Elendionne
Bio
28, lives in Canada, short story addict. Office worker by day, writer by night. Collector of notebooks, crier over fictional breakups, and firm believer that short stories are espresso shots for the soul. Welcome to my little writing nook!
Stories (8)
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The Same Seat Every Morning
She always sat in the same seat - third table from the left, near the window where the light filtered through at just the right angle—warm but not blinding. The coffee shop had changed over the years. The menu got fancier, the music softer. But that corner stayed the same, and so did June.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
The coffee's still hot
I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring like it had something personal against me. 6:30 a.m. The sky outside was dull and gray, the kind of morning that feels like it never really woke up. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment longer than I should’ve, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pretending that five more minutes wouldn’t make me even later.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
A Basket by the Door
I always thought Easter was for the little things - the clink of porcelain mugs on the kitchen counter, the crinkle of plastic grass in baskets, the smell of my mom’s lemon bread toasting in the oven, spread thick with butter and jam. It was for pastel sweaters and garden blooms and little foil-wrapped chocolates melting in your hand.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
The Egg That Wasn't
Marigold “Mari” Puddlewhistle had lived her entire life in the town of Peepwillow, a place so obsessed with Easter that they left their pastel bunting up year-round. Their post office smelled faintly of marshmallow, and every address came with an automatic subscription to “The Bunny Bulletin.”
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
The Space Between Us
It didn’t happen all at once. That’s the hardest part to explain. There was no big fight, no betrayal, no slamming doors or raised voices. Just a slow drift, like two people sharing the same space but living in different worlds. A gentle unraveling. Quiet. Almost kind.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
The Art of Being Ordinary
“The Girl in the Back Row” Elena Moore had never won an award in her life. Not for academics. Not for sports. Not for kindness or creativity or even punctuality. She had no gold stars in kindergarten, no “most likely to succeed” in middle school, and certainly no scholarships lined up when she graduated high school with a GPA that was somewhere between "okay" and "at least you passed."
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
In The Quiet Corners
It was always in the quiet corners that Oliver found her. Library nooks where dust danced in golden slivers of light, empty music rooms where forgotten pianos sat in soft silence, or on the park bench under the magnolia tree that bloomed even when the world felt asleep. Nora had a way of inhabiting spaces as if she belonged to them more than they belonged to her.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
The Shape of Almost
Elena had always believed love would feel like sunlight—warm, sure, and constant. And for a while, it did. Or maybe she’d just convinced herself it did. It was easy to believe when James held her hand in public, when he kissed her forehead before bed, when he told her he loved her every morning like it was a reflex.
By Elendionne9 months ago in Fiction
