Natasha Avery
Bio
Just a black girl who fell in love with writing 🖤
Stories (3)
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That Night
That Night Red and blue lights have been flashing around my rental cabin for the past two hours. Voices and beeps come in and out of walkie-talkies and voices from outside answer back. I peek out back to the frozen pond and see nothing but chaos. Police walk back and forth from the pond to their cars. Rescue drivers are getting gear up to get into the frigid water. Two detectives are taking statements from a couple who were ice fishing out on the pond. It’s five in the evening in this small town in Maine. In the last two months since I've been here nothing interesting has happened. It’s usually quiet and uneventful. That is until tonight. All of sudden there’s even more commotion coming from outside.
By Natasha Avery4 years ago in Criminal
Do You Still Love Me?
Maya September 2nd has always been a special day for me and my husband, Jason. We first met back in 2013 on September 2nd. He walked into my flower shop, The Wild ‘N Beautiful Flower Shop. He walked in smiling. His red shirt glowed against his lightly melanated skin that had been sunkissed by the summer sun. He told me his mother’s birthday was the following day and what kind of flowers he should get her. I suggested an aster bouquet, the birth flower for September. He smiled and then asked me what my favorite flower was. I told him marigold, which is my birth month flower, October. He smiles telling me that might be his new favorite flower. That’s how our story began.
By Natasha Avery5 years ago in Fiction
Day 104
Day 1: May 31, 2045 It was a beautiful spring day it was the end of May when it happened. It seemed like a normal day, just like any other day. My mother, Alicia, and I were sitting outside on our wrap-around patio as I eagerly told her about my new job offer working at an art gallery I had accepted earlier that day when she just vanished like she was part of a Houdini magic trick. At first, I assumed she just got up and went to get our family dog as I excitedly talked her ear off as she did many times before. I called out for her a few times and all I heard back was our light brown toy poodle, Esmeralda who we called Essie, barking back at me. As I was heading for the front door to get her and to find my mother, I heard my best friend and neighbor, Hope Lacey, yelling my name as she was running towards me.
By Natasha Avery5 years ago in Fiction
