Stories (129)
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Carry Pride in your Heart (Micro-nonfiction)
My First Pride I will always remember my first Pride event. I went to one at the approximate age of 11/12. My identity at the time was confined to the pressures placed upon it by others. I was a straight ally, practicing Catholic with a growing curiosity for the LGBT+ community. Little did tiny WriterWoman know, she would grow up to be a proud member of the LGBT+ community. That was the start of my journey, my self-discovery.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Pride
The Dark Within the NEON
In hindsight, walking through the streets in the dead of night on Halloween was not the best idea. Not only did the cold slow my fingertips, prickling my nose and ears; it appeared to have discouraged the local population from braving its icy sting. There were very few, but enthusiastic, trick-or-treaters scattered about the road in front of me, dressed as a wide variety of scary creatures. 'Well, some were scarier than others', I had thought, when I saw the beachball-shaped blow-up pumpkin suit a small girl was happy playing in. Complete with a green stalk hat, she was delighting in running into nearby street sign poles and bouncing off, unharmed and giggling. Her half-smirking, half-terrified mother followed behind, in a tasteful witch’s hat.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Fiction
I Used to Dream about Him (Micro-nonfiction)
I used to dream about him. A tall, handsome stranger with strong arms to scoop me up into. He dressed smartly, smelled of cologne, wore a shiny watch and new shoes. He had a beard - always a beard. No matter how many times I imagined him over the years, in different outfits, with different body types. No matter how many times he changed - he always had a beard.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Pride
The Power of Words: Part 2
Chapter 2: The Nobleman’s Voice Leaping from my bed, I woke the next day with excitement. I had been fortified by the notion of a new voice. Silently, I hurried towards my father’s smiths and began my day, eager to display my new vocal skills.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Fiction
The Power of Words: Part One
Chapter One: The Witch I knew something was awry when a grand nobleman arrived in the village. There would be no reason for such a man to frequent the place other than marriage. There were several women in Fimblefoot who could make eligible brides. Young women of childbearing years which he would spend the first days in Fimblefoot pursuing categorically. It was no more than a week before Brigid caught his eye.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Fiction
The Power of Words: Prologue
The day I learned to never cheat a witch was, with great regret, the day after I agreed to make a deal with one. I was raised in Fimblefoot, a small village on the banks of a large, rough, river. My parents were among the first settlers there, using their skills to transform a thick density of forest into a settlement that overflowed with life, much like the river it was built around. Father was a stout blacksmith - all broad shoulders and no conversation, but with a sparkle of kindness dancing in his eyes. Mother occupied her time on the loom, making new clothes to replace my father’s singed fabrics. She was kind also, but far less concerned with keeping it to herself – no, mother’s kindness was open and inviting.
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Fiction
