Mar 21
Modeltrains's picture

Treetop to Treebottom

     Even as I pinched myself, I could feel my eyelids drooping. My eyes fluttered shut. They didn’t stay that way for long though, because just as I was nodding off, I felt myself falling out of the tree. In panic I barely caught a branch on my way down. I climbed back up the tree, and struggled to find a comfortable position. As I sat in that tree, peering into the distance, sunset approaching, a flash of light caught my eye. A car with its low-angled headlights was racing down the road. The pressure was on. I reached for the grappling hook in my belt, steadied my hand, and aimed at the road. A second car, stirring up dust, chased the first car down the road. Just as the car neared the open zone in the trees I fired the grappling hook. It hissed through the air until I heard metal meet metal. I was yanked out of the tree, following the grappling hook to the car’s tire. The wire caught on a tree, and the car was held fast.
Jan 04
poem 0 comments challenge: I Like
Modeltrains's picture

Snow Day


I like snow slowly trickling down out of the sky, as I bundle up, ready for the snow day
I like the smell of the steaming hot chocolate
I like the feel of the light snow, as I shovel a path to the end of the driveway
I like shoveling four driveways straight, and then coming inside for a break
I like the sound the snow makes as it hits driveways, a soft cha-ching in my mind 
I like going skiing in the afternoon, up the mountain, up the chairlift, down the mountain, repeat
I like when the snow is wetter, ready for a snowball fight
I like feeling exhausted at the end of the day 
I like snow slowly ceasing to come down from the sky, as I take of my dripping jacket; another snow day
Oct 26
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House of Mystery


     There’s one in every neighborhood. The house with the rusted shutters, the windows that you swear are crooked just a little to the left, and the peeling siding that reveals the once-upon-a-time-a-witch-flew-out-the-wall holes. This is also the house that the two children down the street dared to enter, and never came back (or did they go to boarding school?) All the towns folk look the other way as they walk briskly down the other side of the street, and even the old lady, whose door is always the one slammed shut with the “no solicitations” sign on it on Halloween, manages to clamp her lips a little bit tighter as she hobbles down the barely cobbled street. 
Jun 08
Modeltrains's picture

The Candy Factory

     I ran up those stairs, at top speed, gasping deeply, barely catching the fresh scent of chopped pine branches lying on the forest floor, mixed with the buttery scent of caramel wafting down from the clouds. I glanced up every few seconds as I ran up those steep, spiraling stairs. As I ran, the stairs disappeared behind me. I grasped the thick wooden handrails, and finally reached up to the massive oak door with the brass knocker in the shape of a package of candy. With a mighty lurch, I swung the door open. I was faced with marvelous fountains, the trunks of giant trees, and more grand doors and hallways than I could count. Anyone else would have been stunned, but I was used to it. I had lived in this palace of all palaces, floating like an airplane among the clouds, for 12 years now. Without even thinking, I dashed to the center tree and twisted one of the branches. Part of the trunk swung open, forming a door.
Mar 23
fiction 1 comment challenge: Attic
Modeltrains's picture

The Incident

     I walked up those mold-ridden steps and reached the landing. Stuff was strewn everywhere. I walked to the corner where a flea-bitten curtain covered most of a cracked window. I pulled away the curtain and enough light for me to see half of the room came in. I was in my grandmother's house. It had been seven months since “the incident,” and I was finally exploring the rest of my grandmother's house.             There was a small box in the corner. It was fairly new, unlike most of the junk piled up there. I looked outside the window, and a bird flew to the once-bright yellow bird feeder- my grandma’s bird feeder. I felt like I had a whole rain storm in my eyes. I couldn't bear to come back. Just as I was leaving, I saw writing on the small box. It was blue and loopy. I could tell it was my grandmother's writing. It took a moment to remember that it was the same ink from my grandmother's new pen she still had in her pocket when “the incident” had happened. I suddenly felt tense.
Nov 09
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The Party


     It was a hot summer day. The train rumbled up to the station. Shirley stepped off the train with three things in her bag: a notebook, a picture, and a loaded handgun. Shirley cast a fugitive look over her shoulder and briskly walked towards a tall building with mirror-like windows. The door of the building opened and Shirley jumped. A  man stepped onto the sidewalk.
     “Hello Mrs. Ferguson,” the impeccably dressed plump man said confidently. 
     The man ambled down the street, now looking shifty-eyed. Shirley surveyed her surroundings, and then took off after the man. A gray van idled on the side of the street. The plump man jumped in the car, and whispered something to the driver. The driver looked in the car mirror, and then hit the gas. Shirley whistled and a cab screeched to a halt. Shirley yanked open the cab door, and hopped inside, clutching her bag tightly. 
     “Follow that car!” cried Shirley.