Calista Marchand-Nazzaro
Bio
Always learning and always evolving. I’m a creative, an idea person, a thinker, a dreamer, and working on being a doer. Many interests. Varied content. Food. Sustainability. Comedy. Poetry. Music.
Stories (94)
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Family Tree
John has always looked out the same window overlooking the same yard – a yard of his ancestors’. This land has been the home of his family for many generations now and although he has always known it, he only really thinks about it upon occasion.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
A Story of Finding One’s Way
I hear people ask where I go for the winter. If an answer is provided, it is that I fly South. This may be true, or it may not. I do not know which way happens to be South and which way happens to be North. I know that deep inside my being, I feel the need to go, so I go. I go where my instinct tells me to go. I go until I get where I am meant to be, and until it feels right, I do not stop.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
The End of an Era
A young girl, somewhere around the age of ten, had a dream one night that would awaken her to the harsh reality of the world she was born into. Where exactly she was residing is unimportant in the grand scheme of things; she could be here or there, and it would happen just the same. It was a usual night, and she was dreaming a usual dream (if such a thing even exists). Whatever one of your classic dreams is, just imagine that is what she was seeing. The last bit of dream, just before she woke up, is the part she knew was different. She could feel the difference. It wasn’t really a dream, but it also was surely not physically happening. She now believes it was a spiritual meeting of sorts – that seems to be the only explanation that feels right.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Earth
Mary Gold’s Marigold Tea
Mary Gold was named after the marigold flower – big surprise there. With the last name of Gold and a yard full of those bright sunshiny flowers, what other choice did her parents really have? She quickly learned to embrace her namesake and began tending to the marigolds in the yard. She absolutely loved them. She loved the way they looked when she held her face close by the bright yellow petals; it was like the whole world was made of soft, delicate layers of sunshine. Unlike most, she loved the way their musky scent perfumed her when she walked between the plants. She loved the sound they made when the wind blew their leaves. She loved the feeling of the fluffy petals beneath her fingers. She especially loved the way they tasted.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
