Selina Dudley
Bio
A writer based out of Maryland. Music is my first form of creative expression however I'm venturing into other forms of storytelling! I hope you enjoy my material :)
Stories (13/0)
Two Mosquitos Talking
"Hey Jordy, how's it going? Have a good run today?" "You know honestly Greg, I just can't ever seem to get it right. I go out, ready for whatever, just ready to get to business. I mean this morning Linda even made my favorite breakfast for Christ's sake-"
By Selina Dudley3 months ago in Fiction
His Little Lady
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Traces of plum and raisin, periwinkle, and grape all wove together a similar mysticism to the Aurora borealis. The constellations paneled earth's dreamscape like a baby swaddled in a blanket, and in awe of the sky’s beauty, eternity yielded to anything folded behind its corners. Wonder hung in the atmosphere just enough to keep the street lights on and accompany the silence of the night. For some, this love dance of the cosmos nurtured them to sleep, while for others, their secrets, tempted by the moon's curiosity, climbed out of their graves looking for trouble. For those who’ve needed it, the night's lore would awaken in them a catharsis of things not yet talked about, those things that demand one's attention but lose their remembrance in the frivolities of the day. Seated at a vanity the sun is gracious enough to reflect beauty to the eyes but the moon and her drawers, containers of uninvited white lies and horror stories, chastise the security of it all. It was under the myriad colors of nightfall, in the realm of dreams and disillusionment that the prodding of truth began to unfold.
By Selina Dudley3 months ago in Psyche
Stanley
There's a tree in my family's backyard behind our fence. It has been there ever since I was a little girl. During my youth, the tree would watch my brother and me as we rolled down its lush hill, clinging to each other like two little slugs. Covered in the grass and up to our ears in itchiness, we felt like Kings. The tree stood by happily.
By Selina Dudley4 months ago in Poets
