Author Kellie N. Hill's Writing Portfolio
A highly skilled and passionate writer with a talent for creating compelling characters and crafting engaging stories. Seeking opportunities to contribute my storytelling abilities and dialogue writing expertise in a dynamic and collaborative environment.
Masks - A Black Fox Novel
(In Progress)
An excerpt from my upcoming Sci-Fi Heist series. (In progress, not final edit)
What's Left Behind - Short Story Series
An excerpt from my "The Division 2 Video Game" short story series
Bad Fables Audio Drama (In Production)
An excerpt from the Bad Fables Audio Drama series currently in the Production stages.
Masks - Black Fox excerpt
He frowned, wiping his dirty hands on a shop towel, “Sorry lass, I’m all booked for the day.”
I pulled the helmet off, setting it on the seat of the bike. My ponytail—which was long because my hair was straightened—blew in a summer breeze and tickled my lower back.
The black and white dog wagged happily at my feet, waiting to be petted.
“Oh, well I thought maybe now was a good time for that confession I owe you.” I crouched, scratching the dog’s exposed belly, “Who’s a good boy? You are! Look at how cute you are!” I stood back up, putting my hands in my back pockets.
Castiel’s eyes widened, “Violetta…er Violet. Hey. Hi. How…How are ya, love,” he pointed at me with a wrench in his hand he must’ve grabbed while I was distracted.
“It’s good to see you, Castiel. I’m fantastic. You?”
“Good. I’m good. Yeah, doing good.” He cleared his throat and stared at me.
The dog reluctantly left.
“Cute. The dog. I mean, you’re cute too.”
The tips of his ears turned red, “A confession, ya said?”
“Oh, that. Sure.” I walked into the garage, looking at all the new—or hardly used—equipment. I had no idea what any of it was, or what they did. “I’m a thief.” I picked up something that looked like a long rod, eyeing it over.
Castiel’s footsteps came up behind me, “Oh? And what do you steal,” he asked sarcastically as if he didn’t believe me, probably since he knew I was one of the richest people on Earth.
I set the metal tool on the counter.
He leaned towards me, reaching around me, and picked it up, placing it back in its proper place, completely straight.
“Whatever I want.” I held out his wallet, turning to face him.
“What the—” He checked his pocket.
“Sorry, bad habit. I’m really good at what I do. And that’s why I’m here.”
He took the wallet, checking the contents.
“Relax, I didn’t take anything from you.” I walked away from him, eyeing more of the equipment, “I have something I need to ask you because I think you, too, get into a certain type of trouble, and it’s alright if you don’t want to do it. I have no right to even be here to ask you something this serious after only meeting you, what, twice over the span of a few months?” I turned back around to face him, clasping my hands together in front of me.
“Oh…alright. Lay on me. It. Lay it on me. Your question, I mean.” He grabbed a bottle of water and took a drink to shut himself up, never denying my accusation.
I wanted to say something about his flub. Flirting with him was fun. But time was of the essence and I needed a coherent answer from him.
“Would you go with me to the Mayor’s reelection party next month?” I fidgeted with a screw I didn’t remember picking up, setting it down on the counter.
He spit the water out.
I flinched, taking a step back and bumping into my bike. My hands reached out to make sure I didn’t knock it over.
The dog came trotting back out of the office, licking up the water.
“I’m sorry.” He put a hand out.
I laughed. “It’s okay, you didn’t get any on me.”
He capped the bottle and set it down away from him, “Now, say—say what again?”
“I need a date on my arm for this fancy, wealthy-people event and naturally I thought of you.”
“Yer…yer asking me out,” he took a breath, “date…on a date…to the?”
“Well…if I’m being honest, it’s not actually a real date—”
“Like a fictitious date?” His Irish accent got stronger, “Wut am I, not REAL date material? Is that wut I am to ya, love? A work o’ fiction? No. Nope. I won’t do it then.” Castiel walked to the pod again, lowering it down, “Ya drove all this way ta ask me on a fictitious date?”
The dog came to me, laying beside my feet in a huff as if he was choosing sides.
I looked down at the dog, “Is he always so dramatic?” I walked towards the pod as he leaned over it, “Of course you are real date material. You’d probably be a fantastic date, with flowers and romance and all that stuff. Look, it’s not about the date per say, but that I really need some help. And you’re a pretty decent—”
“Pret’y decent?” He looked away, my eyes following him to one award and one dusty trophy he had on a large shelf otherwise empty, “Ya’ve got ta be kiddin meh,” came out from inside the giant thing, along with metal clanking sounds, “Insulting meh twice. Who does this lass think she is, Baxt'r? I was the top o’ me class at the academy in ev’ry vehicle,” he mumbled.
“Listen, I have big a job at the end of this month. Today, I need you to help me get into the military base and later I’ll need help with some other details. This is all highly illegal and we will have no support if the L.I.D. catch us. But you can get paid a whole lot of money.” I walked up beside him, “I know I just threw a lot of information at you, and I totally understand if you say no, but I really want you to be there with me.”
Castiel sighed and turned around, leaning against the front of the pod, “Ya know wut love, yes. I’ll do it. Not only will I do it, but I will do it so well it will make ya WISH I was yer non-fiction lov’r. Yer own mother will disown ya and cut ya clean off when she discov’rs I’m not actually yer boyfriend—”
“I don’t understand why her opinion matters—”
“—This is yer lie. Yer…yer…” He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.
I couldn’t stop grinning, “Are you finished?”
He stood up, putting both hands on hips, “I’m sorry. That was real aggressive of me. I meant it, but I’m sorry. What’s next?”
What's Left Behind Short story series excerpt
I wasn’t feeling my best. Not that I got much sleep to begin with, but
running on three hours and twenty-two minutes was just awful. I only
knew that because I’d checked my watch just before I passed out for the night, and sunrise was basically the same time every morning.
The thin sheet was cozy since I basically slept in just a tank top and
underwear at this point. It was always so damned hot, and we’d been here long enough that Matt and I didn’t have to stay in the mass barracks and were given separate rooms stashed away in the White House, so I wasn’t
concerned about privacy.
Manny had thought it proper that Agents have their own, individual
space. Nothing too fancy, but it was definitely quieter without Matt’s
snoring even if it was the equivalent of a large closet.
Sleep was divine, and I had actually toyed with the idea of sleeping in
today.
Matt can take care of rounds. He’s just fine without me anyway. Hell, he
doesn’t even need me. Why do we even pair up at all? We could actually achieve
more if we split up the tasks and searched the city.
A knock on the door made me groan since it was the first time in my months of being in D.C. that anyone ever knocked on anything to wake me
up.
I hoped it’d go away if I just stayed quiet enough.
It did not. In fact, it repeated itself. Five taps.
Dammit Matt. Just go get breakfast, I’ll be right there.
“Cassandra? Are you still asleep?” The door opened without
warning. A beam of actual sunlight flooded the room behind his familiar
shape in the doorway. At least what I could see of him through squinting
with tired, blinded eyes.
I pulled the sheet up over my head as his footsteps thundered
towards me, “Cassie?”
I made a hissing noise as he pulled the sheet off of my face, ruffling
my hair.
His eyes were chock full of concern as he plopped down on the bed
beside me, “Are you alright? Your eyes are red. Are you feeling sick?” He twisted his hand, laying the backside of it on my forehead, “You’re hot—”
“I’m always hot, it’s probably over one-hundred degrees today—”
“Do you need something? Water?”
“No,” I snapped at him. “I’m fine. Just go get breakfast.” I pulled the
covers, but he grabbed a handful of it, stopping me mid-way.
“I already ate breakfast and you never showed. I didn’t have
Blueberries this morning, it was kinda weird.”
“Matt, just go on. I’m fine, promise.” I rolled away from him.
“What’s wrong? You’re never still asleep.” Again, he insisted on
keeping me awake, grabbing at me and rolling me back to face him, “Did you…did you get sick? Do ya have the plague?” He leaned away, covering his mouth.
I grunted, grabbing a bottle from under my pillow, shoving it into his
lap.
“What’s this?” He held up the thick glass with one swallow left
inside, “You…you drank wine? When did you even get this? And why didn’t you share it?” His eyes met mine.
“Because I’m on my period and I wish to be left alone Matthew now
get out and take the sunlight with you.” I narrowed my gaze at him, hoping he bought my lie.
He set the empty bottle on the small table beside me, standing up,
“Aha. I’ll just be outside when you’re ready to go.”
“I’m not coming out today. You can handle it by yourself. You don’t
need me.” I pulled the covers back over my head—which was now pounding at the reminder of almost zero sleep—rolling over.
His footsteps walked away from me, “I always need you. You’re my
partner. Now as punishment for drinking all by yourself, we’re going to sweat out that alcohol. You have twenty minutes until I come back in here and drag you out of the bed myself.”
The door shut.
I cleaned myself up for the day and barely made it out into the
hallway when he rounded the corner.
Guess he wasn’t kidding about coming back to get me.
“Good morning Cassandra.”
I grunted, brushing past him.
He caught my arm, “Ah ah ah, let’s try this again.” He cleared his
throat, hooking his arm in mine and walking us down the hall together,
“Good morning, Cassandra.”
“Good morning, Matthew.”
He laughed, “Better, yet somehow worse.”
I drug my feet, slowing our pace.
But he refused to let me stop moving, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just tired.”
“A good workout will get the ol’ blood flowing.”
I saw him look down at me from the corner of my eyes. Had to keep
up my ruse, hoping he’d take pity on me, “I’m cramping. Pretty sure it
already is.”
He snorted, “That’s not what I meant. Do you—do you need
anything?”
“No,” I softened my tone, finally looking over at him, “I have some
things. Thank you.”
“Cool. I have a few tampons in case you do. They’re good for bullet holes.” He blushed, giving off a half laugh.
“Correct. Plugging up bloody holes is their sole purpose.” I laughed
at the discomfort on his face.
“Alright then.” He quickly changed subjects, letting my arm go once
we were in a clearing outside, “Come on, you already know the drill.”
“Ugh.” I took off my boots, starting to stretch and hoping I didn’t
vomit.
Matt did his—different stretches at a different pace—but we always
ended at the same time.
The dreaded jogging around the White House for cardio was next.
“Are you sure you can keep up?”
The right side of my lips lifted in a smile, “I always beat you.”
He laughed, “No you don’t.”
“Really?” I stepped forward.
He met me in the middle, “Really.”
I poked his chest, “You’re on then!”
“First back here wins, loser buys, well, finds drinks.” He reached
down, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
I admit my eyes did what I didn’t want them to do—look at his toned
body, “Fine.” My hands found the hem of my shirt, and I repeated the
action.
His eyes also failed him, stopping on my sports bra and hips before
snapping back up at my eyes sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning red.
A warm, summer breeze went between us, and a few heartbeats of awkward silence.
People had stopped and gathered—mostly women of course—and
started to side on teams and take bets. Someone randomly shouted ‘go’ and we both snapped out of it and took off running on our normal route.
I was faster, but he had more stamina. When we ran just for the
routine, we always finished together no matter what. But today, coupled with last night’s inebriation and dehydration, I clearly didn’t have it in me to keep going. Near the end, I felt like I was going to vomit and just stopped, bending over to spit out a dribble of stomach acid that had slithered up my throat in the guise of a burp.
Matthew looked back, stopping instantly and almost falling on his
face, “Hey!”
“I’m fine!”
He jogged back over to me, putting a hand on my bare, lower back,
“You sure you’re okay?”
The heat between his hand and my now-sweating skin was too much,
“Water.”
He nodded, jogging away.
I started walking back, wiping my hairline with my hand.
I’m seriously so sick of Summer.
Matt reappeared with a bottle of water and a towel. And really, really
sweaty. The sun was too damned bright out here, and he was glistening.
I covered my eyes with my hands.
“Here.” Matt moved my hands, wiping my face off for me with the
towel rougher than he intended to, “Sorry.” He chuckled, letting me take over the towel duty, cracking open the water bottle for me, “Take this too.”
I grabbed the bottle, watching a bead of sweat roll down his neck and across his chest, “Uhhh, thanks.” I shoved the towel at him, “You need
this.”
He caught it as I let go, walking away, “Where are you going?”
“I’m hungry.”
Bad Fables Audio Drama excerpt
The place was packed like a fisherman’s cart and faces blurred together.
My coin purse was overflowing with gold and I was grateful I’d have coins to spare into next week. My hands played the fiddle with ease and grace per my natural talent. Music ran through my blood.
On my journey to the grand main city, I persuaded a Troll to put me down and not eat me with an upbeat melody and stopped a Tick invasion with a smooth tempo of notes that sent them in the other direction. I even helped a woman woo the man of her dreams by playing alongside her as she sang him a heartfelt poem. My music does things to people and I try to make sure that it’s put to good use.
So here I was at Grandbuck’s Tavern; “The Bard and Beer.” The original owner had passed on already—God rest his soul in the bottom of something’s belly.
Anyway, being a Fawn has its ups and downs, and I covered the downs with a long, flowy skirt so I could stomp my hooves to the beat without the usual finger-pointing from the drunk and annoying Humies. My Ram horns, however, garnered other jokes that at this point I also kept hidden underneath a veil adorned with jewels.
I was doing my rounds, making the place feel merry enough to keep buying drinks and make the owner richer when it happened.
It always happened.
“Look, it’s a horny girl,” one of the Human patrons cackled, downing his drink.
My tune stopped, and I batted my eyelashes at him as my dark burgundy hair swayed while sauntering over to his table, “And only for a few pieces of gold, I’ll show you just how much, big guy.” I nuzzled his cheek with my right horn.
His friends laughed as red embarrassment flashed over his face.
I winked, turning to make my exit. My face slapped against a giant belly. Not that the belly itself was big, but attached to a big man. A big man with big hands caught me and lifted me off of my hooves to keep from knocking me down.
“Hands off the merchandise.” I swatted at him and he let me go. I had to look up really far, my head tilting to the side as I realized he actually was a Giant. A small one, though.
“Yer big, fella.”
He smiled down at me, something warm and welcoming about it. Made me want to hug that belly again and just take a nap.
“I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t know they let children roam about in here.”
I snorted out of my Deer-like nose, “Child?! I bet I’m older than you.” I poked his belly with the tip of my fiddle's bow, “Are ya even eighteen yet, Giant? You’re tiny for a big person.” I circled him, my hooves clacking on the wooden floor.
He laughed, “I like you. Perhaps you can aid me in my travels somehow.”
I returned to the front of him, holstering my instrument on my back, “And who would I be aiding?”
“Tudek Vaughn. And you are, little Fawn?”
”Kaiga.” I curtseyed, my flappy ears twitching, “You have a need for music along your travels?” I leaned in a bit closer, “Mine’s magical.”
“Magical?” His eyes widened as he grinned down at me.
“Yes, I’m a Bard.”
“A bard?!” His voice was joyous thunder that made everyone look at us momentarily, “Just what I need, you see, I’m a storyteller. And I have an adventure planned…”