Hannah Priestley

I stammer before the man; towering build, glowering face. His features unfamiliar, yet hauntingly similar to Dan’s. It’s the eyes: multifaceted blues, glinting beneath the shadow of his heavy brow. His scent a mix of mint and blood.
I want to cry, to collapse––but all I manage––“You came?”
#WriteCBC

Even with the power of teleportation, I’ll be ten minutes late. In my haste, I grab Theo’s coat and swing through the front door with the rain drumming on his oversized hood. My hand slips into the pockets, but my touch stills at the unmistakable cool of steel and curving sharp of a blade.
#WriteCBC

“Not again.” A gust from the door irks her eyes wide, to find it closed. By her feet the air shivers, like that of a tuning fork. Each finger purposefully curls around her ankle, clamping with a thumb. She braces, readying for the drop like a coaster and screams with a yank into oblivion. #WriteCBC

In Caine Wood, the Tic-Tac-Oak remains more monument than tree, with a halo of shadow, but not from its barren sprawl. No crocus comes in spring, no leaf lies at fall. The scars of crosses and knots of eyes mean nothing to a perching fledgling, and the virescent forest quivers in reply. #WriteCBC

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Sage and leather catch the skirts of my tongue, while tall, ebony bookcases crest above like a barrelling wave. At the end of the glum, narrow hall, a white canvas lures me like a window of light with a brushed spiral of rusty red, but I startle as its centre hosts a handprint of blood. #WriteCBC

🥹 Thank you so much! A great start to 2025 💕✨

How to achieve your new year’s writing goals Whether you’re launching into a new writing project or trying to wrap up your current one to start pitching to literary agents, the new year is the perfect time to refresh your creative goals, look at...

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2025 is my year to step out my comfort zone. I’m going to come away from my comfort series and start new lives who face a series of unfortunate events. These poor, poor characters 😅🤦🏻‍♀️ #WritingCommunity #WriteCBC

They scuttle from the roof as icy shapes dart to the grim wood forming a womanly silhouette.
“She’ll be back,” mums says as the flame in my palm grows, shrinking the hearth’s glow.
“Do you think the other EllaMentals know we’re here? What do we do?”
She absorbs the fire, “We run.”
#5ActFestiveStory

While frozen before the crystallising figure rising from the fog. The silhouette forms glassy skin, but those eyes.
His glacial glare lifts with a smirk, “My, my, Ella, how you’ve grown.”
I glance at the fire, but his brow lifts, “I dare you.”
His smirk drops as the hearth flares…
#5ActFestiveStory

The nerves are contagious while lifting her case through the crunching snow as we trudge to the car and jump in. Through the descent of dusk, a golden glow of headlights illuminate the lane. The truck speeds toward us, colliding into the side of our car, throwing us from our seats.
#5ActFestiveStory

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She scrambles to stand, unsteady as she swings into the hall, pulling her coat from the rack.
She cries, “Call your brother!”
“Why?”
“Call him!”
She’s breathless by the front door, while the monotonous dial tone screams into the silence, but someone else answers, “You’re too late.”#5ActFestiveStory

A heat surges in my chest, with steam increasing pressure like the rising heat of a kettle, releasing a hissing whistle through gritted teeth. He will be sorry. The front door flings open with rhythmic steps crunching untrodden snow, releasing a satisfying creak beside his trail.
#5ActFestiveStory