Anilynn Cadell
Bio
Creative Writer
Aspiring Author
Stories (4)
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Little Green Alien Lights
My parents tucked me in, turned off the light and close the door so there is only the smallest crack of dim light peaking in. The darkness starts to surround me and again I am filled with a fear that stiffens my body. I know that if I ask to sleep with them again, they will assure me that everything is just fine and I am a big girl now and I need to stop doing this I’m eleven years old for Christ sake. I try to close my eyes but I feel safer with them open. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I begin to see the outline of everything in my room. My bed is in the corner and right next to me is a window facing our front yard. I can’t help but be consumed with dread wondering if it will be outside my window again. I debate for the next forty minutes whether or not I want to look out. I can’t bring myself to do it.
By Anilynn Cadell4 years ago in Fiction
The Young Witch
One night a year I am given the freedom to enjoy my real identity. My dress - layers of orange and black and purple – is three years old. This year, it is a little tight, but I can still get away with it. All but one of the felt decorative spiders on the dress has been chewed off – an anxious snack. I reveled in that one night a year in the dangerous authenticity of my costume, the daring implications of the witch.
By Anilynn Cadell5 years ago in Fiction
My Monster Mama Loves Me So
Each phase of my childhood had different bedtime books associated with them. My earliest memory of one was Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney next was The Pokey Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey all up through the second grade when I read myself books every night. My house wasn’t always the most stable growing up and reading (especially late at night when other things were going on downstairs) was a great escape. By fourth grade I had been gifted a small reading light and I read the entire Harry Potter series in just over a month. Reading far into the night and often I would wake up with the book still on me.
By Anilynn Cadell5 years ago in Psyche
Expired
I wake up in a puddle of drool and a cloud of fuzziness. I feel like I am moving in slow motion and as my hearing focuses, I hear my mother pleading me from the bottom step to get ready for school before I am late. My eyes shift to my alarm clock that reads 6:45. Shit. 10 minutes to get ready. I jump out of bed, grab some underwear and jeans out of my dresser and fumble to get them on. I snag my boyfriend’s gray track sweatshirt off my door handle and linger a second to take in his scent that is still on it. I practically leap into the bathroom that is right across from my room and I freeze. I hear my younger sister blasting the latest pop sludge from her room. I must still be dreaming. I take in my surroundings and examine my face closer in the mirror. I am not dreaming. On my forehead in type-writer font appears to be a brand of some sort. It reads EXP. 4.25.1983. I struggle to configure what this might mean and realize that April 25th, 1983 is today’s date. My heart starts pounding hard and slow, I can feel it in my throat. I run downstairs to show my mom who is finishing up her mug of earl gray at the kitchen table. She looks up.
By Anilynn Cadell5 years ago in Fiction
