheal LaPrade10 months ago in Fiction
The Death Chair
The Blackleach family is predominantly women, which is probably why everyone in town thought they were witches. Though, I suppose any highly intuitive, educated women who follow old family traditions would be accused of the same thing. It’s said that the men in the family all die young and that the women steal the men’s youth, but the truth is simply that they have terrible luck with the men they partner with. The men often end up leaving the women to raise their children alone or more unfortunately they end up having to flee from their abusive husbands. How ever the case may be, they are never truly alone, as the women have the support of their small, tight-knit family.
By Racheal LaPrade10 months ago in Fiction
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