Morgan Rhianna Bland
Bio
I'm an aroace brain AVM survivor from Tennessee. My illness left me unable to live a normal life with a normal job, so I write stories to earn money.
Stories (130)
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Walls of Death and Time: part 1
If walls could talk, would anyone really listen? If my experience is anything to go by, the answer is no. The Lilah Thorne Theater hasn’t changed much in the past century. The technology has been updated to keep up with the times, but the design looks the same as it did 100 years ago. Same gold wallpaper, same plush red carpet, same crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The only notable change is the name. In my day, the theater was called the Hyperion. A change in name came with a change in ownership in the 60s. It became the Bellarosa then, a name which the theater kept for over 50 years. Just last year, it was renamed again, this time the Lilah Thorne after a young actress who died mysteriously in 1921. They said the name was meant to right a wrong committed long ago. Little do they know that their misguided gesture only added to the wrongs.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland3 years ago in Fiction
A Laptop of Lies
As long as I could remember, it was my mom and me against the world. All her other family was either dead or estranged, and I never knew my dad. She didn’t like talking about him. Whenever I asked, she’d get this uncomfortable look in her eyes. She said she didn’t know the guy; it was a one night stand. The only other thing she’d tell me was that I had his eyes. Then she’d quickly change the subject by distracting me with a snack or a fun activity. Eventually I stopped asking about my dad, but that didn’t stop me from imagining who he might be. Each version was more awful than the last… drunk, thief, murderer. Whoever he was, he had to have done something horrible if Mom couldn’t bear to talk about him. Little did I know, the truth was stranger than fiction.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland3 years ago in Fiction
The Voiceless: part 1
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She awoke with no idea how she got here and only fragmented memories of her prior life, but she didn’t have to remember the outside world to know she wanted no part of it. A small sliver of sunlight shone through the window, illuminating one corner of the room where she lay. She rolled onto her side in the stuff metal cot, turning away from the light. The light was bad… She didn’t know how or why; she just knew.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland3 years ago in Fiction
