Adventure
The Labyrinth
The stone walls had that clammy quality that made them seem alive, sweating. This prison was like some living, breathing thing that had swallowed men whole. Rusty, metal bars, it’s rancid teeth. Tomas sat slumped in the corner, observing those around him with narrowed eyes. Every so often he’d scratch nervously at bristles emerging on a face once kept religiously smooth. He wondered what he’d expected when going into war. It seemed so long ago and so childishly ridiculous, the hopes and visions he’d had, that they’d melted clean out of his memory.
By Nessy Writer5 years ago in Fiction
July in Northern England
I stood at the wooden fence, the English summer sun beating down on me. Despite the sunshine, it was a brisk morning. I was wearing gray sweatpants tucked into Steph’s Wellington boots. The dirt path through the countryside was muddy from the drizzle the night before.
By Amy Writes5 years ago in Fiction
Bulls in the China Shop
Hello, my name is Byron. Why does that matter? We'll get to that. Today is a big day. Today, I finally get to compete. I grew up hearing stories of my brothers competing once they were old enough. But I am the youngest, and nobody ever thought that I'd compete. Perhaps I could own a field, and graze to my heart's content. Or maybe I could be sold onto a farm. Sometimes, my brothers even joked that I could end up in trouble, breaking things in a China Shop. But all that doesn't matter anymore, because today, I actually get to compete.
By Kaytlynn Rose5 years ago in Fiction
Deserted
I’m not sure how I got here. Well, I’m not sure how I am the only one that got here. The sun beats down on my pale face. The hot sand burns my toes. This place would be paradise if I weren’t stuck here. Three months ago was when this whole mess started. A book review led me to a book about traveling to exotic places, and that book got me stranded on a deserted island. Okay, this was not directly the book’s fault, but trying to travel to exotic paradises on a budget gets you an illusion of a cruise on a falling apart fishing boat.
By Chelsea Westbrook5 years ago in Fiction
A Woman and Her Van
In the forests of the Rocky Mountains, long days of summer descended into cooler nights and darker evenings. Sunset crept forward on the clock, and I found myself sleeping longer hours. The desert heat became more and more appealing as September passed into October. Part of me longed to go, the other part seemed incapable of moving on. I wanted to recapture that day in the sun—to prove that Colorado had been the escape I’d been seeking, not Landon.
By Christine Reed5 years ago in Fiction
