Merry Adams
Bio
Trying hard to be an Ultrarunnner who actually runs a race (to which I have a blog @onesmallishstep). Continuously life learning, whether thats on how to raise a pygmy goat called Beyonce or how to file taxes in my new country.
Stories (6)
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Kate Bush v Tori Amos
It was the mid 80s. I was in a hot car, staring out an open window with my hand riding the rippling air of teenage angst and drama. This journey always managed to send me into a state of mental dreariness, particular during the monotonous landscape miles, which felt like slow motion driving over a B-grade movie set. We regularly travelled this 60 minute journey which took us from a beautiful farm into the nearest decent sized town of 3,000 people. During these trips, if the radio managed to crackle into existence, the local station became my vocal pinnacle and I would mumble along to legendary Australian rock, anticipating the occasional mind bend upon hearing international music
By Merry Adams4 years ago in Humans
Old Barns Do Lie
Bianca tried easing her leg into a mildly different position. She hoped this slight movement would limit the pain and stop any wailing. She knew she would make a noise but the jagged piece of old barn digging into her was making her nauseous. She desperately needed a physical shift to mash up the pain levels and stop the involuntary gasps she knew would come. She tried using that yoga breath she vaguely remembered from a previous life. What was it? Breathe in for 4, hold for 4 and then breathe out for 6 or was it 7 or 8? Gezuz I can't even remember how to breathe. Distracting herself for a millisecond she considered how much she had hated yoga. She had found two positions tolerable, Child's Pose and that Happy Baby one. She wished she could go into Child's Pose now. She held her breath. Had she heard something outside? Why had she run into the old barn? Now she was trapped having wedged herself in between a gun safe and an old barrel of manure.
By Merry Adams5 years ago in Fiction
A Bloody Waitress
I was 19 and my heart had shattered into teeny snippets of painful debris. I had been surprisingly (for me) dumped for a childhood friend of his with whom he had begun playing amateur tennis. After spending days in bed recalling too many gloomy visuals and decimating an entire jungle with my tissue use, I convinced myself the answer to heartache was to segue into a tennis champion. Not having access to a tennis court, tennis gear or the ability to retrieve back-court memories from years earlier, I decided the next best option was to become an enviable success. I needed to earn extra cash before University started anyways but reasoned supplemental riches might provide vague proof he was missing out. With stalker focus I asked his good friends if I could temporarily rent at theirs, and after receiving an awkward yes I moved in and started searching for that lust inducing job.
By Merry Adams5 years ago in Confessions
Serendipity Kills
It was only a small story at the back of the Wall Street Journal but it was still a title-bite that grabbed immediate attention. Investment Bankers had birthed a variety of badly behaved children, but stabbings were not generally part of the play book. I mentally flipped back to the day I first met Lucian…
By Merry Adams5 years ago in Humans
Serendipty Kills
It was only a small story at the back of the Wall Street Journal but it was still a title-bite that grabbed immediate attention. Investment Bankers had birthed a variety of badly behaved children, but stabbings were not generally part of the play book. I mentally flipped back to the day I first met Lucian…
By Merry Adams5 years ago in Humans
