Fiction

Je suis un corbeau avec un plumage noir. J’aime les bijoux. J’aime aller au parc. Je vois une femme avec un collier. Je veux le collier.

Alors, je fondre sur elle et prendre le collier. Je suis un content corbeau!

 My little girl's body ran after wild animals, not caring about if I had to look cool or if I got all sweaty. Now I check my hair before going out and make sure I spray my perfume too many times to hide the smell of sweat or odor.

It’s dark, where I am. Not cold, for cold gives you solace. Not hot, as in a hammer striking molten iron to make a sword. Not warm, pointlessly and deliberately harsh and itchy.

She sat on the steps, enjoying the brisk autumn air. It was the day before Halloween and the smell of cinnamon hung in the air. She knew she’d have to go in soon, but for now life was perfect.

Hand in hand we walked down the path, littered with colorful leaves. A gust of wind swirled the leaves around us. Encompassing us in our own little world. I looked up, the trees bent over us with shades of red, orange and yellow.

The streets were bright and alive, much larger than in previous months. The air, was filled with so much heat you could practically see it.

My name is Rudolph Hinselmen. I’m 15. I’m from District 1. My name is Rudolph Hinselmen. I’m 15.

Pikeville, Kentucky was small, but Zach and Ben were smaller. Bullets on bikes, zipping around, everywhere at once. Always there for dinner, but gone before the first dish made it into the sink.

She ambled down the dark sidewalk, her long trench coat billowing like a flag on a pole. It was cold. But not too cold. Too cold, contrary to popular belief, isn’t productive weather. No one worked nearly as they should.

The man in the suit wasn’t okay. He was by all means, not okay. And he wasn’t going to pretend that he was. He had been shifting between the worlds far too much.

Ray climbed up the old rusty ladder that led him out of his underground protective tomb. He knew nothing of what awaited at the top of this ladder that led to a new land that he only knew from old children's rhymes.

At last, school is over. Finally I am released by these awful white walls and artificial light.