Shequinah Nanshanapa
Bio
Writer of fiction, of lives lived and imagined. For those interested in entertaining a conversation and sharing ideas, you can reach me here:
IG: @Lanansha | FB: Rayanh Shequinah Nansha
Stories (12)
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Transformation
In a world teeming with magic, where every childhood monster was known to exist, humans could only rely on one of two things to survive. Most common was hiding. While those who hid could endure the worst of life and make it to the other side, those who followed their instincts were often transformed beyond recognition. This was especially true for those who were hungry for knowledge. Those who researched and honed their minds for survival to be but a stepping stool toward a better future.
By Shequinah Nanshanapa9 months ago in Fiction
Princeling of Immortals
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The air turned crisp and frost draped trees. The boy saw then, the truth of the world. There was a breech. There. In the middle of the cluster of trees facing the street. Through it, beings unlike any other, crossed into the mortal realm, causing mayham to ensue. They were violent and scared, as though their own world had collapsed.
By Shequinah Nanshanapaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Origin of Fear
“Everything has an origin. From the order and civilization made of rules that humans regard as ethical laws of morality, to the emotions they believe they were born with. In truth, emotions originate from a set of beings. Deities who incarnated as Men in order to mingle with mankind. Upon their incarnation, they lost their sense of self, believed themselves to be mortals and gained the ability to live through countless life cycles. Through them, time was no longer linear and emotions were born. Without an end or a beginning, emotions and time together, simply existed. A mortal man once fathered such a being. He was a man born with nothing, who then turned nothing into everything and gave it to his sons. To those sons who had everything, he taught the value of hard work. Although he was not fond of such lessons, XORSAN, his oldest, turned everything he had been given into multitudes. When others looked at him, they were consumed by either admiration, envy or jealousy. That is, until every single one of his possessions was ripped away from him, leaving him with nothing but his name. As with wealth, XORSAN went through the hellish depths of loss and reached its peak. He had lost a father, brothers, a wife, sons, daughters and the riches he had accumulated over the years. Others would have understood if rage had consumed him then. If pain and misery had driven him to take his own life. He did not lament his fate. Instead, grief filed XORSAN inside and out. Until he was left with nothing but void. A howling nothingness. Something new was born inside him then. A thing that terrified his fellow man and brought low even those considered strong. XORSAN… He had become fear.”
By Shequinah Nanshanapaabout a year ago in Fiction
A Tale of Dragons and Faeries
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. A slew of faeries occupied it once. When I was a child, the children from the village and I always imagined faeries to be small and joyous creatures abled to grant our every desire. They would require nothing but a few hours of our time to play before granting us a wish. Our imagination couldn’t have been further from the truth.
By Shequinah Nanshanapa4 years ago in Fiction
PATRICIA
My mother, she was a strong woman. I didn’t think so when I was young. When I was young, my house was filled with the roaring presence of men. They inspired in me a stubborn sense of pride that made me eager and hungry to prove that I was as strong as they were. It wasn’t hard, when I was young. Boys and girls were similar in strength. Thus a girl could fight a boy and win, when we were young. I was a tomboy, when I was young. For three girls to be raised with six brothers, what else could one expect?
By Shequinah Nanshanapa5 years ago in Families
THE MYERS (1)
Despite his irritation, Beau couldn't help but admire the way his sister moved in decisive strides, ignoring the panic that shoved pedestrians into chaos in the plaza. He didn't need to keep his gaze focused on her to know where she was headed. Comfortably seated in the leather seats of his Maserati parked beside a row of stores and apartments, Beau frowned at the bullet lodged in his windshield before he glanced sideways at the woman who, in her hurry, tripped over the bleeding teenager on the ground. As if to reaffirm Beau in his general hatred for human nature, she didn't stop or slow down to see what she could do to help the youngster.
By Shequinah Nanshanapa5 years ago in Horror
Unbreak My Heart
There were days when Samira could not sleep through the night. She would leave the warmth of her bed to sit on the front porch of her house where nothing but the cool mid-summer air would welcome her. Fresh air that one could only come across in the wee hours of the day, before the bright colors of the rising sun left its mark in the sky. Unlike Jerry, she didn't have an athletic bone in her body. Jerry often claimed that he was envious of her ability to wake up so early in the morning. Although he exercised after he came home from a long day of work, he would often say that there was nothing better than a morning workout to properly start the day.
By Shequinah Nanshanapa5 years ago in Humans
