Maria Parsheva
Bio
She had eyes like ocean water, deep sea glass with rugged edges
She had lips as hard as pearls and coral moonlight in her hair
Hi, I'm Maria and I've been writing poetry, stories and books since I was very young. To me writing is breathing.
Stories (10)
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LOST
On a day I find myself sitting on a swing made of oak, on a porch made of pine, by a house made of stone. Lazily swinging back and forth I stare out at the dying sun. My right hand reaches out to feel the cold stone as I swing alone in the dark green wood. Cold mist settles in, slowly creeping at my feet filling them with dread and longing. A longing for something lost.
By Maria Parsheva6 years ago in Horror
Stairway to Micro-Heaven
When it comes to the "poor and huddled masses" in terms of taxes, education, and healthcare all political candidates just wanna do is slap a bandaid on it. Slappin that bandaid and skiddadle on your way now! Never have I ever heard any of our lovely politicians speak about microfinance and the role it may play in aiding the poor on climbing out of darkness.
By Maria Parsheva6 years ago in The Swamp
THE OTHER SIDE OF FEAR
For the past three years I lived my life in silent misery and despair. The sensation of actual physical pain clenched at my mind like metal prongs, a systematic torture I consciously put myself through with calculated purpose every single day.
By Maria Parsheva6 years ago in Motivation
