Stacey Ferguson

Wife, mother, and veteran who lives in Camden, South Carolina, USA. Favorite genre: historical fiction.

Writings

Followers

Following

Stacey Ferguson

Wife, mother, and veteran who lives in Camden, South Carolina, USA. Favorite genre: historical fiction.

Writings

Followers

Following

Refuge, Interrupted

Stacey Ferguson

1 min read

Carrie had hiked through this forest many times--it was her refuge, when life was beating her up. With each inhale, the scent of woody pine cleansed her mind and quieted her self-doubt. The dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees and sparkled in the slow drips of sap clinging to the crevasses of the bark. Beneath her feet, layers of brown pine needles shushed under her feet and cush...

Free

Stacey Ferguson

1 min read

I grab my sister’s hand and pull her towards the cliff edge with me. She nods slowly in my direction, then we jump. We had agreed on our escape plan weeks ago—we were ready. We fell in slow motion, I felt my stomach rise up into my chest, my sister’s long, blonde locks stood on end as we plunged towards the frothy sea. A seagull and her chicks were nested on a small shelf on the vertical cl...

Blue

Stacey Ferguson

1 min read

I move in slow motion, a stroll in three dimensions. There is no pain, no stress in this cold dream world. My voice means nothing, I cannot talk, cannot scream. Sound is warped—a sigh is now a burble, a clank is now a tink. Fizzing and crackling are the sound of vibrant, busy creatures. I am there, but all the creatures pay me no mind—predator and prey, flora and fauna. I am gray, and my blo...

Science fiction

Lost In The Pyrenees

Stacey Ferguson

3 min read

It was the worst kind of day to be lost and alone on a mountain. As if there were any “good” days to cross the Pyrenees to escape to neutral Spain, but today was exceptionally bad. The snow was beginning to fall; by the looks of the leaden gray clouds it wasn’t going to be a mere light dusting. George would scream in frustration if he weren’t trying to evade capture by Nazis.

It had been near...

A Parting Gift

Stacey Ferguson

2 min read

(This selection is part of a novel currently in work.)

I was having the strangest dream; everywhere I stepped, my footsteps sounded like broken glass. People were shouting with my every step, my feet were bleeding, yet they did not hurt. Charles and Eliza were crying out; I had to walk across the glass to get to them, but they seemed farther away with every step. I bellowed in frustration, wr...

Garden of Healing

Stacey Ferguson

2 min read

The house was awake—the thump and creak of feet on the floorboards, clanking of crockery, and the dull grinding that signified Betsey wielding the mortar and pestle. I picked up my basket and shears and walked out the back door to greet the day.

The garden was my refuge, my brief respite from the terrible war that boiled all around us. The flora and fauna of our garden piqued all of my senses an...

Night Intruder (2d version)

Stacey Ferguson

3 min read

Abigail was standing at the foot of Captain Gibbons’s bed, the candlelight shining through her gauzy shift, showing the tantalizing outline of her lithe, curvy body. He held his breath as she sauntered towards him, finger pressed to her lips; he fought the urge to bolt out of bed, embrace her, and devour her with kisses. The corner of her mouth was upturned in a seductive half smile. Her silk...

Night Intruder

Stacey Ferguson

3 min read

Abigail was standing at the foot of Captain Gibbons’s bed, the candlelight shining through her gauzy shift, showing the outline of her lithe, curvy body. He held his breath as she sauntered towards him, finger pressed to her lips; he fought the urge to bolt out of the bed and embrace her and devour her with kisses. The corner of her mouth was turned up in a seductive half smile as she leane...

Alone In The Forest

Stacey Ferguson

3 min read

I woke up with a monstrous headache and a terribly sore elbow. It took me some time to remember how I arrived at this moment. I slowly sat up, holding my head with my good arm, and took stock of my situation. I may have a concussion—best to move slowly. Did I fracture my elbow? It is terribly painful to move, but I can move it—probably not broken. How did I manage to injure myself? What am ...

Betrayed

Stacey Ferguson

2 min read

The stench of the gaol was overwhelming; I placed my handkerchief under my nose, though that did little to cover the miasma. Men and boys were exposed to the hot summer sun with little to no shade. Father was afforded the luxury of a slight, shady spot under an overhang; even in gaol, father was respected and honored by the men of Camden.

“Father! What…have they done to you?” I reached through...