Noelle Spaulding
Bio
I was once called a ‘story warrior’ by a teacher in film school, because of how passionately I prioritized the story over all other aspects.
I believe good stories inspire the best of us, and we need them now more than ever.
Stories (24)
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Living Beyond
If there’s one thing I’m going to miss about Mars, it’s the sunrise. The Red Planet, as it’s been known through human history, glows brightest first thing in the morning. The stark clean white inside the compounds actually dulls in comparison. Call me biased, but nothing on Earth could possibly compare. I guess I’ll find out.
By Noelle Spaulding about a year ago in Futurism
A Wild Canasta
Have you ever played Canasta? It calls for at least four players, multiple decks of cards, and all players to be completely dialled in. There is a list of hands that have to be played in order to win. Each card is worth its' number in points. In order to complete a red canasta you must play seven of a kind together; this hand is preferred over the black canasta, which is completed with wild cards. The highest valued canasta, however, is the wild canasta: All cards are either twos or jokers. It is an extremely random hand, because the assorted decks have varying facets.
By Noelle Spaulding 2 years ago in Families
Centerfield
September, 2019: Commonwealth Stadium is minimalist: Grey and concrete, lined with typical concession stands, and occasional pops of green and gold. Little has changed in its forty years, with the exception of a few technological aspects. The menus at the concessions are digital, and they have little TVs that display the current game so those out of their seats miss nothing. I’m still getting used to the new jumbo-tron, but my Dad boasts about remembering games from before they installed the first one. But, of course, he also remembers the stadium being constructed. I’ll never get to reminisce about what Commonwealth was like in the eighties, but I grew up in it just like he did. I savour the smell of spilled liquor, the taste of overpriced hot dogs, and, lately, obey the siren call of “Cooold beerrr!”
By Noelle Spaulding 2 years ago in Chapters
The Girlhood Era
Last summer, we thought things had changed. The highest grossing film of the year was Barbie, a satire that spat cold hard facts about the reality of being a woman. It also celebrated all that is good and beautiful about girlhood, and Greta Gerwig appeared to shatter at least a layer of the glass ceiling for women in cinema by being the highest earning female director.
By Noelle Spaulding 2 years ago in Humans
Share A Slice With Me
My Dearest Elizabeth, I hope this letter finds you well. Now what? Wasn't that too obvious? Of course he wished her well, obviously Elizabeth knew that; but "my dearest?" He'd never called her that before. Come to think of it, the first and only time he ever called her "Elizabeth" was when he finally had to say goodbye. Was he stepping too far too fast? John crumpled the paper and threw it over his shoulder. He missed the wastebasket, but didn't notice. He knew what he was trying to say, but the words just wouldn't come. He'd never done this before. What was he supposed to say? He smoothed out a fresh piece of paper.
By Noelle Spaulding 4 years ago in Fiction
A Haunt of Love and Longing
Come one, come all. Come tall, come small. Come young, come old. These words of welcome were heard all the time when I was young. The whole farm was young for that matter. The big house was a pretty pastel blue, and wildflowers grew around her. I remember the gleaming gold of corn on summer days, and the cows mooing like yesterday's music. I stood face to face with the apple orchard lining the pathway, and in my bright red coat I gave the brightest welcome you’d ever seen. No one ever left us unhappy or empty handed in those days. We had so much to offer, and our peaceful, colorful corner of the world was exactly what people needed in those days.
By Noelle Spaulding 5 years ago in Fiction
What I Found in the Rubble
The meek have inherited the earth. When all the superpowers collapsed themselves there was no one left to deprive us of it. Although they didn't exactly leave a paradise; all the comforts of the modern age went with them. Some people blame the Americans. Others blame the Koreans and the Chinese. Others blame various countries of the Middle East, and still others blame Russia. It doesn't matter now; none of those countries exist anymore. As far as I know, there are no countries whatsoever anymore. The people at the controls might've discriminated, but nuclear fire was more indifferent: It took out everyone, and everything that was on the surface. There was no sign, no warning, no time to intentionally duck and cover. Only those of us who happened to be underground at the time survived the impact, but only a fraction weren't crushed by debris, inevitably starved, or succumbed to oxygen deprivation.
By Noelle Spaulding 5 years ago in Fiction
