Steph Ruff
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Achievements (1)
Stories (50)
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The Sound of Autumn
Wings flutter, small fingers pulling on a single purple leaf. A swarm of black feathers and a call break the silence, the crow missed its target, yet the leaf is now free. It falls, the fingers still gripping tight, as crystalline wings begin to crinkle, and skin begins to fade, the leaf turns from purple to red as its jailbreaker melts away. The forest floor is a hush of falling leaves, as one more is added. The crinkle of footsteps isn't the dying leaves, but the bones of faeries who set them free.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Fiction
Being the "Dad Friend"
I am what is considered a "dad friend," a title I take extremely seriously. Calling someone a "dad friend" seems like something benign, of no actual consequence to anyone's life, but it's not as simple as it sounds. Being the "dad friend" doesn't mean just being parental and laid back, or just the opposite of the constantly prepared and worried "mom friend." Being a "dad friend" requires encompassing all the components of being a dad without actually being one.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Families
Dreaming of Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. That’s what everybody says anyway, but I always remember there being dragons. They would roam in the darkness, their teeth protruding from their mouths, too long to fit inside, and their eyes soulless. Nothing but black pupils, dark and unblinking. Nera is constantly chittering in my ear about how amazing the dragons are, with their venomous glands, talons stronger than diamonds, wings razor sharp and all that. I don’t really get what she sees in them, I mean, they are horrifying and weird which technically makes them very amazing but they are also the main reason I haven’t slept in three days and am not paying attention.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Dear Mom, . Runner-Up in Mother's Day Confessions Challenge.
Dear Mom, This letter is probably way overdue but its hard to tell you all the things I want to without being scared of what you will say. The depression was hard, and I know you blame yourself for it, but we talked and I confided and you accepted that part of me; the dark parts full of depravity and loss and hatred. I know you feel it too, even if you pretend that you don't, I see it in the little comments you make, the gestures that are slow and uncoordinated, your gaze blank with the screams of millions of pieces of yourself shattering every time I, someone, screamed "I hate you!"
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Confessions
