Rachael MacDonald
Bio
Avid Reader, Sometimes Poet, Occasional Writer, and searcher of truths often lost in the breaths between candy-coated lies.
Stories (83)
Filter by community
The Blue Box
A short high-pitched beep echoed through the cool mountain air. Inside, Marnie startled awake, heart hammering inside her chest like a caged bird. Blinking twice she scanned the darkened bedroom for movement, her eyes coming to rest on her door set slightly ajar. Oh right, the cabin. Light poured in from the hallway waking her senses more.
By Rachael MacDonald3 years ago in Fiction
Cassiopeia
“Hurry,” Cass screamed as she soared through the darkened sky. “Higher, Gabe, they can still see you.” Pumping her wings as hard as she could go, Cass prayed silently to the Gods to make it. Up this high, the storm was roaring in full force, the swirling wind pelting her hide with ice crystals as she inched higher yet.
By Rachael MacDonald3 years ago in Fiction
Little Egg
It was a crisp autumn morning when Mayar first set out at dawn. Careful to tiptoe past her sleeping family, she moved to extricate herself from the cave. Today was the day she would reach the peak of Mount Diamor. She had been pleading with her mom for months to let her try to summit the grey monster that shadowed them just west of the valley. Too small, her mother had told her; too young, her father echoed. Mayar, known to her family as May, knew these things to be true, but she also knew that she had the will to succeed, the gut determination to never give up. She would show them that she was brave and powerful and worthy of the humans’ awe but most importantly fear.
By Rachael MacDonald3 years ago in Fiction
Za
Stop me if you have heard this one before. Hawaiian pizza is the best pizza. Either you are nodding your head in agreement right now or seething with fury. Am I right? Now listen, those people, those die hard pineapple defenders are absolute, one hundred percent wrong. Ok, now don’t you leave me head nodders; hear me out. What I am about to say will change your life. Cavoletti pizza is the game-changer. It’s the type of warm hug your body needs on a rainy day; It's the salty, crispy crust you deserve after a day’s swim in the lake. It's ooey; it's gooey, its cavoletti baby.
By Rachael MacDonald4 years ago in Feast
Bert
I was six years old when I met Bert. I was eleven when my mom and him were married. I was thirty when he died. Four years have passed, yet still, when I think about him too hard, a deep-seated ache that I assumed would lessen over time returns. He was my dad. He was my nail painter, grilled cheese and soup when I was sick maker, and my take your daughter to work day date. I loved him. I still do.
By Rachael MacDonald4 years ago in Families
Blades and Blooms
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Yesterday there were none. Up until this morning, the land in the Valley was forever brown. The air was thick with yellowish smoke choking the spindly trees barren of leaves but covered in thick ashen bark. Clouds blanketed the sky never allowing a single ray of sunshine to escape in all of the years of Bronwyn's life, sixteen years of perpetual grey, never showcasing the warmth of the summer sun or the sparkling crescent moon.
By Rachael MacDonald4 years ago in Fiction
