Fiction

   “AELIA, Come back inside!” I shouted. I chase after her running into the rain. 

   “AELIA!” “AELIA!” Worrying, I run deeper into the woods. 

“ I have a story to tell you!” a voice says, you will lift up your head from your damp hands. An old man is smiling at you from the end of the bench, he sits politely as he clings to his walking stick.

The sun was setting, casting an amber glow over the street as I waited on the worn wooden bench at the bus stop. My eyes were drifting along the cracks in the pavement when I noticed someone sitting down beside me.

In Wraiths Academy, far from the embrace of the sun’s rays of warmth, shrouded in an impenetrable armor of bristling willows, there was a boy. A peculiar boy.

 As my classmates and I are dismissed from school, I decide to take the long way to my bus stop. For I have quite some thinking to do. I watch the birds fly. The squirrels scrambling for shelter as the howling wind picks up.

"I have a story to tell."

The bench is cold as glass and the fog strings its way across the street,

an engulfing mass of smokey water.

The bus is late.

"Woo-hoo!

Losing Selena

Lost. Afraid. Scared. These words describe the beginning of my life as an enslaved person in the United States. 

I remember the last time I walked home by myself. 

Aubrey Rose Blake was not one to back down. Especially when it came to a bet with Xander Ray Miller. They were seeing who could find the most hidden doors in the Miller mansion.

     Larry Luria was not the type to march over to a stranger, introduce his hand to shake, and offer his business card. Heck, he didn’t even have the money to make a business card.

    He was an obnoxiously smooth driver.