With a BA in English and MSc in Creative Writing, writing is my life. I have edited and beta read as a freelancer for a few years with some published stories and poems of my own. You can learn more about me at thewritersscrapbin.com.
Writing and Seasonal Affective Disorder
It's that time of year again. Winter will be coming soon, and that means singing, gifts, and decorations as various holidays are celebrated. It also means, for multiple locations, that it's getting colder, rainier, perhaps even snowy. The days are growing shorter. And many people are suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD.
The Life of a Seal
A little one used to visit me when I was a pup. A male, I believe. Gangly appendages and pale skin with only a patch of black fur on his head—and his eyes, his beautiful dark eyes. I could have stared into them all day. When I put my flipper against the invisible wall, he would do the same. After the first few visits, he would be the one to put his misshapen flipper up first, and I would press mine against his. The big one with him always laughed at this. I could never hear her below the water, but I recognized the motions from my trips to the surface to breathe and eat and enjoy the sun. I bet she had a beautiful laugh.
Do Not Open
November 8, 2022, 7:11 a.m. Looking after the dogs while Mom and Dad are away. Admittedly, I’m already pretty paranoid. A package arrived via drone a few minutes ago—isn’t it too early for a delivery? I don’t remember ordering anything, anyway. Did Mom? She never mentioned any packages. I’ll have to ask. Better bring it in before the rain soaks it or someone tries to steal it. That drone must’ve drawn a lot of attention. I didn’t even know drones delivered up here.
The ground once trembled beneath his feet. Now, his bones were as likely to shake as the land. The flesh that remained barely clung to his torso, and slivers of that swung back and forth as he traversed the Forest of Flames, some leaving a minute trail in his wake as he followed the Angel Beacon. He knew not why an Angel Beacon would be shining in the heart of the Lower Pantheon’s territory, let alone why it glowed red, signaling only gargoyles and dragons like Xerxes. He only knew that the closer he got, the more clearly he could hear a high-pitched cry. Surely, that cry could not belong to the source of the beacon, and yet—
A Cold Winter's Night
For the past few years, I’ve had a toy fox terrier named Bubba. Bubba—like his predecessor, Bud—is my baby in almost every sense of the term. I have had him since he was about four weeks old (although we were told that he was closer to eight), and from the moment I first saw him on Petfinder, I was in love. Of course, with him being a little bigger than my hand when we first got him, Bubba had some health scares in the beginning. He bruised so badly when he got fixed that Haven Humane kept him overnight for observation. I cancelled my plans to go to an early movie release when we discovered that he had kennel cough. That’s also how he started sleeping in my bed with me; I was so scared, with him being so small and sick, that he would be too cold sleeping in his kennel alone and brought him into my room to keep a better eye on him. Let’s just say that was the last time he willingly slept in his own bed.
Adventure Planet, Chapter Two
Follow this link to read the first chapter of Adventure Planet, "Hallucinations". My brother and sister-in-law relieve me of my babysitting duties for the final day, but not without docking my pay for those last hours. Fine. Fair enough. I’d consider it fairer if they had shown any concern for my well-being, but it seems that more money means less concern for others. Or maybe my migraine/mental breakdown combo just pales in comparison to their own stress relief. Either way, I’m back in the room in time for them to have to take the kids to lunch.