Heather Brackman
Stories (3)
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To Kill Time
Aiden feverishly punched in his password and watched his screen pause as it loaded. A second longer and he might bash his monitor. The screen updated, showing Aiden his bank account. $0.00. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his temple. His heart beat uncontrollably.
By Heather Brackman4 years ago in Fiction
Breathe
I shifted in the aged wooden chair that was pulled up to our kitchen table. It creaked underneath me while I put as much weight as I could onto the cookie cutter surrounded by dough. My sister, who sat across the table from me, got up and took a break from our annual tradition of cookie making the day of Christmas Eve. Small white snowflakes whisped through the air outside and the gloomy atmosphere made for perfect Christmas baking weather. I delicately peeled a man shaped dough piece off the floured table and gently placed it on a metal sheet. The delicate process of transferring dough took all my concentration, as I made sure to keep in tact all of the man’s parts. Feet first, then torso and arms came second. I just about finished laying him down when the phone rang. Startled, my hand shook, ripping the cookie man’s head off. The padding of my moms feet became more and more audible the closer she walked. My back facing her, I heard the hastiness in her footsteps as she slid the last few feet to the phone.
By Heather Brackman5 years ago in Families
The Not So Glamorous Life of a Fashion Designer Who Never Really Cared About Glamour in the First Place. Top Story - June 2021.
I looked like a boy. Granted, at age 8, this was highly intentional but nonetheless I was a girl choosing to wear exclusively boys’ clothing. I was deemed the token weird kid in my grade. As a child I loved playing basketball, my favorite color was blue, however stereotypical that is, and picking up worms or frogs when found was something I genuinely looked forward to. Frankly, to this day I still fight the urge deep, deep inside me to pick up a frog when I spot one, but alas, that’s an entirely different story. Bringing it back to the point, I struggled a lot when I was a kid. I couldn’t keep friends for more than a school year, I constantly felt like an outcast, and the comments made about my appearance weren’t always easy to ignore. But most of all I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why I was expected to wear dresses and skirts and flowery things and ruffles and LIKE THE COLOR PINK. Why was that considered “normal” for a girl but my basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt weren’t? Ack. In all honesty, I’ve only recently warmed up to some of those things at age 25. I still rock oversized shorts and t-shirts on occasion though.
By Heather Brackman5 years ago in Motivation
