S. M. Risdon
Bio
A mom with a love for writing. I hope to be able to have my books published and see them in bookstores around the world!
Stories (13/0)
The Misfit Crew
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I suppose that’s true, to an extent. Those left on Earth can’t hear what happens to those floating around in space. So, if, for example, one ship decides to attack another unsuspecting ship, no one would hear the screams besides the ones involved.
By S. M. Risdon2 years ago in Fiction
Tadres Prologue
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Midsong Valley, I mean. That is where I live, along with about 2200 other people in the town of Haedleigh. The Valley resides high in the Tauntrie Mountains, the only mountain range in the country of Aleusen. The dragons love it here for the location—high altitudes so it stays cold year round. Since their bodies run hot with the fire in their blood, the brisk air keeps them cool.
By S. M. Risdon2 years ago in Fiction
Tadres
Chapter 1 There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. It’s only been the last twenty years or so that they’ve inhabited it again. The dragons came from far in the North where the cold keeps all other living beings at bay. They hid away from humans for thousands of years, not wanting to watch the world of man kill each other off.
By S. M. Risdon2 years ago in Fiction
The Chosen Six
Chapter 1 – The Last Memory I just wanted to make a couple of extra bucks by helping out a friend. I can’t even remember his name now. They drugged and tortured me until I couldn’t remember what my life was like before they kidnapped me. They: The Chosen Six.
By S. M. Risdon2 years ago in Fiction
A Solar Oydessy
It’s been a long time since I’ve been really afraid of dying. In my, almost five billion years alive, death is still a certainty. Just not by old age anymore. Science once improved so much that medicine allowed the body to decay slower, and last as long as the heart is still beating.
By S. M. Risdon3 years ago in Fiction
Death Week
Wind blows my hair back and away from my face. My gaze darts from one end of the street to the other as I hide in between two shops. The air is cold but sweat still rolls down my forehead anticipating a group of Reapers to show up any moment. Assholes who simply take joy in killing.
By S. M. Risdon3 years ago in Fiction
Mountain Pass Pines Asylum
When I come to, all I can feel is pain radiating from the base of my skull. I reach my hand back and inspect it. Touching a knot of hair and dried blood, my eyes flutter as a new wave of anguish spreads through my head and down my spine.
By S. M. Risdon3 years ago in Fiction
