Sarah Paris
Bio
Storytelling. Fiction is my heartbeat, but I write in multiple genres.
Stories (18/0)
The Coin (Three Wishes)
I want to scream. I want to shatter all of the glassware, jump over the marble bar top, and scream out my frustrations. But I volunteered to work tonight. And, I need the money. Besides, what’s the alternative? Hanging with acquaintances and ingesting copious amounts of liquor? Tempting, but depressing.
By Sarah Parisabout a year ago in Fiction
The Cast Shadows of Fear
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. He gestured for her to the space beside him and, as she did every week, she raised her hands up to the glass and pressed her face to the window pane. Her breath formed milky white clouds on the glass and she used her index finger to engrave a peace sign – a relic from Before – on the window.
By Sarah Parisabout a year ago in Fiction
Love Under the Glow of Vegas Lights
Juno first met Ted on Halloween under the smoky Moonlight illuminating the parking lot of the Holiday Inn in Sin City. Juno hailed from the Garden State and held her weariness of romance like a Badge of Honor. Ted looked like an E.T. cloaked in his Full Metal Jacket, but his Smile melted Juno's defensive walls.
By Sarah Paris2 years ago in Fiction
Jude Breaks Free
If you scream and throw a bowl of pasta against the wall, but no one sees or hears you, does your outburst even count? I'm standing, looking at gross noodles and clumpy tomato sauce oozing down the wall. My chest rumbles and threatens to explode. The wall looks like a serial killer made his mark on my family. I think about the faux massacre and the future true crime specials focused on my “smile that could light up a room.” I’m shocked when tears stream for my fantasy death.
By Sarah Paris2 years ago in Fiction
How a Journey Through a Frozen Wasteland Revealed My True Self
I stumbled out of the twelve-passenger van and fell hard. I landed, spread eagle on a pile of slush. I wanted to ugly cry, but a weird, boisterous laugh came out of me. The icy gas station parking lot made it impossible to stand on my own, and I kept slipping. My first vulnerable humiliation of the trip—but nowhere near my last—stemmed from the fall. I skinned my knee and bruised my butt. The others laughed, and Timmy stepped forward to help me up.
By Sarah Paris2 years ago in Motivation
Rescue From the Fire
When I was eight years old, I rescued my baby sister from a burning house. The house belonged to my Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Rob. Neither of them made it. After, we discovered Uncle Rob had spilled his cheap whiskey all over the bed and passed out with a lit cigarette.
By Sarah Paris2 years ago in Fiction
Down by the Water's Edge
I peel off my sweaty layers and crawl into the bubbling river. The water cuts through my skin, but I know I need fresh water on my ankle’s gaping wound. The silt left in the gash is seared by a small rapid water flow, and I yelp. I scramble to the bank and crawl over the rocks to the smoldering embers of my campfire.
By Sarah Paris3 years ago in Fiction
He Will Eat Your Darkness
The summer felt sour from the beginning. Rancid, thick, depressive air hung over me. Chase broke up with me in May—and started dating my ex-best friend, Molly, the next day. I bombed my SATs. And beach plans with my friends came to a screeching halt with Mom’s declaration.
By Sarah Paris3 years ago in Fiction
I Fear I Am the Butt of All Jokes
I was atop Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, AZ when my butt made its bare appearance. The merciless desert sun blazed down on me, and I couldn’t move anymore. When I reached Camelback’s peak, my body melted. I collapsed into a nook in an enormous red-clay boulder.
By Sarah Paris3 years ago in Confessions
Choking on the Undertow
The gentle crash of waves hit the ship, and Cecily Stoles stirs to semi-consciousness. The night wind, cool against her skin, washes her in an unexpected calm. Cecily stretches her arms and feels the warmth of Shane’s strong body against her own. She smiles but refuses to unglue her eyes. She wants to freeze this moment—her first waking moment as Mrs. Shane Stoles.
By Sarah Paris3 years ago in Fiction