Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro
Stories (164)
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The Miraculous Macaw
Looking up through the trees as some stimulus unnoticed by her not-tuned-in-to-the-surroundings ears made all the difference, she watched as several macaws took flight and flapped their brilliantly colored wings elegantly as they journeyed to their next destination. Another branch on another tree perhaps. Another vantage point from which to view the world. Oh to be a bird.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
The Flight of the Barn Owl
Looking out, she was used to seeing the same old things: the scenery, the landscape and everything that inhabits it, interacting and behaving in the same ways that they always have. The winds blowing and their response always remaining the same. Breathtaking in a way that is devoid of all surprise; it seemed like nothing could shock her anymore, because every time she checked, each thing went unchanged.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
Frozen October
Sometimes it surprises her when she remembers that this once was her favorite place in the world. The place she wanted to be, the place she dreamt of, the place she did everything in her power to avoid leaving. Now she’d rather be anywhere else, it’s the centerpiece to her nightmares, and she wishes she were strong enough to not come back. It feels surreal to her, the way that everyone else can still act as though there’s nothing unusual about it here.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
Murder Ballads and Ghost Stories
There are things far scarier in life than the tales of monsters and ghouls that spooked us when we were younger. Ghosts from our past: former lovers, regrets for what we wish we had done, or what we wish we had done differently, pain and suffering, and the way we treat each other are much scarier than shadows and loud noises. This playlist highlights some real-life scary situations by being comprised of murder ballads and ghost stories. Though the latter may present themselves in a very different way than those we think of in the traditional sense, they are very much tales of people and scenarios from our past that continue to haunt us today.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Beat
Her Heaven is a Pear Tree
Sitting there, looking out, she felt a peace she could never quite attain anywhere else she seemed to find herself. She was always adrift, landing wherever the world led her. The people around her were like the waves, rocking her life back and forth, leading her from one task to another, sidetracking her from her goals and leading her astray from the path she had set out on, determinedly. So she’s always grasping, grasping for something to ground her, reaching for a person or a place that will tether her back to the ground so that she can strive for her dreams again. Caroline has always been one to have her head in the clouds, always dreaming, but she knows that as precious as this time is, to make it all worthwhile, she must also have her feet on the ground, so she’s able to make strides toward the world she envisions for herself. Dreaming without action only ends in misery and disappointment of chances not taken and wishes unfulfilled.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
The Day the Ice Melted
Every year, she’d come out here and walk around the perimeter, wishing she had the courage to walk out on the surface the way it seemed everybody else did. They skated around on the pond like they had no care in the world and fear was something they had only heard about from horror movies. It wasn’t something that lived in and consumed their hearts the way it did for Josephine. She longed to venture out onto that ice and spin, twirl and pirouette like the last remaining dried up leaves from the summer before that just gave up their grip on the old phase of their lives, swirling through the air to the next step in their adventure. Oh, to let go so completely the way those leaves did. How she envied those former light-absorbers.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
Waves in the Right Direction
The first sign was the day she was out on the water. Down on the boat, out of the harbor, looking out at the ocean, it was clear to her even before the naturalists pointed it out, the water was green. This means it’s healthy, teaming with life. It was a sunny day, and the light reflecting off of the waves made the ocean sparkle, as though it were dressed up and ready for something big. The color of the water was welcoming, to her it said, “go ahead, this is the right way. Take another step in this direction. You’re moving in the direction of your destiny.”
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
The Ride
I can feel my blood thumping through my veins on a molecular level. Each blood cell coursing forward ever-faster with rhythmic dedication to getting to it’s destination, which is more of a journey than a place, being that it’s going to be back in this same spot in another moment, especially when my heart’s pumping at this pace. It seems like I’m always in this state.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
Her Golden Years
She’s sitting in the garden, in the same spot she always likes to be, staring at the flowers. Although she does see the beauty in the entirety of the display, she plants herself here for one particular flower, the marigold. The marigold flower is the true reason she’s here. In all honesty, the violets, roses, tulips, nasturtiums, and whatever else they choose to plant here throughout the warmer months are nothing to her but a passing joy that one gains from any other meaningless small ephemeral beauty that one encounters along one’s journey. She appreciates them for what they are, flowers; however, the marigolds are much more than that.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro4 years ago in Fiction
