Victoria Bezzeg
Bio
Hello everyone! I'm Victoria, a literature and film lover and traveler of the seven seas. Have a read around and I hope you enjoy! Cheers!
Stories (7/0)
Frozen Reflections
In the desolate expanse of Lapland's snowy fields, horror writer Saga Knight awoke to an eerie reality. The chill clawed through her bones as she rose from the frozen ground, finding herself amidst a landscape she'd once merely conjured on the page.
By Victoria Bezzeg3 months ago in Fiction
The Old Man from Over the Sea
Valeria shuddered under the coarse linen blanket, clutching it up to her chin with tight white knuckled fists as lightening glistened bright in the dark night sky and thunder drummed through the earth. The wind restlessly moaned, throwing rain across the flimsy window shutters sounding like fingertips peppering melodies of anxious clatter over the wood—ready to break in at any time. Normally Valeria could handle the storms, she’d grown up on the seafront, fished with her father and bathed in the ocean which ran blue through her blood. But when the tides and sky shook and rocked with the fierce iron grasp of God’s fury, it terrified her down to the marrow in her bones.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Fiction
The Things That I Could Not Say
Chaos and destruction, I can hear and feel it burning all around me. There's a ringing in my ears and an ache in my head that feels like the pounding of bells against a war drum. But there's also a smell in the air, a smell of ash and fire and bone that lingers like the perfume of an omen.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Fiction
The Signal
Far in the Killarney countryside, tucked away from the town, Paddy O'Sullivan sat hunched in his dainty, barren kitchen. His hands were glued to the tiny wooden table, his mind deep in concentration, tentatively listening in to the ramblings of his 'friends' from county Cork, Limerick and Clare on the transistor radio, which sat fuming at the table's edge.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Fiction
Don’t Pass Me Bye
The snow gently cascaded from the foggy night sky, blanketing the countrysides of England as Cillian Shaw jerked restlessly back and fourth on the crammed train with his fellow countrymen. On the outside he was trying to look clam, he was happy to be coming home. More honestly though to be on the ground; not a target in sky, where more bullets soared through the horizon than birds. But inside, his mind was a battlefield.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Fiction
- Top Story - December 2021
How I Stopped Having Food Guilt and Anxiety at Christmas Top Story - December 2021
Gingerbread people and sugar cookies, heaps and piles of boxed chocolate at work, grandma's Christmas pudding and don't forget about that yule log after that huge fest you're about to indulge in... okay you get it.
By Victoria Bezzeg2 years ago in Psyche
