STELLA STRICKLAND
Bio
I signed up for Vocal last year but never touched it, but here I am (nearly a year later!) giving it a go for real this time. This will be updated properly when I have a better understanding of Vocal's platform.
Stories (2)
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Transported.
Journey wasn’t sure how long she and her mother had been driving. She watched the sky turn from blue to black, the fields of crops flanking the road had been traded for thick trees that blocked any view within their depths. Journey shifted in the backseat that seemed to swallow her whole. The seat belt of the old car was digging into her neck. She was tired and hungry, the long drive was hard for anyone, especially a four year old who had abruptly been forced out of her home. “Mummy?” she moaned anxiously, “Are we there yet? I’m tired and hungry.”
By STELLA STRICKLAND3 years ago in Fiction
The girl on the TV.
Across the room, Sunshine stood proudly. Her hair was dark brown, falling just below her shoulders in messy waves. She wore a flowy dress with loud, obnoxious patterns that looked hand sewn together. It was the type of dress you’d see on the back clearance rack in a thrift store that no one wanted. As ugly as the dress was, it complimented the woman greatly. There was folk music playing in the distant room and Sunshine was lulling the melody while she swayed back and forth in front of the small kitchen sink. The dishes clanked in the ceramic bowl; it was the only noise that distracted her from the music until a child’s laughter came bellowing into the kitchen.
By STELLA STRICKLAND3 years ago in Fiction
