Victoria Turnbull
Stories (14/0)
Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog
A glimpse into the surreal. Caspar David Friedrich’s Romantic painting, “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog”, explores the immensity of nature and our place within it. A lone man faces this power, letting it surround him. He experiences the surreal by standing in the middle of nature’s endless grasp.
By Victoria Turnbull8 months ago in Critique
And Then There Were None
Perfect for gloomy days, delve into a murder mystery of a grandiose nature in the Southwest of England. Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” is a classic “whodunnit” with twisted themes of inescapable justice and overwhelming hubris. When strangers are invited to a secluded island, who will remain?
By Victoria Turnbull8 months ago in Critique
The Girl in the Window
I saw the reflection of a girl in a rain-kissed window. The raindrops could have been her own tears, for her eyes were sullen and lost. She was a reflection of deeply hidden scars. Her soft cries were an echo, barely heard but closely felt. I stared at her, too afraid to turn around. Or so I thought at first. Maybe it was not fear, but captivation? I felt entranced by her sorrow. I even felt it pool within my heart and flow through my veins. Somehow, I knew that even if I could turn around, she would be gone. She was a ghost from a time long ago. She chose me in this moment that was frozen in time. I could no longer hear the ambience of traffic and chatter. I could no longer feel the chilling drops of the heavy rain. All I could do was stare into those haunted eyes.
By Victoria Turnbullabout a year ago in Psyche
Terra
Dirt beneath our nails, Victorious we all stand, Terra we defend.
By Victoria Turnbullabout a year ago in Poets
The War of Aeternum Nivis
Thundering roars and cries of bloodshed echoed against the snow-covered mountains of Aeternum Nivis. For years, the frost dragons of Nix Alis and the humans of Nix Venae feuded through snow and storm. The Nix Alis were returning from their latest retaliation to a Nix Venae raid of the Northern mountainside. Their azure scales with streams of silver sparkled brightly as they flew under the moon’s glow. Their massive, opal wings ached, and their throats were scratchy. It would take some time for their frost breath to recover before the next ambush.
By Victoria Turnbullabout a year ago in Fiction