K. P. Gordon
Bio
Fiction writer from New Orleans. I thank you for coming to my page and I hope you enjoy and subscribe to my stories!
I'm excited to hear/read your thoughts. Connect with me!
Twitter: @kpgordn
Instagram: @authorkpgordon
Stories (5)
Filter by community
A Fallen Blossom
Rammah pulled open the tiny piece of paper and tsked while a pit formed in his stomach, took hold. “What news, big brother?” asked Rammah’s half-sister, Lamia, her mouth was parted curiously in a small “o” shape. She held onto his sleeve. “News of the succession?”
By K. P. Gordon2 years ago in Fiction
Madam Librarian
Artie reached a tiny hand into the casket, grabbed the diary (barely), stuffed it into her coat, and walked away whistling. No one near the casket noticed – they never noticed. To a junior librarian it would have seemed like a routine job. Now the hard part: the waiting.
By K. P. Gordon2 years ago in Fiction
Life at the Pond
Huge footsteps in the snow, the tracks led nowhere from the pond. Curious, Cyndy brought a plate of food with her and left it at the base of the pond, fork sticking straight out of the mashed potatoes. She waited nearby, but no one came, so she returned to her cottage.
By K. P. Gordon3 years ago in Fiction
Visitors of the Twilight Inn
The fuel light popped on the dash, a red-orange to mirror the setting sun over the lake, right as Cedric and Emilia's car pulled onto the dirt road leading to the Twilight Inn. In the fading light, the lake did not at all look the deep blue the brochure made it out to be. The inn itself was worse.
By K. P. Gordon3 years ago in Fiction
A Life Well Spent
Lorraine Hobbs walked through the park noting the people who passed or who played with children, who fed ducks or who picnicked. She was not there to people watch, but she found the scene comforting. Absorbed in her observation, Lorraine almost missed Principal Rosa Castañeda sitting on a bench, sketching a group of young men throwing a frisbee. Time had etched more lines on her face, and she was a little rounder than Lorraine remembered, but the discerning hazel eyes and the rigid posture remained.
By K. P. Gordon5 years ago in Humans
