Willow Seitz
Bio
W.D. Seitz is a fantasy and science fiction author. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys painting in watercolour, riding her motorcycle and watching Avatar the Last Airbender.
Stories (12)
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An Ocean Apart
I decided to visit the aquarium today. There’s nobody here but me. I don’t have many friends, and the friends I do have were either working, in class, or simply too busy to show up. But that’s okay—I like being alone sometimes. It gives me time to think; a space to breathe.
By Willow Seitz3 years ago in Fiction
Doogie And The Rumble Strips. Runner-Up in 24/7 Companion Challenge.
Your mother was a wild thing. She was beautiful, with silky hair the colour of honey, and eyes like glacier silt. We couldn’t tame her, and I loved her for it. When she ran, her ears folded against her head aerodynamically, and the wind whispered through her fur, almost lifting her from the ground. She was made for the forest, the mountains, the hunt. When she left us, I saw her in your lean body. I watched you jump up the embankment to our house, and for a moment, I was blinded by the ghost of her.
By Willow Seitz3 years ago in Petlife
Come, Shadow Soul!
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was warm, I remember—near the end of summer, approaching thirty-one degrees. I was sweating in my sheets, not yet climatized to the blistering lowlands of Nepal. While I tossed and turned, the other orphans snored, dead to the world. Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn’t the heat keeping me awake—it could have also been the bed. The others had high-raised bunks with cotton blankets. I slept on a cot on the ground. One of the American volunteers fetched it from the attic the day I arrived, and the straw inside was so coarse, it left red imprints scattered down my shoulder blades.
By Willow Seitz4 years ago in Fiction
Draconic Plague
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. In fact, three days ago, there wasn’t even a valley. I’m standing in the middle of Queens Boulevard, a bottle of pepper spray clenched in one white-knuckled fist. In front of me is a toppled over traffic light, a yellow taxi with its rear end jutting out from a grassy foothill, and a twenty-foot tall lizard with wings. Or I guess you could call it a dragon, if you’re into that kind of thing. Personally, I’m having a real hard time coming to terms with the Game of Thrones episode I’ve stumbled into. And I’ve never even watched that show. TV just isn’t my thing; my job keeps me so busy I can’t relax. Whenever I am able to relax, I’ll curl up in the bath and read a couple chapters of the newest spicy rom-com my friend Kylie recommended. Now that I’ve been unemployed for three days, you would think I’d have time to watch a couple episodes of something, but instead I’m pepper spraying a dragon. Yep, that’s me, Hannah Garcia—the very definition of relaxed.
By Willow Seitz4 years ago in Fiction
The Face Shop
1 Wallace Browning was a rather pathetic man. He was twenty four and disappointing. The year was 1937 and everyone was becoming doctors, except for Wallace, who worked as a dishwasher at an old burger joint called “Patty’s Smokehouse” on the edge of town (which was bound to go out of business, soon.) Even his hair, a brown mess that flopped over his eyes, was useless. He was thin and incredibly average. His lips were chapped and pursed in a constant scowl. Surely no girl would ever think of kissing him.
By Willow Seitz4 years ago in Fiction
