Meagan Dion
Bio
My life is a little crazy. Four kids, homeschool, write, create and coffee. Coffee is a verb. Do you coffee? I aspire to blow glass and finish / publish my novel. I would like to have an impact. Also, coffee.
Stories (40/0)
Crumbling Sands
That night, Johnny and Quinn celebrated a year together by dinning at the fanciest restaurant on the coast of Maine, followed by a chilly walk on the beach at sunset. The sky was alive with glowing swaths of amber, rouge, and tangerine, warming the otherwise brisk landscape. The ocean waves swelled and tossed themselves to the sandy shore while Quinn had stared into Johnny's deep blue eyes. She had bristled against the chill in the salty sea air so Johnny had pulled off his faded black suit jacket and offered it to her. What a gentleman.
By Meagan Dion16 days ago in Humans
- Top Story - April 2024
Lacey Sturm
In 2010 repressed memories of my childhood trauma began chasing me in earnest. There had been subtle nudges and questions that pricked my mind before that, but that year I really began feeling broken. It was as if my subconsciousness was grieving without my consciousness knowing why. All I knew was everything I did, everywhere I went, was permeated by a low level sadness I couldn't name.
By Meagan Dion2 months ago in Humans
Indomitable Love
* There are different kinds of love. The most frequently referred to is Eros, or romantic love. I want to bring attention to a more powerful love. The love that never ends. This love is not an emotion, it is a verb, and can be applied to a large range of relationships. Despite obtaining my Bachelors degree in Biblical studies, it was only later in life that I fully understood this vein of love based off of one biblical account.*
By Meagan Dion3 months ago in Humans
- Top Story - February 2024
Small World
A frozen canvas surrounds me, pure and twinkling. My feet crunch in the snow, so beautiful it seems fake. Isn't it strange that we describe real things as so pretty they appear fake, and fake things as so pretty they look real? Trudging under the billowy grey skies, I make my way to the iron bench.
By Meagan Dion3 months ago in Fiction
Linus In Washerland
Everybody knows there's a void, a mysterious land, that opens it's cavernous maw when no one is looking. It devours various odd belongings without a trace. This monster is a vacuum dimension that somehow pinpoints the crucially important items; the pacifiers, the wedding rings, the keys. It picks them off systematically-especially if you need it, especially if it's one of a pair. Many an odd sock has tumbled in, never to be seen again. I am one such sock. I'll never forget the pull of the void, the look on Rita's face before we were separated, and I'll never stop wondering how I ended up where I did.
By Meagan Dion3 months ago in Fiction
Throwing in the towel
"I'm walking out!" The venomous words propel out of my mouth and box the ears of my employer while I slam the gnarled rumple of scrap paper down on my manager's desk, on which the words "I quit" can be read, impulsively scribbled in black sharpie marker. Turning on one heel, I whip around and storm out while people cheer, validating my unquestionably great decision.
By Meagan Dion4 months ago in Writers