Erica Nicolay
Bio
I have written stories since I was thirteen and enjoy releasing short stories online. I have published one book about the Hitler Youth Program titled True to the End, which you can buy on Amazon.
Stories (35)
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The Illusion of Time
Mr. Durvey hurriedly put on his coat and hat, caught up his wallet and threw open the door. Your keys! Don’t forget your keys! His mind chided him, as he was just in the act of flying into the street. Shaking his head and checking his watch at the same time that he bounded back up the steps, he made a dash back toward the coat rack, where his keys resided. He paused, just in the act of leaving again. Be back in time for supper. Susan will want you, his mind chided him. He hesitated.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Families
The Illusion of Time
Mr. Durvey hurriedly put on his coat and hat, caught up his wallet and threw open the door. Your keys! Don’t forget your keys! His mind chided him, as he was just in the act of flying into the street. Shaking his head and checking his watch at the same time that he bounded back up the steps, he made a dash back toward the coat rack, where his keys resided. He paused, just in the act of leaving again. Be back in time for supper. Susan will want you, his mind chided him. He hesitated.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Fiction
A Chapter in the Life of Detective Frizzywhiskers
It was an early morning, at the point of time when night just runs into early Dawn, and--as they rub shoulders in passing one another--well, there you have a new day. I was slouched in my easy chair, for I had stayed up most of the night working on the upcoming chase and a review of our new convicts’ backgrounds. All my papers were still piled up around me; I guess my head was somewhere in the middle of all the work, pillowed on my desk. A small box of cat nip sat beside my half eaten doughnut, and the remains of a warm cup of milk sat beside it.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Fiction
Pastels and Stationery
Thomas Sanders was sauntering down the lane, as he always did, at four o’clock—after he had closed up the drug store. He was deeply engrossed in meditation, ruminating about his customers. He had listened to the elderly Miss Sarah Payton talk of her cousin, and her garden with its solitary marigold flower, and every article of her ornate fifty-piece tea set from the Orient. All this, Thomas had heard before, but the conversation that he must replay again and again was one which he had never intended to have…with a girl he had never met before.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Families
