Silvie Ward
Bio
Born in Europe, lived all over the US, I enjoy painting, writing, and obstacle course races!
Stories (2/0)
The Little Black Book
Paul was in a bad mood. It wasn’t just the cold windy rain of early February, the worst time of year as everyone deceased he ever knew died in February. It was everything. His life, or lack thereof, his long standing self-loathing, which also made it difficult to like any other human being, and his utter failure at achieving what he thought he should have by now at the ripe old age of 45. Sure he had a family, house, and job, but his family thought he was no fun, his house was falling apart, and his job was decent but like most other jobs in the world, meaningless and populated by self-serving sycophants. All of this made the biting wind and freezing rain that much more irksome as he tried to stumble his way to his car after a long night at the office and brief workout at the gym. He rounded the corner to the parking lot when he heard a strange noise near the dark trees. He was going to ignore it but curiosity won him over. The wind died down and now the rain was ice. The sound of ice hitting everything was the first pleasant feeling he had all night. Then he saw IT. Or rather, HER.
By Silvie Ward3 years ago in Motivation
Milford
Where else can you walk out to a little island in the ocean when it's low tide? Where houses look like ice cream cone palettes of pretty colors? Where surprising wildlife like foxes, turkeys, and even bears visit? Milford, CT where I grew up, an idyllic coastal town with warm summers and cold winters. I remember running 6 miles in 19 degrees, skipping over snow on the sandy beach, eyes watering in the wind, breathing in my youth, exhaling my worries. Milford feels safe, life will be ok here. There is comfort in little things like the small ice cream shop by the marina, looking for seashells on the rocky shore during low tide, watching the ocean waves rise up to the steps of the road during high tide. Here is where I could go to carnivals and ride all the fun local rides (except ones that made you vomit), eat terrible carnival food, and walk around feeling satisfied and hopeful. Here is where the annual Oyster festival brings crowds of thousands downtown with live music and good food, the best pizza, and local artists selling goods. Local landmarks like a giant willow tree leaning over the river by a dam. The old movie theater with a balcony, adorned with soft velvet curtained interiors, made you feel fancy and vintage. But they tore that down to make a parking lot, and you lost a little bit of your youth. The local library where kids liked to hang out and some of my grandpa's paintings would hang at times. The parades I marched in as part of my high school's color guard, with my uncle as St. Patrick, the streets lined with merry buzzed townsfolk. The beach was always my favorite of course, the smell of the salt water, the beauty of each sunset, the sounds of gentle waves because we rarely had any due to Long Island blocking the big ones. The one time I kayaked out in the ocean with my sister, becoming sea sick on the way back in as the waves carried us. The time I arrived to my middle school dance on a boat to the Milford Yacht Club, thinking that was the height of sophistication and coolness. I had my first job here, learned how to drive, and navigated the ups and downs of adolescence and early adulthood, thinking it was lame because “nothing happens here.” But now I crave to return.
By Silvie Ward3 years ago in Wander