Michaela's Musings

Hello, everyone! With finals week right at my doorstep, I'm going to be extremely busy (😭). With my English portfolio completed, I've decided to post the pieces here! This flash fiction piece was one of the first I ever wrote for the class. It was inspired by one of my close friend's who traveled to Ireland and brought me back a beautiful amethyst necklace (if you're reading this, love you pookie!). Hope you enjoy! A Phiuthrag 's a Phiuthar The thick stench of wet smoke and rain burned my nostrils as I approached the banshee, her violet cloak obscuring her face. Deafening cries erupted from the figure, heralding the imminent demise of one unlucky soul. My thoughts wandered to my sister, bedridden and pale. As I came to a standstill in front of the specter before me, a timid yet daring plea left my mouth. “Can you help me?” As suddenly as her wails began, the spirit stopped. Silence settled, thick and heavy, until all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. As ...

Good morning, everyone!!! Happy Tuesday! I'm in the process of completing my final portfolio for my creative writing course and wanted to share some of those pieces on here. This story is partially inspired by the viral Vogue article  Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? by Chanté Joseph and my own experiences. It wasn't my intention at first, but it ended up being very cathartic. Hope you enjoy! Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? (Based on Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? by Chanté Joseph) Shame.  Burning, pinching, suffocating shame. Even though I told Lauren not to bring him, she insisted. “Oh come on, Michaela! You won't even notice that he’s there.” After getting kicked out of our favorite restaurant, it’s pretty hard to miss the red-faced man screaming as he’s escorted out of the establishment.  He’d ordered a rare steak and when it came out just as he’d ordered it, he started throwing a tantrum. Shouting “I’m paying $20 for fucking trash” and “we ...

  Hello everyone! The year is flying by! We had the first flurries of the season today on campus, so that was exciting! I recently finished a short story that originally started as a writing exercise. I was originally aiming for it to be less than 500 words, but it grew beyond that scope. I'm quite happy with the finished product though. Hope you enjoy! Ol' Low Bone Parish In Low Bone Parish, the water don’t knock. It barrages in like an angry father, ready to dole out a whoopin’.  It started when Old Julie White had had one of her visions, putting everyone on edge. Nothing good comes from one of her visions.  A brave few ventured up to her porch and asked what she had seen. In a voice that crackled like fire, this is what she saw. Her homegoing was coming, and with it, a storm unlike anything Low Bone had ever seen. Winds fast enough to snap a child’s neck. Swamp water high enough to claim anything in its path, including the trees. Hungry, hungry gators roaming for fresh...

 Hi everyone! I hope you had a happy Halloween 🎃. This semester, I've been taking a fiction writing class and it's fantastic! We mostly focus on short form writings: short stories, flash fiction, etc. These assignments have really gotten my creative juices flowing and I've been producing some interesting pieces. Surprisingly enough, I've been writing mostly horror.  As you probably already picked up on, horror is my favorite genre. However, I was always hesitant to write it because I wasn't sure how to evoke the same terror my favorite horror media have instilled in me. But!  I've been having very vivid dreams which have acted as the inspirations for my stories. This piece wasn't inspired by a dream, but a French show from the early 2000s: Petit Vampire (2004). I hope you enjoy it! Evocation of the Spirit She didn’t think it’d actually work. Claudia had found the worn grimoire in the attic. Filled to the brim with rituals and spells, she wanted to see if th...

 Hello everyone! This is another very short horror piece. I was inspired by another dream, in which I was stuck in a snow storm and fierce werewolves were on the prowl. I tried to focus more on tension building and imagery to accentuate the rising dread in the narrator. Hope you enjoy! prowl There’s a dog outside. Not small and cute like a pomeranian. Not imposing like a husky. It was bigger. Much bigger. There shouldn’t be a dog outside.  Or any animal for that matter. It’s the middle of winter. Snow spat out from the sky, turning the neighborhood into a frozen wasteland. Howling wind whipping anyone who dared to venture out with icy lashes. A blinding sea of white as far as the eye could see. Except for the strange animal outside. The dog is closer. I can now make out distinct features. Thick, shaggy jet black fur and red eyes. Crimson pools glowing amid the blizzard. They were fixated on me. All I could see were its teeth. It is not a dog. The creature’s maw is lined with i...

Hello everyone! This was a small piece I conjured based on a dream I had a few weeks ago. I've always had a fascination with wild women who are allowed to go apeshit. I think women are held to a morally pure standard in both fiction and real-life. An aspect of gender equality is allowing women to be fully fledged individuals. This includes the morally gray, righteous, and evil. Content Warning: Graphic description of blood and insides Blood tastes sweeter than you’d think. Alongside the tang of iron, there’s a tart sweetness—like freshly squeezed strawberries. If I close my eyes and block out the smell, it’d taste just like one of those strawberry refreshers on a hot summer day. Or maybe it’s just because Charlie was sweet. Charlie always had a softness about him. Full, cherubic cheeks dusted with a delicate pink. Soft brown waves my fingers always got tangled in. Hazel eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, caressing me with adoration. Those same eyes glazed over and stuck in permane...

Like Clockwork Hi everyone! This short story was born from an idea I had a couple years ago. I just sat down last night and it poured out of me. I'm glad I'm able to share it with all of you. My inspirations for it were Frankenstein and Robecca Steam from the Monster High franchise. I wanted to explore mad science and grief. No particular reason. The idea just seemed interesting to me. Content Warning: This story contains themes of grief, death of a child, disinterment (grave digging), body horror, and emotional distress . Reader discretion is advised. There was a storm the day Becca died. It was an accident, they said. The roads were slick with rain. The driver may or may not have been on his phone.  But the collision was deadly.  Metal tore through muscles and tissue. Bones twisted in impossible angles.  It all ended with two battered and bruised cars, and a girl who’d never wake up again.  As Becca’s coffin was lowered into the damp, unholy ground, many gave thei...