Jonathan kicks off his boots, fluffs of white snow colliding with the wall of the cabin foyer. This is his fourth night trying to make it out of this cabin to his car. The snow storm has been ruthless, hail falling on any poor soul that dared to travel. At this point, Jonathan wondered why he even bothered to try today.
He tosses logs in the fireplace
and starts a fire, begging for warmth to fill the room. He knew this trip was a bad idea, but his best friends, Lenny and Roy, told him it would be the perfect guys' trip. They could even go ice fishing. Yet, neither of them are here, only Jonathan.
Jonathan checks the perimeters of the two-story cabin and closes all of the doors. He used to leave them ope...
The same tree root caught Michael--again--sending him and his skateboard flying. He landed hard on the old concrete sidewalk, and sat for a moment, breathing heavily before pushing himself up. “I hate those freaking maples,” he muttered as he scrambled to his feet, rubbing his painful rear.
The gentle downward slope of the street might have
made a perfect ramp for skating, but in this neighborhood, the century old sidewalk was lined with big leaf maples whose roots cracked and created ridges in the concrete. An unwary skater could find himself thrown off balance and off his board if he didn’t pay attention, like today.
There was a hidden advantage to the sidewalk conundrum. The damaged si...
No, not really. My name is Steven, but "Call me Steven" doesn't quite have the same effect. "Moby Dick" was, no is, Tristan's favorite book. He always said it was the best and worst book he ever read. He used to like to read the last part to us, the part where Moby Dick destroys the whaler, and even though the sailors know
they are doomed, they allow Ahab to beckon them on in pursuit of the great white whale. In the end, when the ship and all the boats are destroyed, and the sailors killed, Ishmael survives thanks to Queequag's coffin.
Tristan is a survivor, just like Ishmael. That's why I don't believe he and Isolde are dead. Tristan would never give up on living and he'd n...
Nightmares are interesting. You can wake up from a nightmare and be terrified for days or you can wake up with tears on your face. Some wake up from nightmares and are confused while others laugh silently to themselves. Nova has dreamed the same nightmare as long as she can remember, with little details exchanged every time. For twenty years she has seen the
sad boy in dirty clothes by the blood-red lake. She doesn't think it's interesting when she wakes her friends screaming on sleepovers or when she wakes up crying on Christmas Eve. However, I can tell you that for twenty years the boy at the lake has been dreaming of Nova. I think that is very interesting....
People trust me with their door keys; they should not. I wouldn't trust myself with anything if I could choose but here we are. I got her keys a few months ago and I insisted that she should keep them, but no. “You are my best friend, I trust you with my life. Why can't you have my house keys? " she asked. Although that's true, we have been best friends
all my life, she still shouldn't trust me. I know it sounds strange, but everything seems to be strange right now and it's okay! I'm going to tell you why I think so, do you trust me?...
Simon wasn't good at making friends. It was a trait he'd always tried to work on logically. He'd research what made other people popular and then try to replicate it. Needless to say, it hadn't worked. At twelve years old, he felt pretty pathetic for his lack of meaningful connections with anyone.
Then, a new kid had come to his school. Theo had messy
hair and he carried dirt in his pocket. Theo spoke with an accent none of them could place and looked at you with twinkling eyes crinkling with hidden knowledge. Theo was too weird to befriend and too aggressive to bully. Theo had wanted to be Simon's friend almost right away.
Theo's hand had been cold and dry when it clasped Simon's and shook it briskly. H...
Lucy Badura had a psychic ability as a small child. She could see things that no one else could. When she was five years old she saw a young Victorian girl with long black hair came out of the wall to talk to her for a while. She senses know that this is her spirit guide. There was framed black butterflies on the wall and she could of sworn they came alive
and there wings started flapping. This could of been more than her imagination. Sometimes at night she could see tiny figure's running backward and forwards in her bedroom. A tiny space ship with monkeys stepping out. Animals such as an elephant and a giraffe. Also a tiny house that when on flames. Lucy had forgotten all about it when she grew up but rememb...
Some people say that when you are about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. For me, I was waiting for that moment, pleading, begging, wishing for God to end my suffering. But, just as I felt my eyes start to get heavy and the darkness take over, I heard a voice. A voice that was all too familiar, a voice that I miss very deeply. “You are too
hard on yourself Ev! Give yourself some credit, God only gives you what he knows you can handle.” But I know this voice was only a mere speculation of my memories. I knew that I couldn’t give up. For him… For me. I knew that I had to find a way out of here, I can’t go out like this. I picked my head up from the cold metal table. My arms still binded ...
Soft gravel crunches under my flats as I head to work Saturday morning. It is late in the morning; the perfect time of day when the birds sing and the sun warms the sky. Bells jingle above the door to signal my arrival to the small café I work at. Cindy, my boss (but mostly my friend) welcomes me with a toothy smile. She is an older lady, but has a
young personality that always reminds me of a toddler opening a new toy. "Good morning, Mae!", she says brightly, coming in to hug me.
"That it is," I say as I flash her my own toothy smile and return her hug.
"I thought I told you not to come in today!" Cindy exclaims with a small, teasing punch to my arm. "You've worked the past week without a day ...
I opened my eyes. I told myself that it was a dream. and it was. but it was also terrifying. my brothers voice kept repeating "hold my hope, hold my hope." I never did know what he meant by that. As I poured myself a glass of water, I thought about that horrid night. he had been acting strange. hopeless and sad. then, at 11 o'clock at night, he shook me to
wake me up. then he looked me in the eye and told me to hold his hope. he sounded upset. even though he scared me, and I didn't know what he meant, I said okay. and then he left. the next day, we found him murdered with a note from someone called the hope stealer....
Every fiber in my body is falling apart, and I’m getting dizzy as the water starts to echo my lungs. I fight for air as thoughts race my unfaithful mind. “Will I make it?” My body starts to freeze and stiffin, and I wonder if I’m anywhere near the surface, but I wasn't. The water was no longer clear. Everything was black and quiet; I started to pray
in my head. “God please forgive me for my sins, for I have made many let this time of passing go with ease and let my famil-” I shut down, everything is blank, I think I’m dead.
My alarm goes off and as always I press snooze. Routinely, my mom comes in after my alarm goes off and wakes me up. I call her my second alarm, but her real name is Ashly. I...
I feel the brush of dewy leaves as I run in-between the woods.
Running, I can see flickers of brown and orange in my side view.
Running, I can smell a foul odor around me.
My mind asks "should I stop?"
I look back, he's there.
The pale rider.
He's far behind in the shadows, but that can soon change.
I can hear the hooves of his beast that he is
So I push forward.
I guess when it comes down to it I'm too scared to stop. ...
I pushed my way through the faceless crowd, those who surrounded me became a blur.
I do not remember where I was going, or how I ended up here all I remember is dying and waking up in someone else’s body.
I took a quick intake of air into my heaving lungs. I could smell my own fear, the sour scent of sweat and the smell of perfume.
I felt like
a wet dog with my hair so damp it stuck to the nape of my neck.
I squared my shoulders and tried on a smile. But I am sure my face took on a sickly shade of green. And my smile was more of a grimace. My gut twisted itself into knots
A figure stood in the shadows.
I pretended not to see it.
I quickened my pace but I did not run in fear of drawi...
I picked it up immediately without looking at the caller id.
"Hello?" I said while I continued typing on the laptop and putting the phone in loudspeaker. "Blaire? It's already late. Aren't you coming home, still?" Melody's voice emerge from my phone. She is my roommate slash best friend. "I still need to finish this report
for tomorrow's meeting. I'll be home in about-" I checked my time, "Twenty minutes."
"Oh you better hurry because g- part-." Her line was suddenly cracking up. "Melody, I can't clearly hear you. I'll call you when I'm going home." I ended the call.
Being the assistant editor at a magazine corporation is tough and I'm working on this project that I need to p...
Ava sat at the kitchen table, her math book and graphing calculator by her side. She was wearing headphones, but they weren't working right so she could hear her mother vacuuming in another room. She hated when her mother did that, and tried not to be home when her mother did the weekly cleaning, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. She liked doing her
school work in the kitchen. She could shut off the overhead light, and just use the natural lighting through the windows to see by. It was so much easier on her eyes and didn't give her a headache like the lights in the other rooms did. Her parents were understanding of her dislike for certain lights and kept saying they would change the bulbs to something better...