Chloë J.

Joined August 2021

642 stories

Bio

Probably not as funny as I think I am

Insta @chloe_j_writes

Achievements (4)

Stories (642)

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you have to stop. Runner-Up in From Across the Room Challenge.
you have to stop. looking at me, pinning me in place innocuously with those eyes. a butterfly beneath glass. for you, its fleeting. a courtesy.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
The End of the World
I thought it would be louder At the end of the world, All a fuss and big to-do. Fires, pain, all in chaos, At the end of the world.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
Wanting
I'm not good at this. i wish i was. Some girls are so, so good, at laughing, talking, touching. maybe some of them touch you.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
What Do I Know?
“Write what you know,” Well you see, that’s the problem, you know? I know nothing; nothing I write is about what I know-
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
Homeless?
Home is nebulous Multifaceted. Unformed. Everywhere. Nowhere. A mirage in the desert, shifting, close then achingly far.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
Operation Barn Owl
The world was still when she awoke, in the way it can only be after snow has carpeted it in its hoary sheen. For a long while she lay still, cocooned in the warmth of her blankets, watching the flakes steadily march towards the ground to join the layer that already grew there. It was too early for the sun to have fully risen, and the dim light of the early morning made for an even more otherworldly sight. It was one of many reasons she didn’t have curtains or blinds; to wake up to views like this. Even if such an indulgence was a risk.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Fiction
Time To Prey
“Goodnight,” I called over my shoulder, before stepping out from the warmth and light of the house into the winter night outside. I braced myself, but it did little to prepare me for the bite of the wind and the sharp coldness of the air. I took a deep breath and launched myself into the night, my way lit by the stars flooding the clear night sky. It was beautiful. And freezing.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Fiction
Shrouds of a Feather
The Cabin Fog lay heavy on the mountain, blanketing the surroundings in a shroud of white. The few trees close enough to be visible from the cabin stood as lone sentinels, stark against the eerie pale of the mist. A woman stared out from a window, watching as the golden light of the afternoon sun slipped slowly, yet decisively, into twilight.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Fiction
An Open and Somewhat Closed Letter
The word “legacy” has become a buzzword for something epic; the story, empire, or inheritance you leave behind. Some people, for better or worse, have left huge legacies in their wake. Mother Teresa left a legacy of compassion, self-sacrifice, and love. Hitler left a legacy of hatred and destruction. Infamous people leave proportionately large legacies. The rest of us leave little legacies in our wake, throughout our life, some good some bad. They intertwine and fold in on each other and multiply until their effects are as far reaching as the remnants of historical giants. The process is just a little different.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Families
Batter Out
This is the story of my first ever date. A pivotal moment for anyone, but especially for a young woman who, as a junior in college, was a late bloomer by anyone's standards. Not to mention I'd spent many, many years wondering what my first date would be like, what kind of guy I'd go out with, and, as the years wore on, the increasing panic-ridden thought that I may never even have a first date at all.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Confessions
'Twas the Night Before COVID
Twas the night before COVID, and all through the nation Citizens listened to misinformation “Two weeks of a shutdown is all there will be,
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Poets
Stolen
“Aiutami! Aiutami! Non può respirare! La mia amica non può respirare!” Tonio’s panicked voice raised the alarm, as Gina thrashed on the ground, gasping for air, her hands clutched around her throat and her eyes bulging. Tonio waved his arms and started to cry, screaming for help, that his friend couldn't breathe, while Gina’s face grew blue. In no time at all, a small crowd of tourists had gathered around, babbling frantically in more languages than Carissa could understand. She thought she heard English, maybe some French, but the rest were unfamiliar and impossible to discern in the moment. Gina continued to writhe on the ground, while Tonio turned up the waterworks, eliciting pity and comfort from a large Australian woman carrying a gaudy purple purse, creating the diversion the rest of them needed.
By Chloë J.4 years ago in Fiction