Maggie Justice
Bio
Writing will forever be my favorite way to put words to the pictures in my brain.
I've wanted to be writer for as long as I can remember.
Stories (11)
Filter by community
The Nurturer Versus The Buddy
For seven years I have built a career working with youth in residential settings. I began my career when I was nineteen working in a Psychiatric Medical Institute for Children, then moving to a correctional group home for youth, and on to my current role as a Milieu Lead in a crisis center. I have learned many ways to therapeutically serve youth in a variety of settings. I have built a reputation that I am proud of, and at this point in my career I find myself turning my focus from the clients to the staff who support them. I want to find an effective way to put the knowledge I have gained through experience working with at-risk and traumatized youth and put it into the brains of my peers. One of the first things I teach new staff is how to interact with the youth and create a healthy relationships with firm boundaries.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Psyche
Waiting for the Owl
My dad used to tell me that whenever I could hear an owl outside my window it meant that he was thinking of me. I used to strain my ears until I could hear an owl almost every night. Now I know that there must have been a nest nearby and that there is no magic in the sounds of the owls outside at night. They never meant my dad was thinking of me, but I understand why he said so. He didn't want me to hate him for leaving all the time so he found magic everywhere he could. He even used to bring me a stuffed owl when he came home from his business trips.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Fiction
Remarkably Me
When I was around twelve years old my mom and I found an early 2000’s era PC at a garage sale. It was bulky in shape and almost too heavy to carry in my feeble arms as I hauled it back to the car. I was so proud I bought my first computer all by myself for only a dollar! It was the ugliest dark green I had ever seen, but I was awestruck. It had no internet capabilities and all I could do was type on Notepad. That didn’t bother me, I was absolutely giddy with excitement to have something I could type my stories onto. I felt like an official author with my very own computer. I loved it so much I gave her a name: Bubbles. Bubbles was a hard working computer. I typed the days away and played Minesweeper for hours on end, until one day she wouldn’t turn on again and crashed for good.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Motivation
Honey, Could You Bee Any Cuter?
Cosmo-tron, Cosmo-sauce, Cosmo the Love of My Life. Whatever he's referred to as, there's no doubt he will perk his ears and superman jump into your lap no matter where you are or how big he is. This year, Cosmo and I decided to dress him up as a bumble bee, one of the nice furry ones that don't sting and save the planet. This will be Cosmo's fourth Halloween since we rescued each other in 2017. This year, his daycare offered to take Halloween pictures of the pups in costumes and Cosmo and I could not say no.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Petlife
The Woman in Red
The townspeople all know of the spectre of darkness that blankets the lake. They’ve all heard the echoing melody that lures children to the edge of the dark water. Many children in the town have disappeared, last seen walking calmly into the waters that reach up to consume them, their bodies never recovered from the lake despite the efforts from the local law enforcement. Sometimes, there’s not even a splash. People, as humans do, have woven tales for generations. Some people claim to have seen a woman in black near the lake, is it a ghost that lures the children to the depths? A lake monster? As the skeptics would say, a lack of parental supervision that sends the children to their deaths? What supernatural force dwells beneath the obsidian currents of the Black Lake?
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Horror
Open Water
Rivers, creeks, streams, they offered her comfort. The sound of the trickling water grounded her. The smell of rain and the growth of moss gave her a sense of calm. It was ironic then that lakes, oceans, and even the deep end of the swimming pool terrified her. There was something about the unknown depth that caused her imagination to run wild. She feared drowning, of not being able to breathe. Imagine the brutality of her death when the last moments of her life were spent choking on the waves that crashed against her body.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Fiction
The Frozen Pond
Growing up, my dad told a lot of tall tales. I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor listening to him breathe life into the stories with his words. Our family descends from a Scandinavian tribe in the north, so naturally, my favorite stories are based on lore. It was sad to watch my dad grow old, to see the wrinkles around his forest green eyes deepen and multiply with age. I remember his eyes most, so full of amusement and warmth. I’m grown now, hiking with my dog to our favorite campsite. I visit this place every year. It reminds me of the last time my dad took me camping.
By Maggie Justice4 years ago in Fiction
Safety
I have always paid close attention to people and situations that feel safe. It’s my superpower. I am drawn to them. Safety, to me, is not always a person or a situation. Sometimes it’s a place. Sometimes, it’s just a feeling. I have spent a long time learning to tell the difference between what is safe and what is a band-aid for insecurity.
By Maggie Justice5 years ago in Motivation
To Ride A Jet-Powered Broomstick
When I was growing up my mom hated planes. In fact, to this day she wouldn’t even drive me to the airport. We drove everywhere, every family vacation was a road trip kind of vacation. When I was a sophomore in high school my choir class took a trip to Boston, Mass. and rode a bus for 27 hours to get there. I had gotten pretty lucky, in my dated opinion, that the occasion never arose to have to ride in a plane.
By Maggie Justice5 years ago in Wander
Grieving Into Oblivion
The bridesmaids were huddled together outside trying to keep warm in the October chill. The photographer directed them around and they smiled and doted over the bride and groom. Once back to the reception hall the wedding party took their seats at the front table. The food was served and the toasts were made. Tears were shed by nearly everyone in the room, but there was one bridesmaid who was crying for an entirely different reason.
By Maggie Justice5 years ago in Humans
A Beautiful Day
It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves were still clinging to the trees, the colors blazing in reds, purples, and oranges. The sun was shining and the clouds were feather-like and wispy. Neighbors were walking their dogs in light sweaters and cardigans, comfortable in the sixty-six-degree weather. The windows were open, the wind carrying the laughter of the children a few houses down as they chased each other around the trees.
By Maggie Justice5 years ago in Psyche
