Sammie Wilson

 'A professional writer is an amatuer who didn't quit' - Richard Bach
I didn't quit. 

My Journey - Free Fiction

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Bloodied Memories

Posted by Sammie on August 30, 2017 at 7:30 AM Comments comments (0)

Maybe I shouldn’t have come back?


The atmosphere carried the stain of violence forcing my mind into a past I would soon like to forget. The house itself was as decrepit as him - falling apart with age and no one willing to fill the void of loneliness. With every creak...

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In Death

Posted by Sammie on August 26, 2017 at 1:15 AM Comments comments (0)
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"I can't believe we're doing this."


Alice shook her head as she turned the knob of the front door.


"This is ...

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Looking into the Abyss

Posted by Sammie on August 23, 2017 at 8:45 AM Comments comments (0)


Fog crept over the lake like an ominous reminder of the ghost he'd just created. The shimmering reflection of the sparse trees caused a deeper darkness across the shiny surface while the ripples slowly made their way toward his feet. He didn't admire it's beauty rather felt as if the lake was an abyss of never ending suffering - his own personal hell.


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The Tale of Two Sides

Posted by Sammie on August 23, 2017 at 8:25 AM Comments comments (0)

Grinding up against a pole for money made me feel sexy.


Disgusting.


Powerful.


Sick to my stomach.


The music pumped through me as my body slid up and down the steel beam in the middle of the stage. With the lights flashing and the crowd shouting, the scene was set. Bending right back, I peeled off my bedazzled bra and the last of my dignity hit the floor.


After shift it was always the same, I’d go i...

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A Past Life (Based on a true story)

Posted by Sammie on July 7, 2014 at 7:40 AM Comments comments (0)

Detective Lily Prior studied her nephew from behind the two-way glass. He was only five-years-old with a bright smile and curly blond hair. He was an exceptional talker and even she couldn't deny the life experience behind those soulful blue eyes.


 

His mother had brought him in. Lily's youngest sister of only twenty-three years, she had pleaded with Lily to help them and thanks to Li...

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For Granted

Posted by Sammie on April 28, 2014 at 7:10 AM Comments comments (0)

They never hear me


                                                        They never see me



The home I remembered w...

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Calm Before the Storm

Posted by Sammie on June 12, 2012 at 8:25 PM Comments comments (0)

I have never feared for my life until I met him.


At nineteen, I was a naïve girl with dreams of having the beautiful house with a white picket fence. I don’t have the white picket fence but I do have the beautiful house and believe me, it comes with a price.

Facing the sound of the ocean, I listened as the white wash slammed ag...

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Lexi Slaughter

Posted by Sammie on May 31, 2012 at 9:40 PM Comments comments (0)

Lexi Slaughter is my new heroin for an upcoming novel. I've just been writing little scenes and putting her in them. They have nothing to do with what happens in her book, these are just character sketches.

 

Lexi sits on a steel bench overlooking the rough waters as waves slam against the rocks. The howling wind whips her copper blonde hair into a frenzy but she doesnR...

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Silent Resistance

Posted by Sammie on May 7, 2012 at 7:35 PM Comments comments (0)

 

My mother was like a modernized version of Mary Poppins. I would rarely see her without her apron tied around her waist or a smile playing over her lips and if anyone could make chores seem like a trip to Disneyland, it was her. She was as close to perfect as a person could get and the love between her and my father was nothing short of embarrassing. They acted like hormonally driven teenagers, an amazing (and gross) ...

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The Woman Who Called Herself 'A Fate'

Posted by Sammie on October 29, 2011 at 11:40 PM Comments comments (0)

 

She was an older woman, with humble eyes and white hair clipped short. The lines etched onto her face told a story of great knowledge and experience and the way she carried herself was full of purpose and grace. The expression she held was peaceful but all-knowing and I could just feel within myself that her soul was pure.


...

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Wrong Kind of Love

Posted by Sammie on September 2, 2011 at 10:20 AM Comments comments (0)


She dropped her eyes from his as a sign of her compliance. The backhand across her face stung as the force damn near snapped her neck. The blood that regularly spills trickled from her growing lip and the feeling of panic closed her throat as his hands wrapped around her small neck. Escalation. She knew for many years it was goin...

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DESPAIR

Posted by Sammie on June 12, 2011 at 10:05 AM Comments comments (2)

Her feet glided slowly over the shortly clipped lawn until she came to her spot - a monstrously large rock that was flat enough for her to sit on. Her view was a delicious treat and the day was perfect for just sitting and staring out into the crystal clear blue waters and watching the white wash pour from the waterfall. This was her day, she thought. Her day to not think about all of her troubles and stressful decisions that are waiting for ...

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Innocent

Posted by Sammie on March 8, 2011 at 6:12 AM Comments comments (4)
My first workshop piece for my second creative writing unit. We had to look at a picture and write whatever came to mind….Below is my image.



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Ever Lasting

Posted by Sammie on March 8, 2011 at 6:08 AM Comments comments (1)

Continuing on my learning experience of poetry I’ve been learning how to write a sonnet. Apparently a Shakespearean sonnet (the one I have to write) needs to be 14 lines with an abab cdcd efef gg sequence. If you aren’t familiar with this type of poetry you will see what I mean shortly. Each lin...

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Ultimate Betrayal

Posted by Sammie on March 8, 2011 at 5:48 AM Comments comments (6)

I was in an unfamiliar bed, the feeling of crisp sheets rubbed against my legs and the constant beeps of the machines told me I was in the hospital. For what I have no clue. I strained to look around but other than white walls there was nothing really to see. I lazily scratched my right hand where the drip ...

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