missfictionista's profile

When I was a small girl, my mother used to take us to the local YMCA to swim. We loved being in the water so much that when it came time to get out, we’d dunk our heads under just as she would begin to say my sister’s or my name. We figured if we didn’t hear her calling, we wouldn’t have to get out. That ploy always worked… for about ten minutes. Inevitably she would trick us, either by pretending to be gone when we came up for air, or by repeating our names so rapidly that when we came up fo...

Allieta went to her fifth audition with her fingers crossed, but held out little hope of landing a role. She had seen more than a dozen of these cold, impersonal rooms and had could no longer really tell any of the judges at these things apart. They could be the same five people over and over for all she knew. She scanned this particular group of casting judges, and noticed the typically stern looks on each face. They looked tired. The panel was comprised of five older, well-dressed, no-nonse...

I had wanted to tell her all these stories. Stories from my childhood, in the broken down brick church we lived behind, stories of those who had wandered in my life before it was complete, before she filled it. I wanted to weave long missives to her, while running my fingers through her hair. I gushed information, words bled from my mouth and tumbled towards her ears in the eagerness to be bathed in the light of her love and understanding. I had always been good at telling stories. I told a s...