Hi, my name is Quin and I have been publishing some raw, unedited stories on BlueSky. These are prompts, micro-stories and writings. All words are made by me-a human. I usually give myself 15 minutes to just write something as a creative warm up.
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The QuinStory today is a haiku.
slow ache of winter
waiting to see you again
snow melts with my tears
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Quinstory #amwriting #microstory #writer
The music I listened to for the story today was
-Whitby by Stephan Moccio-
if you would like to listen along as you read.
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Quinstory #amwriting #writer #microstory
The music playing while writing this was Don’t Go by Christopher Dennis Coleman. Thank you for reading.
He always lit a lakeside fire in the evenings, no matter the season. Adding a log, he watched the sparks dance up into the night sky.
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Quinstory #amwriting #writer #storyteller #microstory
Music listened to while writing- Earth by Gunnarsson
She stood on the ferry watching the island become just a dot on the ocean. The warm breeze lifted her locks across her cheeks, as she brushed them behind her ears.
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Quinstory #writer #amwriting #microstory
The bus came to a stop, the brakes squeaking and then a loud hiss. He gazed out the window at the dilapidated buildings. People were wandering around with lost faces, everything they owned on their backs or in small wagons.
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Quinstory
Her heart was restless as she sat by the roaring fire, mending a shirt he may never wear again. The rocking chair creaked on the wood floor, as her foot kept rhythm with her worries. The wind rattled the old windows, and the flames leaped with each crack of the wood.
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Quinstory - a free verse poem.
Gentle content warning-the poem today is about depression. The name of the poem is Relictus, which is Latin for 'abandoned'.
#writer #amwriting #poetry #writing #writinginpublic
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Quinstory #amwriting #writer #microstory
She looked down at her pale hands, blue veins seeming to form letters under the knuckles. Touching each finger, she felt the lines and ridges. These hands began their journey by grasping her father’s finger tightly moments after she was born.
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Quinstory
Today is a poem I wrote at the surge of the pandemic when we were in quarantine. Thank you for reading, always.
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Quinstory (a longer one)
He worked precisely forty hours per week, ate for thirty minutes at mealtime, did laundry only on Sundays and his showers lasted fifteen minutes. A predictable yet satisfying life.
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Quinstory
Opening the doors to the vacation house in the spring was normally a blissful moment. They would unpack the car, open the blinds to the ocean air & uncork a bottle of wine to celebrate as the sun went down. But this year would be different. This year, he was gone.
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The Quinstory today is an abstract poem. Thank you for reading.
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Quinstory #amwriting #microstory
His family had owned the sandwich shop for three generations. Almost everything was made and grown fresh from their farm twenty miles outside the city. He took pride in the fact that he would carry on the traditions that made their family name known worldwide.
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Quinstory #amwriting #writinginpublic #microstory
He didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was 2am. Waking up at 2am was routine now. Staring at the ceiling fan overthinking every single life decision in the middle of the night, was perfectly normal if you were to ask him.
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Quinstory
They pulled up to their favorite fishing spot at the shore. Daylight was burning the clouds away, as the seagulls graced the sky in flight. He stayed in the truck as she got out and walked to the back. She climbed over the tailgate to grab the gear.
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Quinstory #amwriting
He stood in the kitchen, leaning over the counter staring at the recipe. He kept it folded and put away for so long, that the creases were yellowing with age. With a deep sigh, he rolled up his sleeves, then went to the pantry, setting out the ingredients listed at the top.
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Quinstory
The cellar door was always hard to open. The hinges were rusted from weather and made an eerie screech as she used both hands to pull it free. She waved off dust floating up around her face as she peered down inside.
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Quinstory
It was a frosty morning, snowflakes dotted the dormant grass and her breath hung in the air as she cried. She sat on the front porch, hugging herself with a flannel blanket wrapped across her shoulders.
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Quinstory
He always sat on the same bench in front of the bay to eat his lunch. Rarely changing his order that he bought from the cafe near the park. Between people-watching and occasionally reading his latest used bookstore find; it was always uneventful.
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Quinstory
This was home. Her feet had caressed every blade of grass in these golden fields. And she could still hear the hushed echoes of her ancestors wafting through the halls.
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Quinstory
They had known each other for so long; hovering in orbit, she the planet and he just one of her moons. But there was one day when that symbiotic relationship no longer satisfied their thirst for one another. After both having stress in their work and lives, bravery got the best of him.
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Quinstory This one is personal. 😉
The dragstrip was busier than the usual Saturday events. The Showdown always attracted a large crowd.
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Sorry, no story today.
Reorganizing bookshelves to make space for more banned books. (Yes, really) 😌
Btw-all stories are on the QuinStory feed. Catch up or reread. Pin and like for updates and to read without scrolling through other posts.
🫶🏼✍🏼👩🏻💻
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