Rachel Hannah Fendrich
Bio
Veterinary technician, godmother, cat mom, and world traveler.
Stories (8)
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The Train to Kuranda. Top Story - February 2024.
It was time to emerge from the belly of Buda-dji. He had come to Buda-dji from a burning land, where nothing but flame, scorched earth, and charred brush lingered. The dry air had choked on smoke and haze. Ash had rained down from the heavens, dusting the burnt remains that littered the ground with a cinereous burial shroud.
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich2 years ago in Fiction
The Art of Becoming My Father
My father gifted me my russet eyes and my olive Ashkenazi skin. He cursed me with idiopathic kidney disease and curved optic nerves. We share the same personality traits, the same likes, the same dislikes. I mirror his idiosyncrasies in everything I do…for the most part. Unfortunately, I did not manage to inherit the trait that I admire most in my father.
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich2 years ago in Writers
A Confrontation in an Alleyway
The frozen rain beat down on Alex’s back as he trudged through the dank alley. His black hair had lost its volume and had taken on the appearance of an overused dishrag, flopping down on his head, long and stringy. He was soaked to the skin, though he was unsure whether it was with sweat, precipitation, or both. His body, usually proudly and defiantly erect, was hunched over, his turquoise eyes piercing through the downpour to the ruins of the once great city that towered around him.
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich2 years ago in Criminal
The Fight
He paced anxiously in the bed of the truck as it snaked its way around the trees. The bitter winter wind nipped at his scars and swirled in his nostrils, feeding his excitement. An orange glow cut through the trees and illuminated the silhouette of the barn against the dusky, frosted landscape. The dirt road was slick, muddied under the speckles of fresh snow, but the tires carved into the path with confidence. They knew the way. This was not their first time here.
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich5 years ago in Fiction
San Salvador
San Salvador, The Bahamas—a tiny strip of land southeast of Nassau. There is one road that snakes around the island, one lane each way, encircling the uninhabitable marsh inland. The coastal regions consist mainly of small settlements that at the time totaled a population of less than 1,000. The nearest medical facility is hours away on a different island. Cockburn Town boasts the international airport on the island, but there is only one international flight in and out, a charter plane that flies directly from France to the island specifically for access to the Club Med resort, a relatively new addition at the time of my visit. The only other flights are island hoppers, mostly from Nassau, and the airport reflects that—the nearest bathroom is located in the bar across the street.
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich5 years ago in Wander
E Flat
He was surrounded by notes, and they were taunting him. Dozens of lined pages were strewn haphazardly around him, ensnaring Abraham in a tight circle of accusation. The quarter notes were now eyes, black as death and unforgiving, never shifting their gaze away from him. The eighth notes had twisted into sneers, the sixteenth notes snarls, with the white space between the beams shape-shifting into bared teeth. And the whole notes opened wide, screaming at him, bellowing, “Why aren’t we good enough?”
By Rachel Hannah Fendrich5 years ago in Fiction
