Violet March
Bio
I am a Native American Writer just excited to share our stories with the world! you can connect me at [email protected], I would love to connect with you all and hear your feedback! Thank you for anything in advance! I hope you enjoy!! ❤
Stories (4)
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My mother's stories.
When I was a child, I would often look to the stars every night. I lived on my reservation, far, far north. I would often see the northern lights shine just beyond the horizon, where the sky meets always white-covered mountains. The vibrant violet and ember green would reflect off that crystal pelt so wonderfully. I was only a child then and wasn’t fully sure how to describe such a beauty. I would often go running to my mom whenever I see that first hit of green and violet hit my ceiling from out my window. Bouncing up and down in excitement about the prospect of seeing what awaits me far off in the distance, and having the chance to view it with her. She would come every single time, no matter how late it was, just to spend that extra few moments of precious time together. I would lay there wake each clear winter night, each noisy spring evening, every gentle autumn dawn, and every blazing summer twilight in hopes that those enchanting dancing lights would come again and fill my sight with such a beautiful view, and my body with such a loving embrace from the women I love the most, my mother.
By Violet March5 years ago in Families
The Pale White House With a Red Brimmed Door.
When I was younger, I lived on my reservation. It was just on an offshoot of it less than a quarter of a mile away from some white town called Cutbank. As a child, I couldn’t really distinguish the difference between the two but I’m sure any adult from Cutbank could, and did. It was nice though, a lot of what I can remember at least. Going back to visit now is always strange seeing just how much things have changed for better and worse. I used to live in this house in the center of the offshoot called Seville. It wasn’t a very big place at all, Probably no more than 40 houses making up this area. It is some strange cul-de-sac-like place with an island in the middle with houses shooting out. I lived there, on the island, in the center of it all. It was like I was the sun of this little solar system. Just across the street, and I mean directly across, is what always had my mind in a bind.
By Violet March5 years ago in Fiction
