Savannah K. Wilson
Bio
She/Her | Australian 🏳️⚧️ Author
Queer and all class with a touch of sass! (or maybe the reverse!)
short stories, poetry, life experience
Achievements (1)
Stories (206)
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Kismet
Brett was sitting on the old and worn couch in his apartment, drinking a cup of tea from his favourite mug, a Jurassic Park logo with “Tea-Rex” across it. The news was the normal cycle of garbage; wars that shouldn’t be happening, terrifying politicians somehow still with a chance, domestic violence on the rise, and then coverage of a teen girl becoming viral for doing something suggestive in an online interview … which seems about right for the world now.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
Endurant. Top Story - August 2024.
Falling … falling from a great height is the first memory I have. Followed by waking up to see my chest burst open on a rock, the rough stone covered in strange ancient markings. My legs shattered and limp, and blood gushed all around me. I looked up and saw a face high above, I don’t remember who it was. Just the smile as they looked down on me.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Faery in the Window
The moon was brighter than I thought. It shone right through the closed curtains of my room, illuminating them and my room brightly. My eyes struggled to adjust to the glow of the bedroom, as if the lights had been flicked on without warning. Dazed I searched for the source of what woke me, there had been a noise …
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Pride
Zealous Secrets
The room had that musty smell of older people. The odour wafted across the space. Not exactly the smell of death, but somehow close enough. Shelves of books covered the walls and there were no gaps between them. Soft seats were scattered randomly around the old room, each one atop an old ragged rug. Browned newspapers and pages full of notes coated the old oak desk near the large glass french doors that lead to the estate gardens. The glass of the doors was coated by years of unwashed dust one could barely see through to the footpath just next to the doors. The study was bound to hold many secrets, but not the one anyone that followed Adam here would search for. The stacks of rotten paper and books gave off such a pungent odour, Adam wanted to leave now … but knew the chase was not over yet.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
Whose shoes are those?
There was a pair of old sneakers by the front door as I arrived home. I should have taken more notice of them ... They didn't belong to Claire, or to me, we don't leave shoes by the door, I thought. Entering our little house, I noticed the door opened easier than it should. We had learned in our time here the door needed a little extra push to shut properly. We had grown to love our little house's quirks like that, I gave the door the little shove it needed to close as I called out.
By Savannah K. Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
