Heidi McCloskey
Bio
I have internally decided that I am a writer. Since that decision was made, the voice in my head has changed. It’s become louder as it begs to be released.
Stories (25/0)
Extrasensory Perception
She awoke to the sound of a dog barking somewhere in the distance. As her brain slowly adjusted to being awake, the only noise she could hear was the soothing rain sounds that played softly on the Google Home device sitting on the nightstand beside her. She glanced over at the dimly lit screen and saw that the time read 3:16 a.m.
By Heidi McCloskey9 months ago in Fiction
Love at First Sight
Watching her curled up in her favorite chair, reading her Kindle, he thought about how lucky he was to have found such a beautiful creature to fall in love with. He thought about those three little words that couples in love tend to say to each other and knew that even if those words didn’t exist, he would still know that the woman he had chosen truly loved him. The twinkle in her expressive blue eyes and the way she smiled at him whenever she saw him expressed more love than any three words spoken aloud could ever say.
By Heidi McCloskey9 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 5 – Bullies and Doctors and Boys, Oh My!
Chapter 5 – Bullies and Doctors and Boys, Oh My! Courage is not having the strength to go on; it is going on when you don't have the strength. --Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), 26th President of the United States
By Heidi McCloskey10 months ago in Chapters
Breaking the Silence. Top Story - August 2023.
The enchanted forest was all abuzz; true love’s kiss had awoken the princess, the evil queen was dead, and it was all anyone could talk about. Yet, behind the cheers and merriment, whispers and rumors lurked in the shadows. Suspicions had been raised regarding the circumstances of the queen’s death, and the only information the Enchanted Forest’s Sheriff’s Department would provide was that it had been ruled an accident.
By Heidi McCloskey11 months ago in Fiction
Doing the Eddie Spaghetti
The above poem was written by me when I was around 12 years old. I sanded down the wood, stained it, shellacked the poem to the wood, and gave it to my dad for Father’s Day. It’s not the greatest poem, but I’m sure it meant the world to my dad at the time. He kept it with him for eighteen years, and it was given back to me by my stepmother after my dad passed away almost twenty years ago.
By Heidi McCloskeyabout a year ago in Men
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