Sarah Walther
Stories (6/0)
If Walls Could Talk, I Wouldn't.
If walls could talk, I bet they wouldn’t. At least, I wouldn’t. We are given words, memories, secrets, by the people that live within us, and it is our duty to keep them, as much as it is to stay standing. We are guardians, a layer from the outside world. Within us, deepest fears and greatest dreams are recognized. And all along we stand, still and silent and watching.
By Sarah Waltherabout a year ago in Fiction
Behind the Last Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room, the only window in the entire facility. She had asked him about it once, and his only response had been ‘motivation’. The window was expensive, and dangerous, but served a purpose and had been allowed to stay after the rebuilding. A look into a gloomy, barren world.
By Sarah Waltherabout a year ago in Fiction
A Final Meeting in the Churchyard
The coolness of night chilled the early morning fog as it drifted along the worn headstones, an air of gloom lifting sluggishly with the sun. The autumn air was crisp, and it tousled the trees that grew in the churchyard. Nicholus drew in a breath as he carefully removed his saber from its sheath. He had cornered her, far from home and after so many years of running, and the thought of the final battle that lay ahead somewhat overwhelmed him. His hand clenched the saber's hilt. Too many soldiers, men and boys alike, had fallen to her power. It was time to end it.
By Sarah Walther2 years ago in Fiction
What Evil my Child has Wrought
Chief of police, Ronald Missions, stepped from the passenger seat of the sleek, black cop car, hand reflexively resting on the butt of his department-issued pistol. He surveyed the scene for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths. He was a bit more out of shape than he’d like to admit.
By Sarah Walther2 years ago in Fiction
The sentience that kills
The windows shook soundly. Dr. Hardy looked up from his tablet, eyes squinted, to the large wall-front window of his office. There had been no reports of inclement weather for the day. Only small puffs of harmless clouds crossed the bright blue sky. He stood up and, crossing the small office in three long strides, stuck his head out into the hallway. A young red headed intern was stooped, picking up scattered papers and files.
By Sarah Walther2 years ago in Fiction