Latest Fiction Post

  • Play the Victim December 14, 2017

    The burning, itch in my throat intensified when I woke up. Cool air shocked my system. Light reflected off of everything, making colors ten times clearer. Vampire sight plus a hangover had landed me in bed for the weekend. But that meant no blood in over 48 hours. That meant starving.

    I had thousands of options: drunk sorority girls, hot stay-at-home-moms, my snobby flatmate. Atlanta had no shortage of people.

    I rolled out of bed and pulled on jeans. My purple flannel didn’t look too rumpled. Because the apartment was dark, I put my shoes on. Eating in wasn’t an option.

    Dazed and walking into the setting sun, I ducked into a dim, eclectic bookstore. A combination of soft rock and indie hummed through the speakers. The smell of weed soaked into my shirt. It was easy to tell the potheads from the lone wolf types.

    Picking out a familiar book, I settled in an arm chair across from a girl with long, dark hair piled on one side of her head. Gold earrings encircled her ears. Her white neck bent elegantly over her grimoire. She didn’t notice me. I glanced at her until she caught me. She shifted away.

    I flipped through my book a few times. “Eastern mysticism or Western magic?”

    She flashed the dark green cover at me. “Eastern. True magic.”

    “How many of those spells have worked for you?”

    “Enough.” The vein in her neck pulsed.

    Time to get her home. “I won’t believe unless I see it.”

    “If I ...

more....

Latest Poetry Post

  • Extinguished December 12, 2017

    You hold the tip of the stick over

    the flame and wait for the marshmallow to

    melt with pain.

    Next light a candle and lick your

    fingers before they pass over the wick.

    Did you feel it?

    Did it burn?

    I know you own many books

    on the Salem witches and their bonfires.

    You read them when no one’s home.

    You press cigarettes to your arm when you think

    you’re alone.

    I asked you once if you thought

    that you were a witch.

    You thought I was a child.

    You started closing your blinds. And maybe that’s better.

    When you went missing, it was like you were already gone.

more...

About

WedbushWrite is the official website of Sydney Wedbush the fantasy and speculative fiction author. Here you will find her fiction and poetry posts as well as updates on her writing projects and articles from her study abroad in London. Learn more about her on the About page.