ThatOne_Girl
Bio
I write anything from microfiction to novelettes, and they can be from songs, dreams, or poems. Fond of lyric poetry, fiction, recording memories, leaving my footprint in the dust of the writing world.
Stories (16)
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The Growl Only I Could Hear
My town was the sort where nothing happened. Law enforcement was bored, and as a result, parking tickets were pretty common. It was the sort of town where the only skatepark didn’t have anything more interesting than a half-pipe, and not more than six feet at that. It didn’t even have walls. And it was right across from a horse pasture, with an old folks’ home a block up and the elementary school a block down.
By ThatOne_Girlabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
May 21st
I am sitting on a wood fence. It is simple, a standard two-pole, two wide-spaced-slat affair made of roughly hewn, generally rectangular-shaped odds and ends of wood. It has been recently edited; the inexperienced, pale tan and peachy slats show where the new bits are. The rest is weathered and grey, splinter-less and with varying shades of lichen dotting its underside. I am sitting on a grey slat, my shorts a little too short to protect me from a splintery new piece.
By ThatOne_Girl4 months ago in Writers
POV. Content Warning.
You're sitting up late at night, scrolling online as you wait for a message from one of your contacts... You're the daughter of the Mafia king, and a high-level operative for him. Unfortunately that means you've come into contact fairly frequently with one of the hottest guys you've ever seen, but the problem is that he's your father's enemy despite his youth.
By ThatOne_Girl5 months ago in Fiction
Frenemies. Content Warning.
She smiled, her teeth glinting in the light of the single incandescent bulb hanging from the center of the cell’s ceiling. She stood just on the edge of the light, her hands in the pockets of her long black trench coat, just staring at me.
By ThatOne_Girl5 months ago in Fiction
Seasons
I shiver as I pull open the heavy glass door and step out onto the frost-riddled porch. My breath rises like smoke in the cold, and the rushing of the creek fills my ears. Nearby, as I walk toward the gate, I hear the beavers splash in alarm as they sense my presence. I bury my hands deep in the pockets of my thin hoodie, and hunch my shoulders up protectively against my ears. The cold air bites at my cheeks and nose, and the tips of my ears already hurt. It’s barely 30° out, and beneath my foolishly bare toes, the dead brown grass twinkles with frost. The sky is too overcast to see the stars there, but with so many ice-stars beneath my feet, I am satisfied.
By ThatOne_Girl2 years ago in Fiction
Pretty. Content Warning.
The red and blue lights of the ambulance fluttered dimly in the summer sunlight, the black asphalt of the highway the only dark tone amid the golden fields and bright blue sky. I was strangely conscious of the peaceful surroundings around the accident as I ran towards the crumpled Rav-4 on the side of the road. Flames licked the edges of the battered hood, and the dark figure slumped in the front seat was not moving. In the back of the car, mercifully intact, I saw two small hands slapping desperately in the windows. Susan reached the car before me, her lighter figure swifter than my more lumbering bulk. She jerked open the back door and unbuckled the child, scooping it out and setting the young girl on the ground as I set to work on the front door.
By ThatOne_Girl2 years ago in Fiction
