He walked to the other side of the grand room, inching closer to the tall dark brown cabinet, and reached for the pack of markers. He examined the markers, trying to find one that matched perfectly.
After a few moments Luke came running through the hallway and into Christopher’s room, barely sidestepping past a red toy car. “How’s this?” He
questioned, handing Christopher both markers.
“Hmm” Christopher closely examined, “It’s close enough.” He turned to the board, and filled in the words. Luke watched, almost holding his breath. “Well, it's done.” Christopher turned to him, handing the finished product over. Luke stared, silently.
The lines on Ryan King's face were prominent and his glasses pressed squarely against his dull blue eyes. The front of his greasy, short grey hair was thinning, and what was left of it was combed to the side. He wore an olive green jacket over a white t-shirt with faded blue denim jeans…
“Trick or Treat” Luke smiled, holding out his bag.
there” The man spoke beady-eyed. “What’s your name?”
“Luke” He grinned, “What’s yours?” “My name is Ryan.” Luke noticed Ryan’s eyebrows were clusters of grey hair with streaks of brown, the color that they once were.
Ryan scanned Luke from head to toe, head faintly tilting. “Are you dressed as Marty McFly? From Back to the...
The sun dipped below the horizon, shielded behind mountains of navy blue. Dense and slow moving fog, wrapped itself around the mountains and through the forest of trees. The sky above blushed with slate purple, tainted with grey clouds that promised damp October weather. It reflected onto the rippled, bottomless lake. Below the mountains, scattered through
the evergreens, were homes, the small town of Ashbourne, and engulfed in more trees, stood a radio tower radiating crimson.
Leaves scattered across a stone driveway, leading up to an ample home. It sat on top of a stubby hill, surrounded by many trees. The home’s white and grey tones were complimented by the chestnut trim, which encased every door and w...
I invited my friends to my new apartment to have dinner and decided to watch a movie after we ate. The scenes in the movie were very thrilled and my best friend suddenly screamed. We heard a knock on the wall from my neighbor's room telling us that were too loud and it's already 1 in the morning. I tried to check on them by the next day to ask for an
apology, but it seems that no one's home.
A week passed and my friends decided to have a sleepover on my apartment for our next month's exam. Before we went to sleep, one of my friend accidentally knock over the vase on the table. We then heard a bang on the wall again from someone next door.
After the exam, they decided to stay in my place again to celebrat...
when i first saw you, i noticed the bleak emptiness behind your skin. i saw the pain oozing out from your eyes like blood; it filled the air with its bitter presence, cloaking you within its ominous warmth and robbing you of the pride i can tell you once held dear. you looked so perfect: a beautifully broken boy, pieces of yourself scattered like the stars
embedded in the night sky and i just knew that i had to save you from drowning.
you didn't know that i was watching you from across the dimly lit bar.
i didn't know that you'd destroy me.
**NOTE to any readers**
sorry this was so short - i think its up to you to decide what happens next. but just a quick heads up that this wasn't designed for th...
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 ...