S.N. Evans
Bio
Christian, Writer of Fiction and Fantasy; human. I have been turning Caffeine into Words since 2007. If you enjoy my work, please consider liking, following, reposting on Social Media, or tipping. <3
God Bless!
Stories (78)
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Herald of Winter's Chill
Eira Astair, a bard by trade, stood outside the Alabaster Arrow, pouting. Her performance had not gone as planned, but it was far from the worst she had ever given. She took solace in that, breathing deep the chill night air. Drifts of fresh-fallen snow blew gently in the light wind. Eira was at home in the icy chill of newly fallen snow. A winter spirit, the cold did not bother her like other mortals. Holding her hand to catch a few flakes, they didn’t melt. The cold was why she ventured to Illux City in the first place. It was mesmerizing this time of year, with its towers covered in glittering frost and ice. Walking with her lute in hand, she begins plucking a few strings.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Ready for Winter to End
Snow and ice as far as the eye can see, patches of street indiscernible from road or yard. A thin glaze of ice, snow packed firm, conditions in which no one should venture forth. Fluffy drifts of snow danced upon the wicked wind. Severe gusts that cut like knives straight to the bone. Frost-nipped fingers and bitten toes. Noses and cheeks red from winter’s burn. Pale gray clouds blot out the sun—dull, achy fingers, joints, and feet inside, where heaters and furnaces struggle to keep pace.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Delicate Ice Crystals
Fluffy ice crystals adorn her glossy black hair like shimmering diamonds and settle upon her eyelashes. Apple-bright windburned cheeks and nose accentuated her pale skin. Large crystal-blue eyes assess the frigid snow drifts and unmistakable ice spires with a sculptor's eye. Beside her, in the snow, lay her bag of tools for her magic. Pacing around a sizable ice pillar created by a frozen trickle of water draining from a nearby cliff, she imagined what might lay inside the ice. Reaching into her bag, she removed an ice chisel and began marking the ice. She had to break it gently, or the solid ice would crack, spoiling its possibility.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
#200 Future Plans
I did not plan on returning to Vocal this year (2024). I stopped regularly posting for various reasons in 2023, among them being mental health complications and frustration with my progress on the platform. I felt jaded. No matter what I did, I could not generate new views. I only had a handful of followers and expected to garner at least passive views, but that has yet to happen. My followers are likely friends and family members who have accepted the request because they know and love me rather than want to read my work.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Journal
Why and How do we Study the Bible?
Why study the Bible? As a believer in Christ, studying the Bible is essential. God reveals his character and will to us through His Word. Every passage of the Bible reveals God's divine nature and intentions for mankind. It is eternal food and water which satiates our soul. Studying the Word hones our discernment and guards us against false teachings. But how might we do it? Studying the Bible feels like a daunting task. The Bible has 66 books broken into two major sections: the Old Testament (39) and the New Testament (27.) There are many online resources on how to split these up into more manageable pieces. But the point of this article is to explain the approach that works best for me and is not a one-size-fits-all approach. I encourage you to explore as many approaches as you like so long as their teaching is Biblically sound.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Families
The Lion, the Witch, and the Writing Schedule
Beginning to write on Vocal Media again has stirred up a whirlwind of creativity and emotions. It has been a long time since I have been active on this platform. Primarily due to life changes and fluctuations in mental health that I will not dive into the details of here. But, after much consideration and prayer, I decided to become active again. Writing on this platform keeps me motivated and accountable for creating content, and it’s one of the things I love about Vocal. I also love the community; everyone supports each other and understands that being a benign writer is challenging, regardless of the content written.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Journal
“Rock of Ages” Hope in the Storm
“God help me, please; I don’t know what to do.” That's my prayer right now: to cry out in my affliction and anguish to the only one who understands and can help. I don’t know the future, but I know he is in control. Though my battery is leaking energy, my mind unfocused, and my corpulent body… He knows how to help me. That’s all I have. I bring nothing of value to my life, only disobedience and misery of my own making. I feel so stupid sometimes, and then I’m struck by the knowledge that God has considered my stupidity, so I needn’t worry.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Longevity
“Start your story in the middle of the action" A glance into my scene writing process with the scene written at the end.
Like taking a whetstone to a blade keeps the edge keen, practicing writing helps keep us sharp. So, I have decided to practice with prompts. I find them here, there, and everywhere. Some of them I write myself and others I pull from neverending sources of inspiration such as Reedsy Prompts. I gather a handful of prompts I like per week and decide to write one or two as time permits, always striving for at least one. Now, for the process!
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Journal
Dissonant Sorrows (Reedsy Contest #189)
(Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen, “The Little Match Girl”) It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. The bitter winter wind sliced through her and siphoned the air from her lungs. Her winter clothes were a little barrier between the buffeting wind, and her exposed skin felt raw and scraped. So why was she out here? Was she running from sorrow, apathy, or obligations more? Now that her family had arrived, her burden increased, and it was the force chasing her into the cold. Approaching the familiar nearby forest, the copse of trees looked like tall, spindly, gossipy women shrouded in thick blankets of ice and snow. Yet, she knew somewhere within the bosom of that treeline was a sanctuary untouched by ice or snow. A space where the boughs refused to yield to harsh elements. If she could locate the safe haven of her youth, it might lend her the strength to face the coming days after her grandmother’s passing. It had been scarce longer than an hour, and she already found herself weary of her family’s company.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Cerulean Apprentices
Biz sat upon the rock, licking her paws and preening herself beneath the warm, fabricated blue light of the cavern known as Trayvan’s Playground. Two of her three eyes were closed, and Biz trained the other upon her twin brother Vis. Vis was a katryx like her, a perfect amalgam of leopard, deer, and magic. As she relaxed, her ears twitched toward the sound of movement; Vis rose, stretched, and began pacing. As he did so, his split tail twitched from side to side, and his ears laid back; he was annoyed.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
