
Skyler Saunders
Bio
I will be publishing a story every Tuesday. Make sure you read the exclusive content each week to further understand the stories.
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Stories (3010)
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Every Marine
Water gurgled from the spigot. The yellow mop bucket received the flow as it splashed into the container. Blond hair and blue eyed Lance Corporal Reese Young and dark skinned PFC Tanasia Cunningham held onto their mops like scepters. Reese had a small face with little dimples in her cheeks. Tanasia had a small nose, no acne or freckles. Each wore the same medium hair length haircuts. Once the water had reached the appropriate level, Reese turned off the faucet and proceeded to bring the mops and bucket to their shop.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
A Talk with the Chaps
On the way to the shop, Lance Corporal Glynn Caldwell walked with a purpose. During this season of trading, he became in the festive mood. He had just finished putting up lights with Lance Corporal Cagney Reynolds and they added a tiny Christmas tree. He would receive his fifth consecutive outstanding for barracks room cleanliness. He reached the entry place and flashed his watch and stepped into his shop.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Put into Action
Four-star Marine Corps General and Joint Chiefs of Staff Chair, Bega Roylance ironed his uniform. His service Alphas, his Bravos, “Chucks,” and cammies all could’ve been serviced by a lance corporal or even a corporal. No. Instead, he got up at two in the morning and pressed all of his garments and affixed his rank insignia and awards and ribbons to his uniform. Then he ran. He wore his New Sweden University sweatshirt where he graduated with a degree in Strategic Studies. Now, in PT shorts, he ran three miles in nineteen minutes. He may have been fifty-eight, but he was no joke out there on the course. Like a cheetah sprinting on the Serengeti, Roylance shot down the last turn. He breathed.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Love and Ammo Cans
MARPAT desert uniforms blended into the sand like copperhead snakes that slither over the landscape. The Marines took a knee. Lieutenant Colonel Whitford used a handsfree microphone in the blasted heat. He spoke with his hands always returning to a stance with his feet shoulder width apart pointing out board and his left hand over his right almost in a praying display around his navel.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
OFP
Her caramel skin couldn’t save her. Her Master’s Degree in Computer Science couldn’t save her. The rank of major couldn’t have prevented this. The blue and white sheets that stretched just under her chin only served as a modest comfort blanket from the hell that she just went through. Her mind was afire. It was 4 AM. The lights illuminated. She looked down at her bracelet which read her name and blood type. She laid in a Naval hospital and watched as the nurse entered the room to check for vitals. Nurse Vivian stood at about five foot seven inches and walked over to her and spoke. Ophelia feigned sleep.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Futurism
Where Their Chevrons Lay
He stood there like a monolith. Black as a clump of rare earth elements. He stood at the position of attention. His camouflage uniform looked slightly shabby. Some parts seemed pressed and in order while great patches looked ruffled and unkempt. He rolled his sleeves tightly, though. Silence pervaded the room of about eight other junior Marines, privates and privates first class (PFC) mainly. The hatch to the place swung open and Staff Sergeant Henley, aged twenty seven, also blue black in appearance, stepped up to the young PFC standing at attention. This was PFC Cartwright. Tears streaked his dark skin.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Billion Dollar Smiles
Large oak desks presented newsmen and women the opportunity to sit like the panel on high and the individual sitting by herself. Dozens of tablets and digital recording devices and cameras surrounded the woman like animals’ eyes peeping out from the brush of the jungle. She wore a forest green colored suit with gold trim and a matching pillbox hat. She poured a glass of water from the large pitcher. It was chilled but had no ice in it. She breathed calmly, almost seductively. Her voluptuous figure caught the attention of the photogs who would sell her photographs for millions. The curve of her mouth said judicious. Her nose perceptive. And her eyes burned like lanterns in darkness. She moved the microphone closer. Her ebony skin matched the digital apparatus. The hearing commenced.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in The Swamp
Proper Bearing
The heat of the parking garage enveloped the Marines. Lance Corporal Stevenson Swinton worked his biceps, his triceps, his tapezius, his core. Sweat dropped like shell casings from a M240. Other lance corporals and corporals operated in similar fashion. Every move remained swift and precise. The idea was to get buff, sure. But the real reason behind all of this lifting, squatting, pressing, and yes sweating was to be the best Body Bearers. Swinton dropped the two hundred and twenty five pound bar on the bench press. He looked up at his platoon guide. A smirk found its way onto his face.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve











