Mar 05
m.fredella's picture

Hurricane


Our basement is wet and cold. I huddle against my sister and brother, their warmth seeps into me and spreads through my body. My parents hold us closer, their arms encircling us in an embrace of love and protection. We can hear the aggressive wind ripping our house apart above our heads. I wonder if our neighbors are safe, our relatives, my friends. What if we are the only survivors? My hands shake uncontrollably with fear. I clench them tightly, until my bony knuckles turn white. We had very little time to prepare. The weathermen said the hurricane was supposed to miss us, but they were wrong. We had a day to prepare. The supermarkets were packed, teeming with frantic people searching for food to last them through the storm. People were fighting over cans of beans and soup. I guess that’s where the old saying “desperate times call for desperate measures” comes from. We spent the night getting the basement ready.
Dec 20
m.fredella's picture

Heights


She tells herself every day that she’ll conquer her fear.

When she gets a muffin at the small coffee shop on the corner and stares up while she takes a bite. Not at the sky, but at the tall glass building that blocks out the sun. It’s almost a tradition for her. Passersby stare at the strange girl who stops and stares at the skyscraper. And she takes a step, toward where the towering building was built from the solid earth, where it’s safe.

She walks with determination to the double doors that grant access to her biggest fear. She only pauses to throw out her half-eaten muffin in a small trash can. Large heavy doors are pushed open to reveal a vast room full of bustling strangers.
Dec 14
fiction 0 comments challenge: Power
m.fredella's picture

The Good Old Days


7.6 billion people granted a superpower, but none can be the same. If I were given this opportunity, I don't know what I would choose. All the good ones like mind reading, invisibility, happiness, power, smartness, success, ect. would be taken. I mean I would love to be super smart and never have to worry about not succeeding in life, but I wouldn't be able to choose those things. I guess If I was granted one superpower that had to be different from everybody else's, I would choose the ability to know when I'm in the good old days before I am no longer in them. I am afraid my life is going to pass me by, and I won't take advantage of what I was given. I wish that I could know which moments were going to change my life, so I can pay more attention. Now that would be a superpower.
Dec 05
fiction 0 comments challenge: Trees
m.fredella's picture

Dancing Trees

Limb to limb

Arm to arm

The secret whispering of leaves between two old friends

The whistle of wind blowing through splayed branches

Branches that sway in time to inaudible music

Clawed wooden hands reaching up to the ever changing sky

Roaming roots ripping from the damp soil

A strange rhythm of the woods

Oh, what a strange sight

Dancing trees, moving to a silent beat

Oh, what a strange sound

Singing trees, chanting a silent melody

Oh, what a strange experience

A tree party

 
Nov 29
m.fredella's picture

Broken

Hands stiff and sore, calloused from spinning day after day

Lungs black and failing

Back bent, head low

Clothes dirty and soiled

Feet blistered and aching

This is no way to live a life

The confines of this mill will be the death of me

I need to get out

Will the photographs save me?

Will the strange man with a camera be my savior?

Probably not

I will pose nonetheless

Surely somebody will take pity on a frail, broken girl
 
Nov 09
m.fredella's picture

A rainy night


            Cold rain pelts my face as I jog down the empty street. It soaks my clothes and chills me to the bone. I’m not dressed for this weather, I have to hold my long black dress up while I jog carefully, balancing on tall heels. My hair sticks to the side of my face and I squint, trying to figure out where I am. I don’t recognise the tall crumbling buildings around me, or the old cracked street signs. The buildings don’t exactly look welcoming, but I need to get out of this weather or I’ll freeze. Ducking under a fence and squeezing through a small opening on a boarded up door, I manage to get inside one of the less broken down and dilapidated buildings.
Oct 25
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Thoughts of Moonlight

A girl gazes up at the night sky, the moon casting light on her face. Her hazel eyes shine with the light of a million stars. She wonders about what's out there, beyond our reach. Is it just desolate space stretching on and on, never ending? Her eyes trail an airplane flying among the stars, it's blinking lights so different than the calm shine of the stars. What are the people on that plane thinking? Are they wondering what all the little people down here are up to? Most are sleeping. It's almost two o'clock in the morning, only the restless and slightly crazy ones are still awake. The girl brushes a hand over her face and closes her eyes. A year ago today, her best friend left this world. They used to sit right here on top of this hill in the light of the moon, and wonder about the universe. About the unexplainable. Now she wonders about death. Where is her friend now? When u die, are u just simply dead, or do you get a second chance.
Oct 18
poem 0 comments challenge: Creature
m.fredella's picture

Creature of Change

I am the falling of red, orange, and yellow leafs
The first snowflake in late fall
The rising and falling of the ocean tide
Day and night
The first kiss between two lovers
The divorce of two parents
The death of a loved one
The screaming of a newborn baby
The happy smiles of a newly engaged couple
The loose grasp of death
The first heartbreak
A young girl’s first love
The spark of hope
For I am Change
I am a creature of light and dark
And I am feared

 
Oct 12
m.fredella's picture

Changes


A woman hurries down the street, her pale hands pulling a coat tighter against the cold. Her long auburn hair tumbles down her back in loose waves. The brisk air bites at her nose and cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. The red scarf she wears around her neck pops against her paling skin and dark coat. Her tan, freckled skin and blond hair from Summer is gone, along with the glowing, golden brown hair from Spring. The tips of her hair are already fading into a muddy brown color, for winter is coming. Her breath puffs out through crimson lips, wafting like a cloud of smoke in the cold air. Her shoes click-clack loudly on the cracked pavement, drawing the attention of others. She walks with purpose, shoulders squared and head high. She pops in a sea of people, all in different stages of transformation. Red, orange, yellow and brown hues surround her on all sides. A rush of warm bodies, pumping hearts, and hurried strides.
Sep 21
m.fredella's picture

Songbird


Rachel trails her feet over the surface of the lake. She had been sitting out on the dock for almost two hours. She had run out of the house saying that she needed to “clear her mind” after her mom had revealed that she was engaged. Her father had been dead for a year and her mother had already gotten engaged to another man. It was like her mom thought that she could just fill the hole that her father had left. She felt betrayed and alone, and sitting on the end of the dock where her and her father used to sit, she felt a surge of anger. Towards her mom, and that drunk driver that had killed her dad. Towards Ralph her dads “replacement”, and the world that that always seemed like it was fighting against her happiness, and finally towards herself for believing that maybe, just maybe she could let go of her dad and accept Ralph. It felt wrong thinking like that, almost like she was betraying her father by choosing someone else.