Selika Richardson
Stories (3/0)
Birds of a Feather
Six months of living here and I’m stil not use to waking up to the sounds of all the birds and critters that live right outside my balcony patio. I think as I sip my coffee, while staring at two parakeets fly overheard and a ground squirrel search for its food on the forest floor. Six months ago I was an exotics doctor working for a non-profit organization back in the states, but after they found the company was money laundering it was dispearsed and left me and many others out of a job and under scrutiny of the public. I put up with it for all of three months, before I got sick of the accusations and the not so subtle reasons for why other organizations didn’t want me working for them. I had nothing to do with their money scheme, in fact I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late, so after losing everything and living with my best friend rent free for three months, I decided to take action. I happened upon a job Ad for an exotics doctor specialist in Columbia, South America. The job mentioned they would pay for my flight if I got hired and the pay was double what I was making there in the states, so after talking with my friend about it I applied and got hired three days after my zoom interview, and so here we are now.
By Selika Richardson2 years ago in Fiction
A work of Art
Define the word struggle? No really, define it for me, because everyday I live in it, hoping and praying that I will wake up and it will all just be a dream. The sound of my alarm clock going off wakes me from my internal thoughts, since I don’t sleep anymore. I get out of bed feeling groggy from a sleep that never came and the start of one of those darling headaches that just loves to grace me with its presence ever morning. Three jobs in yet I’m stilling struggling someone tell me how that’s fair, I think to myself as I throw my worn down sheets off my body, and immediately trip over my dog in the dark when I go to take a step. I lay there wondering if I should just stay here on my dirty carpet for the rest of the day, but decide against it when it means I’ll l be missing out on money, and that would lead to my butt getting evicted real quick from this disgusting roach infested apartment I call home.
By Selika Richardson2 years ago in Fiction
Familiar Bonds
When I woke up at three in the morning the moon was still glowing through the curtains of my window casting eerie shadows against my walls, if wasn’t for my heightened vision I would have thought they were monsters coming to get me. To stop me from what I’m about to do, which is run away. I get up quietly from my bed and grab my already packed sack, then the $80,000 that was an unexpected gift left to me from my mother a few weeks after her murder. I also grab my bank card with what I managed to save over the years, then I tiptoe to my window tuning my ears to make sure no one else is around. Opening my window and steping my legs out I allow myself to hang there for a second thinking, whether or not I should do this and, if I can deal with the consequence it will cause from me leaving.
By Selika Richardson2 years ago in Fiction