Lisa Pulliam
Bio
I love making fun of my emotions, feelings, and thoughts in short form writing such as songs and illustrations. I would like to write longer and more explorative pieces for others to read.
Achievements (1)
Stories (74)
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Stranger No More
It was never fun or easy to get to grandma’s house. She lived deep in the woods. Looking back it’s clear mom felt she has too many kids. Always sending them out into the woods by themselves. I suspect she wanted to lose more of us. She lost one girl early on and seemed pretty unconcerned. She never gave us warnings or any weapons, just sent us out like toy soldiers. Thomas was pretty good about keeping his wits about him. Me, I was pretty hopeless.
By Lisa Pulliam11 months ago in Fiction
Maggie, Sam, John
When I was flying high, I was flying high with you. It was my favorite time of the day as we were higher in the stratosphere than other cars would go. My gratitude for living in 2050 and having this job as an option to clean the sky was high on my list of things I love.
By Lisa Pulliamabout a year ago in Futurism
Falling for the Right Person
I met someone. I wasn’t planning on it. It was at the beginning of a year in travel. I got back from Barcelona and a guy with a messy red beard and likely messy bed head under a beanie said “good job.” I smiled but internally rolled my eyes. He was just happy to have his snacks restocked at work. I must admit the acknowledgment felt kind of good. A few weeks later he comes up to me when I am setting up the cookies for the February birthday babies. “It’s my birthday this month.” I reply with “ok great, have a cookie” and I turned away before my smile becomes pure annoyance.
By Lisa Pulliamabout a year ago in Motivation
The Warmest Winters with You
The warmest winter nights were always spent inside of your arms. When we meet, it was on a snowy day in Minnesota. My step mom convinced my California dad to leave his home town. There I was arriving at the airport and about to sleep on some sleek ice. You caught me before I fell. Those big brown eyes reminded me of chestnuts roasting. I felt flushed and I thought you blushed as you realized you held on just a little too long. After asking if I was steady again, you slowly let me go and turned to walk away. I am pretty sure the heat between us left some of the snow melted. And I wondered if I would see you again. I brushed aside the thought and went to focus on the getting home to see my dad. I was contemplating my strategy to avoid the ice queens questions. She was cold to me and sent chills down my spine with every job question. As she couldn’t understand non-profits were to help people. In her mind, the people who needed help were unambitious. In my mind, she was a tad unrealistic and narrow minded. I asked them to breakfast at a local diner hoping to distract her from asking me questions. Maybe the server or the menu could allow us to have new conversations. As we settled down you had shown up with your family. Our booth was too big and I found my step mother asking your family to join us. Your eagerness was overwhelmingly sweet as you smiled and marched forward. Then you remembered your parents and turned to look at them for agreement. They both smiled brightly at you. You slide next to me like we had known each other since high school. And you beamed when I asked what your name was. You were Bryan with a y not an i. I said Hallie with an I not a y. We both laughed. This was our first Christmas together. You were charming and sweet with my step mother. You acknowledged her fashion sense which made her as giddy as a school girl. She laughed and said oh you must stop while eagerly awaiting you to continue. It surprised me how much you made the coldest person I have ever known into the most friendly woman. My dad spoke up and said “now son this woman is spoken for and that little lady next to you is free. You best be pointing your attention towards her.” My step mom laughed heartily. She smiled approvingly at you and then at my father for stepping in. I was stunned by how you made all of my family instantly happy. You looked over at me and smiled. “Single, huh.” I couldn’t stop from beaming at you. I pointed at my finger and said “yup, and I am hoping to find someone good.” You tilted your head “I think it’s a bit soon and I have no money for a ring yet.” I almost swallowed my water by accident and I said “yet, that’s a key word here.” The rest of the meal was full of laughter as your family shared your crazy childhood antics. The best one was when you accidently got your toboggan nearly stuck into the neighbor's barn. You steered away in time but just barely made it. And then my dad shared the one time I got caught skipping school. I defended myself. “It was an accident. I swear, I thought I was getting on the right bus home.” We all laughed over the public school system not checking the head count properly or the names. The following year you got the whole family singing my praises. The new Christmas song at our house was “hallelujah, hallelujah the haaaaaaassssss climates chaaaaaaangggged. And all throughout the land.” Every year there was a new sweet of positive memories of you, your family, my family, and one year our family. I am so grateful you are in my life. You filled my home with laughter and mirth. You were like the never ending hearth at the home. And I loved every minute with you. From the playful songs, the hilarious texts, to the days where we played footsie by the fire. You made every winter day comfy and cozy. It was like being wrapped in a blanket of love with every comment and joke between us and our loved ones. Thank you so much for making every Christmas with our families even better than the last one.
By Lisa Pulliamabout a year ago in Families
The Story to End All Stories
I remember reading The Artist’s Way. They ask you to explore some idea or concept like who was the critic that killed your artistic career. There was not a single critic who came to mind. I remember all of those praises as a child for my art. But it wasn’t art like paintings or drawings. It was the writer that got killed.
By Lisa Pulliam2 years ago in Writers
Separation
My shadow trapped me inside the hall of mirrors. I saw endless images of me that were reflections of times of sadness and loss. She was out and about acting like she was me. I could hear the yelling and screaming. The banging and crashing down the halls echoed loudly.
By Lisa Pulliam3 years ago in Fiction
