Sarah Danaher
Bio
I enjoy writing for fun. I like to write for several genres including fantasy, poetry, and dystopian, but I am open to trying other genres too. It has been a source of stress relief from my busy life.
Stories (247)
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The Voyage
Only if this storm would stop, Abigale thought to herself. The ship rocked as the night rolled. The waves could be felt, but being under deck, it was too difficult to tell. I did not want The treacherous journey, but this was the key to freedom. Only her prayers as the sailors seem to be slacking on keeping the route without so many storms. So many nights sleeping and others just in the filth of everyone around you. The vomit smell was not even an irritant since everyone was already sick by the first month. The small space and staying under was dark with the escarpments in pots. In better weather, the unfortunate sailor would throw them into the ocean. This day was supposed to be when I would have some fresh air on the deck, but the lightning started. I came to see a new world and not be bogged down by the lack of freedom of the old. Yet the trip has moans and groans. The small space down here has been quite a feat. The cramps and the weather could have been so much better.
By Sarah Danaherabout a year ago in Fiction
A Small Act of Kindness
As we age, things become more complex. We can only see our ability to do so many things. A young family had moved next and had taken care of the more arduous chores. In the day, I was capable and raised my kids, but age got ahold of me. I used to be able to keep up with everything, but my husband is not doing so well either. The maintenance of things is only getting more complicated. At least we have neighborly help. The neighbor is a much younger man and will mow the lawn when he does his lawn. It is a significant help with my husband’s heart problems that the more physical work was not safe. Time can be so cruel when things start to change. I was young and agile, but now I can hardly move with the condition.
By Sarah Danaherabout a year ago in Psyche
Ultra Max
Never said he was enough to make it. He tried to be strong but was smaller than the other kids. Jeffery wanted to grow up strong, and as he grew, he became more robust. He saw others picked on and wanted to stop the town's bullies. Jeffery worked out and started to notice the bosses ruling the streets. He began to grab the members of the gangs and stop the criminals. Jeffery Sagen just wanted to prevent those from being harassed. The street gangs started to hunt such a hero. Jeffery began to call himself Ultra Max. As he had no superpowers, only his fighting skills would have to do. He was not invincible by any means and even walked out of fights bruised and beaten. As the gangs began to become stronger, tracking him became more manageable. Jeff had to even make himself stronger with armor and weapons. Even now, the crime was being cleaned up, and the gangs had trouble stopping him. As Ultra Max became popular, the cops seemed to look the other way. As the more significant organizations were looking to destroy him. Many gangs joined together to trap Ultra Max. Crime only wanted their way in the city if they could escape their fiend. Somehow, his reasoning figured out their plot and got them all caught. Wits and methods were his means, as wearing his suit, cape, and mask kept his identity, but for how long. Ultra Max will be protecting the streets till he can be stopped.
By Sarah Danaherabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mimer
Jacques Auclair was told to be silent from childhood. His family in France was quiet. He learned to use his mind. All ignored him throughout his life, leaving him to act out his anger. As he grew older, he became a mime and mimicked his peers and others. They all just wanted him to be silent and compliant. He was rather funny at first as he painted his face. As he realized his powers, he silently avenged those who hurt him. That was insufficient, and society had to pay for his unspoken pain. He wanted them to feel the box they had put him in his entire life. As his anger grew, he created invisible walls and boxes trapping those he felt hurt others. His voice was not needed but what his imagination could create. He could even silence them without them knowing it. Feeling inferior was his experience in life. The life he wanted never mattered, and gaining his powers from a simple lightning strike gave him his dream. He let his disappointment and criticism make him pure evil. Anger destroyed him to become the worst of humanity. His painted face, striped shirt, and small body did not look menacing. No one saw him coming or expected to be yanked by his invisible rope. His reputation was renowned for his practices of suffering. His life started in silence, and he will destroy everything by silence. Only empathy could turn him from evil. He wanted to be seen and heard even if he did not speak. He lived quietly, but no one could predict his next move. His thoughts were only for him. All for the power of pain just to hurt others yet never to be satisfied. His wrath blinds him from his weakness. He was called The Mimer.
By Sarah Danaherabout a year ago in Fiction
