Adventure
Runaway
When I was small I would crave the silence of the woods. Inside there was all the fighting. My parents with one another. My mother battling her demons. My brother telling my mother he would not go to school, would not do his homework, would not take the dog out.
By Kat Averyheart4 years ago in Fiction
Graffiti
Crumbled brick and chipped mortar littered the ground of the library and mazed through the sodden books and shelves that were now turned to shrapnel. Vanilla, and sweet grass perfumed the air along with the musk of dirt and gunpowder. The library used to be a refuge for Nero when he was a boy. Now, it was a refuge again, and a makeshift hideout in his attempt to survive. He wasn’t a soldier; he was different, and his strengths weren’t of the physical type. He had a mind that many would envy, however, others saw him as damaged.
By Myiah L Bengston4 years ago in Fiction
Hunting Carina
Chapter 1 Her long legs pumped as she ran down the old country road. She could feel her body falling into a steady rhythm and her mind began to wonder. She loved it out here. There wasn’t a soul for miles and with it no pressure from anyone, not her coach or her mother. She felt it was the only place she could truly be herself.
By Julie D Bergman4 years ago in Fiction
Cyril's Story
When it was a cash only society, and cash was hard to come by, especially in the country, a time of people physically working harder, needing and having less, a time when lives were controlled by season, and community. Folks lived in houses built by an earlier generation, and passed to the next. One generation lived pretty much as their parents before them.
By Judith Baxter4 years ago in Fiction
An Unlikely Pair
I grew up like any other domestic cat. I was served fresh water, food, and all the affection for which any animal on earth would beg. Mrs. Moore, an elderly woman who was in desperate need of a companion after the death of her husband, adopted me, and for seven years I lived under her protection. Six months ago, however, she suffered a stroke and with her death, I lost the only family I had. I was the only one there for her, too; she was dead for two days before her only son bothered to visit. After her funeral, it seemed the son was more concerned with his mother’s belongings than with the physical loss of her. It didn’t take long for him to settle in the house, selling everything valuable and abandoning the rest. The custom picture that hung on the living room wall and featured me and Mrs. Moore curled up jointly on the couch was my sole reminder of her, and when her son threw out the painting and replaced it with an ornamental antique shotgun and several hunting pictures, my lifelong home seemed alien and uncomfortable.
By Christopher Russell4 years ago in Fiction
RETURN OF THE NIGHT OWL
RETURN OF THE NIGHT OWL Winters chill roamed the room. The softness of my blue fleece blanket wrapped my body and I refuse to get out of bed, thinking to myself, I have exactly thirty minutes before the sun comes up and I have to get out the door into the freezing snow, And to school I could hear the commotion downstairs as everyone was running around trying to make it to school on time. I'm always the last one. School is six miles away so there's no need to rush. Finally the courage to place my feet onto the ice frozen floor boards I could see my breath as I yawned. Frightened by a loud bang on my window. I jumped. Paused in confusion I tip toed over to look out. There's nothing but a brown barn owl.
By Melissa Marie Federico4 years ago in Fiction
So Quick
Her stomach didn’t hurt anymore. Maybe her head was even beginning to clear. She blinked, tried to focus on anything nearby. Was that a fluttering of wings she was hearing, perhaps an owl was swooping down to say hello—like the ones so often seen in the barn they would meet in after school…why wasn’t she in school—but it hurt too much to focus, and the fluttering was gone anyway. She closed her eyes back tight, and hoped that might make things better.
By Jonathan L. Rutan4 years ago in Fiction
The Botanist
Once upon an ever-living age, there was a botanist hidden far within the Muir Woods above a city carved into the hillsides. She had adopted recluse ideals becoming a cast away by choice. To her the city was tiresome and silly, people had left nature behind to focus on what made them feel alive, not what kept them alive. So she threw herself head first into her work, becoming acquainted with every plant she could.
By Samuel Minniefield4 years ago in Fiction
