Emily-Stories
Bio
Welcome to Emily Stories, where I craft heartfelt tales under my pen name Emily. Through these carefully woven narratives, I explore life's journey, nurture the soul, and ignite personal growth.
Stories (16)
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The Garden of Second Chances
Marcus stared at the wilted tomato plant, its leaves drooping like the shoulders of a disappointed child. He fought the urge to check his phone for the hundredth time that morning, as if constant vigilance could somehow hurry along the growing process.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Long Game
Sarah drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, watching the seconds tick by on the dashboard clock. The kind of seconds that seemed to stretch, viscous and uncooperative, much like the line of cars ahead of her. Some truths come wrapped in ordinary moments, even those spent in gridlock traffic.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Invisible Thread
There's a particular weight to silence in the predawn hours, heavier, expectant, like the world holding its breath. Or at least that was what Derrick tried telling himself, sitting there staring at his computer screen, the cursor winking on accusingly at a half-finished report.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Whisper of Leaves
The sleek electric car wrapped its way up the mountain road; the almost silent engine was in contrast to the cacophony of birds chirping and leaves fluttering in the wind outside. At the wheel, the CEO, 45-year-old Ethan Reeves, clutched the wheel with an iron grip while the muscles of his jaw clenched with frustration.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Taste of Memory
The aroma of simmering spices wafted through the small apartment, a scent that transported Amina Patel, 67, back to Mumbai. She stirred the pot of chai slowly, her arthritic fingers wrapped around a worn wooden spoon - one that had crossed oceans and decades to be here.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Invisible Thread
Dr. Amira Hassan, 55, grasped the lectern tightly with both hands as her heart raced under her neatly pressed blazer. The conference hall was alive with anticipation as a sea of faces-some skeptical, others inquisitive-stared back at her.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Developer's Heart
The scale model of Wheeler Heights shone under the conference room lights, all glass and steel and promise. Tom Wheeler adjusted one of the miniature trees with his index finger, remembering when this block had been nothing but run-down shops and that stubborn little bookstore.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Night Shift
Amelia stared at her reflection in the break room mirror, adjusting her nurse's badge for the third time. First night shift. Solo. No preceptor watching over her shoulder. The fluorescent lights made her complexion look almost as pale as her scrubs, and the coffee in her thermos (her fourth cup today) wasn't helping the slight tremor in her hands.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Mile
The morning alarm buzzed at 4:45 AM, and Sarah Chen didn't hit snooze. Not because she was one of those mythical morning people – she definitely wasn't – but because the manila envelope on her dresser wouldn't let her. The one with the rejection letter from last year's Chicago Marathon lottery, now serving as her makeshift vision board.
By Emily-Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
