Rachel Nicole Smith
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Stories (2)
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Green Eyes
How would you define time? One minute for a person who counting it down, watching it from 59, and disappearing to zero, could feel like forever. One minute for someone who’s not paying attention could feel like the minute never even existed. A physicist would look at the time and see an equation, or a writer would look at time as a story.
By Rachel Nicole Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Clementine And A Purple Box
Clementine Jordan woke up in a familiar room, on a familiar bed, with a familiar balcony, and familar cravings, needs, and sorrow. Slowly opening her dark brown eyes, and found herself gazing up at a plain white ceiling. She wasn't curious, and she knew what had happened. Her arms and legs trembling at the thought of looking at him again, she turned her head to reveal a dead body that she had been laying beside for the night. She noticed the smell of fresh bread from the bakery downstairs that her apartment laid over in France. Every Sunday a man she loved once would visit Lacroix Patisser to catch up at breakfast with a cheese bagel and tea. His hand would touch hers to catch her attention, and his eyes were warm honey, and often locked into hers from afar, a magnetic attraction, which somehow felt like a coincidence but at some moments, with his eyes on hers, she wondered if that was possible, she wondered if he had ever looked at anyone like this before. Was his hand friendly touch? His smile, and his laugh. The creases in his cheeks and the shape of his jaw. His neck and arms, hands and height, she admired and daydreamed forever into infinity about him. But, there he lay, cold and dead, and shot in the back.
By Rachel Nicole Smith4 years ago in Horror
