E.M. Vis

Joined February 2021

11 stories

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I absolutely love writing. It's my escape from the world and I love to write fantasy stories.

Stories (11)

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How to Exist
The world has told me “You only exist when I say so.”
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Poets
The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human
04/02/2022- Day Three Marcus! Today they let us have some time in the garden and the wind didn't try to rip the heads off the flowers. They wouldn't let me take you with me, which I think is a shame. You deserve to know what the wind feels like and how the sun can warm the parts of you you forgot about. But they said if they let me take you outside I might try to sneak something into the hospital and Dr. Krintin is very strict on keeping everything clean.
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Fiction
The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human
04/01/2022- Day Two Good Morning Marcus. Last night I got to see the moon as it came into the frame of my window. It was beyond glorious. The light it gave reminded me of spilled milk, pale and creamy on the grey floor of my room. In my excitement, I threw my blankets around my shoulders and became a queen.
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Fiction
The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human
03/31/2022 - Day One Dear Diary, This feels so weird, but the doctors recommended writing everything down so that maybe things will get better. I don't know what I'm supposed to put down here but I guess I can try my best, maybe it will get me out of here earlier. So...diary...no, you deserve a name. I have a name, which makes me feel more real when people use it, so you should have one too. Iggy? No too peppy. Marcus? Maybe, you are labeled Roman. Ok. Marcus. We'll give it a try.
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Fiction
A Waltz for a Burning World
Ashlyn was working up the courage to call her mother, the angry green call button blinking at her in silent command. She could feel the tears building, the uncomfortable pressure on her throat making her choke as she pressed her thumb to that button. It rang. Once. Twice. Click.
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Humans
Universes of Rebellions
The year is 2175 and I, Alixandra Knowalls, am the last of a dying breed. I was originally created to serve as a Protector for the World Ruler, Vitoria of Hamburg. My creation was not a peaceful one. At the young age of two hours old I was ripped from my mother’s frozen womb and placed inside an incubator designed by Dr. Knowalls faithful lab underneath Buckingham Palace.
By E.M. Vis4 years ago in Futurism
Of Thieves and Sorcerers
My wrists are covered in blisters and dried blood from the constant rubbing of the shackles locked too tightly around them. My head is resting against the harsh wood of the prison wagon as it rumbles along the potholed road. There’s a tiny slat in the wooden ceiling that allows for some of the sunshine to glint through, right into my eyes. I hiss and glance away from the blinding light. This repositioning of my line of sight brings into it a young boy with his head tucked between his knees, soft sobs emanating from him.
By E.M. Vis5 years ago in Fiction
Holes in the Walls
The boy stealing from my father’s garden would come to regret the fact that my first arrow missed. The dogs howling woke me from the peaceful place of dreams, and I cursed the moonlight that filtered into my room as I pushed aside the heavy curtains. My room, at the eastern edge of my father’s mansion, overlooked his prized gardens. The scent of lilacs and oranges competing for my attention as I shoved open the balcony doors. The light breeze caressed my bare calves and swirled my black hair around my tan shoulders.
By E.M. Vis5 years ago in Futurism
Breath of Life
The only thing keeping the ship from becoming a coffin for her twenty-five passengers was the girl tied to the bow. The job had been done hastily, the knots creaking dangerously with each wave they crested, and the ropes had rubbed the skin from the girl’s chest and thighs. Her gown had been soaked through her powers only strong enough to keep the ship from capsizing.
By E.M. Vis5 years ago in Futurism
The Balance Demanded
The wind cried as it slithered across the battlefield carrying with it the stench of rotting bodies and the promise of more bloodshed. The cries of the wounded and dying followed the wind up the massive hill to the encampment of the victors of that day’s battle. Most of the tents were dark, the soldiers in them either asleep or dying on the muddy field beneath the safety of their bedrolls. Three tents at the center of the camp blazed with firelight and the bustling of bodies between two of them identified them as hospital tents. The third, slightly larger and filled with dire conversation held five people around a table covered in maps and battle plans. A sixth person, cloaked in the enemy’s colors and tied to a chair in a far corner, tried to remember every detail spoken in her presence.
By E.M. Vis5 years ago in Serve
The Notebook of Worlds
Kathryn hadn’t meant to get caught staring at the man on the train. In fact, she hadn’t even meant to start staring in the first place, but the man was humming so very loud and she couldn’t focus on the project she was supposed to be reviewing. So really, the stare had started off as a glare, which had quickly shifted to genuine curiosity.
By E.M. Vis5 years ago in Horror

E.M. Vis

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(11)

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How to Exist

The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human

The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human

The Utterly False Diaries of a Totally Real Human

A Waltz for a Burning World

Universes of Rebellions

Of Thieves and Sorcerers

Holes in the Walls

Breath of Life

The Balance Demanded

The Notebook of Worlds

Stories (11)