Laura Lann
Bio
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
Stories (126)
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Escaping the Curse . Top Story - November 2024.
He walks through the door, a smile lopsided on his face, his cheeks slightly red. Perhaps it’s the cold, perhaps it’s the long afternoon spent in the garage. He had been loud before, quite loud. His green eyes flash bright, like his teeth. His curls are messy, streaked with grease and kissing his forehead. Internally, I flinch. Familiar chords pluck in my chest in a painful pinch. But, not him, never. He’s not afflicted with the same curse as my parents, as many are. I was careful in my choosing.
By Laura Lannabout a year ago in Horror
Lessons of Kindness
You taught me it was important to be a good person. You spanked it into me when I was unkind with my words or swift with my fists. In rhymes and mantras you drilled phrases into my head as my default programing. They echo still in my brain as I bite my tongue when someone ripens my temper.
By Laura Lannabout a year ago in The Swamp
Two Parents. Runner-Up in Love Unraveled Challenge. Top Story - March 2024.
My father was two people stitched tightly together into the same body. Allen was every hallmark of a great father. A parent that took time to notice the small things his children adored. He invested energy into every hobby I picked up. Promptly, he bought me the books and tools to make it flourish. We would problem solve together how to construct my next idea. I would bring him elaborate plans that I had drawn out and done the math on. He would double check it then off to the porch we would go to build it. I was an artist, a crafter, a writer, sculpture, builder, and reader. I was anything and everything my creative mind yearned to be.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Confessions
Wondering
She shuffles the streets, rubbing her gloved hands together. Downtown is quiet today with only the occasional slide of tires on the fresh snow. The temperature has plummeted to the negatives and the shelters are full. She must keep moving. Her last cigarette sits in her pocket but she is waiting to smoke it when the sun creeps out of sight. The nights are long and the warmth of the smoke in her lungs is to be spared.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Fiction
Water Spirit
Cold up to my thighs hugs me stiffly as I push through the piles of white. Down, down, I traverse. The mountain looms behind me like a watchful guard as I descend towards the ribbon of teal. Rushing, gurgling, churning water over stones drowns out the pants of my breath and the thudding in my head. The river is closer now, just beyond the stretch of my arms. Ice closes the edge of its bank in ragged, broken sheets. A raven calls out from the birch forest. The mountain shudders. The snow is not as deep here, and I tug my feet free at last. My steps stumble. I lean forward, my hands on my knees, and wait to catch my breath. The thin nightdress clings to me like a sheet to a ghost. Chills dance up my arms and down my neck.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Fiction
