Shelby R Perez
Bio
I am a college student and lover/writer of fiction and poetry, especially Fairytails and mythology. I am working to become a published author, using my love for myths and legends to reintroduce gods, spirits, demons and heroes.
Stories (20)
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Blood and Tobacco. Content Warning.
I never liked Dana’s boyfriend. For one, I first met him after returning from abroad only to see my friend being held by him like a boa constrictor, and he was older, much older. The man was at least twenty nine and she was only eighteen. She had technically been an adult for a good ten months by now but still too young to be dating a man a decade older than her. What made it worse was when I found out they had been dating two months before her birthday. This man was hanging out with a kid and thought it was okay?! I tried to tell her that he was bad but she brushed me off, explaining he had always been a gentleman. When she told me his name I quickly forgot it! All I needed to know was he was a pervert and a predator. I only ever referred to him as her “boyfriend” or “that guy” or “that weirdo,” much to Dana’s annoyance.
By Shelby R Perez9 months ago in Fiction
I May be the Villain but I’m Not a Whore. Content Warning.
The Fox was a notorious villain. Cunning as she was beautiful. Fierce as she was mysterious. Her crimes were sporadic and seemed almost random. Once it was robbing a bank, yet once cornered she had thrown the bag to floor before vanishing in a cloud of smoke. Next was kidnapping and ransom for a child or spouse. Few were found, unharmed but their faces showed such sorrow and fear. The rest simply vanished and the money if paid was gone. And then, the deaths of many. Some men. Some women. No relation. The most mysterious was how no one new her real face. Being a shapeshifter, that was a given.
By Shelby R Perezabout a year ago in Fiction
Sanctuary in Snow
The snow appeared more gray than white. The shadow of trees and the twisting thorns didn’t help. Icicles hung from branches and thorns like jewelry. It would have been a beautiful sight, if only I had not seen the foliage beside the road and blocking my path ever since I had lost my footing along with the trail. Like creepers, the vines seemed to coil closer. Some had even formed a wall like structure as high as my ankle. Stepping over them was easy enough but I had grown weary from the ominous thorns.
By Shelby R Perez2 years ago in Fiction
Weeping Willow
In the city of Trichonida, there lived a young woman who was called Willow. Her family were not rich but they were happy with what little they had. Their house was just big enough for the three of them and surrounded by flowers, Willow and her mother would weave into wreaths to sell at the market while her father sold their vegetables. Every day Willow would walk to the bank with two buckets to collect water and relax on the wet grass, if the day wasn’t too hot and every day she would water each vegetable and flower with care with one bucket and use the other bucket to drink and make stew for herself and her parents.
By Shelby R Perez2 years ago in Fiction
