'Lissa Stufflestreet
Bio
I'm just a daydreaming college student who's been manifesting becoming a writer since I was five. I never stick to just one writing genre (and typically write dark content). | she/they
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Stories (264)
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The One Who Survived...
April 15, 1912 2:45am The sea all around us was dark. The only light coming from the tiny flashlight I had just shoved into my pocket before everything occurred. Faint screams were sounded from where the ship that couldn't sink once stayed afloat. The passengers on our lifeboat kept telling the crew member to go back and rescue those screaming and splashing around in the water, but he kept telling us how his priority was our safety. No amount of begging and pleading could get this guy to change his mind; if you ask me, I'm pretty sure he just wanted to save himself.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Her Final Minutes
April 14, 1912 8:40pm Dinner just concluded. Everyone was either piling back towards their rooms or staying to socialize amongst the others who decided they didn't feel like going to their room just yet. Mothers and fathers sat together and they allowed for their young children to run about the room; probably an attempt to tire them out before bed. Men conversed among the crowds with bottles of beers in their hands; laughing over the music playing through the speakers. Women gathered together to converse and gossip amongst each other; trying to talk over the men as they gazed at them with heavenly eyes. I just sat.. writing in you, journal. I wasn't really up for conversation, but I also wasn't really up for going back to my room just yet. Sometimes I wished for my parents to have sent me a first class ticket. I know they couldn't, as for those tickets were pretty expensive, but I would kill for my own room all to myself. The people of third class are nice folks and all but, as someone who would much rather keep to myself and have some privacy, I really do wish I could have had at least some kind of space. These rooms we were given are pretty tight. I get it. Third class passengers didn't spend as much as those in first, or even second, but we seriously deserved to have at least a little bit of space. They spent all their time at creating the world's finest unsinkable ship, but they couldn't even let the people of third class at least get some kind of decoration to pretty up the walls of our space?
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Love, Me
Ethan, Long time, no talk. Sorry 'bout that. No matter how many times I've had someone breathing down my neck to get me to write this letter, it was still just as hard for me to pull out the pad of paper and pencil. I don't want to have to do this. Trust me, Ethan, I don't. I know you probably have said so much about me to all your peers;
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
