KivaA

Location:  Ashland, OR
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Biography

Hi, my name is Kiva. Coming from a family of teachers and writers, writing has been a passion of mine since I was little.
Since graduating from Portland State University with my Bachelors, most of my writing has been purely recreational. My writing projects range from short stories and essays, to novels and novellas.
I feel like I bring a lot of creativity and passion into any project I start, and the writing that I do here will be no different.

EDUCATION:  Bachelors of Science from Portland State BLOG:  None provided
CERTIFICATIONS:  None provided CURRICULUM VITAE:  None provided

Niches

  • Arts & Design
  • Automobile
  • Education
  • Games & Hobbies
  • Health & Fitness
  • Humor
  • Outdoors
  • Pets & Animals
  • Travel
  • Women
  • Writing & Blogging

Writing Sample

                                                                           Chapter 1: Gone

            It's interesting the little things that stay with you, once you are long gone and out of a place. When I was twenty years old, I finally had had enough. Honestly, I feel like the day I was born was the day that I had decided I had enough of this place. However, it took me twenty years to live enough, save enough, and be old enough, to finally get the hell out. No sad goodbyes (I was never good at goodbyes anyway), No "I'll write you when I get there!" or "come visit me in the summertime!". No, I was careful to not make close friends with anyone I had gone to school with or worked with, though god, did some people try. When I was ready to leave, I just packed my bag, took one last look around the dirty, broken house that I had called me home for so long, and left.

            Now, as I said, it's interesting the things that stay with you. As I got on the greyhound and headed towards my first destination, I could not recall the words my mother had spoken to me as I packed up my bag and walked out. I was done listening to her and done believing in the hope that one day she might change and actually be my mother. I could not remember what I had even packed, for I got off work for the last time and stuffed it all in my backpack as fast as I could. But, there is one thing that still stays with me, and that's the awful, deep whine the porch door made as I left the house and walked down the steps for the last time.

            I pondered this as I sat in the back of the bus, looking out the window as mementos of the place I grew up in slowly disappeared, and new and fresh scenery arose. I had not been outside my small town for a very long time. The last time I remember was when I was twelve years old, when my dad was still alive and my sister was still here. I would go with them to the junk yards or the yard sales or the antique shops just outside of town, where me and my sister would play with each other, turning scraps of metal and broken wood into jungle gyms, or an old antique shop's shelves into an intricate maze while my father and my mother collected their junk.

            The bus stopped and my day dreaming stopped, both abruptly and without notice. An old lady hobbled on to the bus, walking slowly down the rows of seats until she came to mine. I'm not sure why she decided to sit by me, the bus was not full at all. But low and behold, she did. Just my luck. I faked a smile and scooted my bag over, giving her room. She smiled at me as well, eyeing my bag and me as if I was a puzzle she was trying to crack, or piece together. Isn't that what old ladies do anyway? Piece together puzzles? Good luck with this one lady.    

            "Where are you headed?" She asked, her voice as old as she looked.

            "Seattle," I managed to say, another fake smile playing on my lips.

            She nodded, not really looking at me with her grayish blue eyes, but staring more towards the front of the bus. The bus began to roll, and I hunkered down, ready for a long day of short conversation and awkward silences.

            I turned to face the window as she spoke again, "You have family there in Seattle?"

            I nodded turning to face her, my hands starting to wring themselves nervously in my lap,   

           "Yes, my sister lives there."

            Now it was her turn to nod, "Ah, I see, I see. Visiting your sister then? How nice. How fun."

            Oh god, here we go. More nods as I turned towards the window again. I didn't bother to explain to her that this was one vacation I was never coming back from. Luckily, she didn't ask me anymore questions, but took out a book from her purse and silently began to read