Stefanie Sullivan
Bio
I'm new to writing but have always wanted to tell my life story eventually so I can help other women who have maybe had the same experiences or trauma. I'll write fantasy when I need breaks. Hopefully you all like some!
Stories (6/0)
The First Visit
Thanksgiving was fast approaching. I was nervous. I'd never hosted before and my Mom and niece were coming to visit. My husband at the time, now ex-husband, didn't seem even slightly excited to see them. We also had a roommate at the time, but he was very "go with the flow" so he told me he'd help wherever needed. Great guy.
By Stefanie Sullivanabout a year ago in Families
Shades of Orange
Mountain peaks tipped in white, valleys and rivers snaking in between, orange and pink glows accenting the clouds, crisp fall air smelling of snow with a hint of pine, these were my favorite mornings to fly. Lazily stretching my wings to their full potential, I continued to glide carelessly. I gazed ahead at the mountains covered in an array of colorful trees and breathed deeply, not a care in the world. The sun was quickly turning the pale hues of pink and orange in to a more vibrant orange and yellow. Sighing, I angled my body toward the small lake glittering below tucked in the middle of the mountains completely secluded. Home. Mom would want me there to make breakfast for my six younger siblings, seventh on the way. She was due any day now, with her large swelled belly it was hard for her to move, let alone make breakfast. With my father away on business it fell on my shoulders to teach my siblings to hunt. My eldest sister Mia and I were able to find two large bull moose the day before. Along with my younger brother, Tyr, we three were the only able to conjure fire within us, the rest still too young, so we took the responsibility of meal time.
By Stefanie Sullivanabout a year ago in Fiction
Monsters Are Real
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. There were a group of friends camping in the area. One girl was near the cabin gathering sticks and branches to start a fire. Startled by the lit candle, she tripped and fell hard on her hands and knees. When she stood and brushed her dirty hands off she cautiously turned to see what she had fallen over. Dead, lifeless eyes of a boy around her age with his mouth gaping open stared back at her. She screamed and took off running back to her camp. Not knowing how far she'd wandered, she ran and ran. Hollering her friends names, she strained her ears to hear for them talking. The only sound that reached back to her was a shrill wind. Panicking, she ran faster. Sweat started trickling down her back and her breathing was becoming ragged. She slowed to try and catch some air when it suddenly started pouring rain on her.
By Stefanie Sullivan2 years ago in Horror
The Worst Is Over
Let's start this off with the worst part and end with the good. My mom and dad divorced when I was very young, maybe 3 years old. I don't have many good memories of him from when he and my mom were still together. He would scold me when I would try to play with my sister and her toys, get too close to the fireplace, things like that. I guess he and my mom fought a lot but I don't remember that either. He did take care of me one night when I got really sick. When he left, my sisters and I would go see him some weekends and he would let me pick raspberries and eat them with milk and sugar for breakfast. That was the best. Our visits with him always seemed to get shorter and shorter. When I was 9 years old my mom had gotten remarried and we moved eight hours away. We still went back to visit because my grandma lived there still and we would see dad sometimes on holidays. He never called on my birthday or any holiday unless we were there visiting him we wouldn't hear anything from him. My oldest sister still lived in our home town because she was in college when we moved. My middle sister started college and my dad would go visit her sometimes for her sorority dad balls and things like that. I wasn't far but he wouldn't make the trip to see me. As the years went on, I saw him less and less but he always made time to see my sisters. Looking back now that I'm older, I didn't really make an effort to see him either. Around the time I turned 30 I made sure to call him randomly and tell him when I would be in the area so we could meet up, which sometimes happened and sometimes didn't. I don't remember exactly when, but I think it was around the time I found out my uncle was struggling with bladder cancer and it made me realize life is too short to not be with your loved ones. But that also opened up a can of worms in my heart. So I asked him the 'hard' questions. Why didn't you ever call me? Why did you visit my sister and not me? Why didn't you come to visit me when we moved away? He got really upset and told me stories about my mom that I knew were lies, such as, he tried to come see me but my mom wouldn't let him, or that his truck broke down when he planned to see me. All a bunch of crap. I told him to stay out of my life and we haven't talked since then. It's been a little over a year now and he didn't call over the holidays or my birthday which I expected. Needless to say, as a mom myself and watching my sisters become parents and finding a wonderful husband who is the best dad, I didn't always make good choices in men growing up. But I also don't completely blame my dad for that. My stepdad was also a terrible man, so I had a lot to work through to get to where I am today. More on that another time.
By Stefanie Sullivan2 years ago in Families
My Dragon
There weren't always dragons in the valley. I remember a time when they were myths and stories I was told as a young girl. About the ruthlessness of the beasts, never get close enough to look one in the eye they said. Of course those were just stories, right? Wrong. I remember the day I first saw one as clear as if it was happening to me now. Running through a field of purple and orange lilacs, my long brown braid blowing in the wind behind me. I was only fifteen years old, not yet working in our small town. Smiling as the sun warmed my face. Until a shadow blocked the sun.
By Stefanie Sullivan2 years ago in Fiction
