Zianna Weston
Bio
I am a true crime obsessed pet mom to Barb the cat and Harv the dog (adopt don't shop!). Ravenclaw. Currently somewhere in Los Angeles, probably watching a movie.
Stories (2/0)
Home Alone
The piercing heels of her stiletto patent leather boots clapped against the wet sidewalk. The puddles under her feet are no match for her step and they move to envelop her foot. They never stood a chance. A single drop of red falls from her finger, a peaceful drop that mixes in with the dirty street water. Another piece of Yankee Hat that will never return home.
By Zianna Weston3 years ago in Fiction
Rachel was not going to be like her mother.
Rachel was not going to be like her mother. Pacing frenetically across her messy bedroom, Rachel grabbed a seemingly random assortment of things, and stuffed them into a faded black backpack with duct tape on the strap. She skirted around the sturdy oak-framed bed, with blue dingy sheets and a faded quilt. Clothes were strewn about the room. On the floor. On the dresser. On her old Chemistry textbook. Hanging out of the hastily half-opened drawers. She shook a bottle of Bath & Body Works peony body spray with barely any liquid left. Not enough to bring with, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it out either. She darted past the posters from magazines tacked to the walls, her attempt to decorate the room without spending any money. Past the old boom box with a case full of burned CDs. The soundtracks she’d often used to drown out the explosive fights that punctuated the deafening silence.
By Zianna Weston3 years ago in Fiction
