Sukie Harper
Bio
I like to put pieces of myself into my writing. Sometimes it's a finger, sometimes a toe, but it's always something that gets stuck to the roof of your mouth and leaves a lingering feel in your gut.
Stories (20/0)
Gone
At the corner of the highway intersection, very out of place, there used to be an old, dilapidated house that stood lost just at the edge of a small forest. The house had been there before the roads, before the scent of asphalt had even graced the air, before the first blades had touched the trees. I'm sure it was once a strong house, constructed of the very trees that surrounded; beautifully painted, with new nails and screws. At one point in time, it had to have been the newest house ever built.
By Sukie Harper12 months ago in Humans
The Boy who couldn't Speak
There once was a boy whose parents found themselves in quite a predicament. You see, when the boy was born, he was born healthy. He had all ten fingers, and all ten toes. His heart beat the way it should, in fact all of his organs did their respective jobs quite well (though, he would grow to have bad knees). However, despite the appearance that this was a rather normal, fully functioning young lad, there was something his parents would find quite peculiar about their baby boy.
By Sukie Harperabout a year ago in Fiction
Maisy down the Street
It wasn’t a dark and stormy night when it happened. I think that’s what made it worse for her, that it was a bright day full of sunshine. That instead of cold and overcast, the leaves were green, and turned out from their branches toward the sky. Windchimes hung over porches and sang in the breeze, marking that it was the first true day of Spring. It was her favorite season.
By Sukie Harperabout a year ago in Fiction
Too High
“Molly! You’re going too high!” Sam whined as she struggled to climb up after her sister, “I can’t even see you anymore!” Molly rolled her eyes and scoffed. She knew Sam could see her, she could feel her stubby little fingers on the back of her heel every other branch.
By Sukie Harperabout a year ago in Fiction
The Scent of You
I can still smell you in my car. That crisp clean scent. It reminds me of the way it used to be so strong in my own skin. Do you think that I imagine it? That I cling to it as a way to keep you with me? I can’t believe that I do. I know it’s been so long, it’s surely faded out of the seats but…
By Sukie Harper2 years ago in Poets
The Night Train to Boise
“I wonder if it’s snowing in Boise,” Jenny murmured quietly to herself as the train passed by a line of snow topped trees. She shifted the bag in her lap. Partly because her leg was asleep, and partly to check and make sure it was still there.
By Sukie Harper2 years ago in Fiction
I Hate Hiking
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone in the woods. I know how afraid you are of the dark unknown, of the close knit trees, and the sounds of wild animals- but I thought if you were with me it wouldn’t matter. I thought you knew I would keep you safe. I shouldn’t have expected you to know that when you didn’t even know me.
By Sukie Harper2 years ago in Poets
