Ashanti Pettaway
Stories (3)
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The Protector Owl
Sleeping is not my strong suit–never has been. It always seems that when the day goes to rest, my thoughts are just waking up. They slither from their resting place–wherever that might be–and they begin to gnaw at me. They are relentless, making for ever-restless nights. What’s more, is that when I finally do fall into a deep enough slumber, I dream. And I dream hard. My dreams are often so vivid and visceral that they bleed into reality. More often than not, when I wake, my first order of business is to spend the first several moments of the day sorting between what is real, and what may have been a dream.
By Ashanti Pettaway4 years ago in Fiction
Hot Water
With far too many things in her hands–per usual–Mariah struggles to unlock her door. As she juggles the bags in her hands, she accidentally activates the singing welcome mat her neighbors have outside their door. While it is seasonally appropriate, complete with a reindeer that has a string of lights tangled in its antlers, it is awfully loud… especially when trying to tiptoe in late in the evening. But this was no matter, as her neighbors are on vacation for three weeks.
By Ashanti Pettaway4 years ago in Fiction
Permission
The sun kissed my skin as the waves licked the rocks around me. It felt as though I was sitting on my own personal granite-Titanic and the world was my oyster. It was in this very moment where I first began to feel my old exterior crack apart. As the pieces of my former self fell away and splashed into the ocean, the sunlight eased its way into me, taking up residence in all of the gaps that were left behind. Soon, I felt complete again, and the sun reflected off of the new me – the true me. It was then and there that I truly gave myself permission to be, me.
By Ashanti Pettaway4 years ago in Motivation
