Fiction

The bus to the Bellingham Amtrak Train Station was long and grueling; nothing short of a suffocation chamber for its passengers that day. Crowded, overlapping voices.

I’m sorry, but what does he think C.I.A. stands for? Clowns institutional- alright. I have nothing for the A, but you get my point. He flunked all of his training, but since his Dad was a former agent, they let him through!

Beep… Beep… Beep…

It's late when I pull into this town. the square is lively as my car sputters stop feet away from vision.

its a party. the people of the town running around and around and around, with carrots potatoes tomatoes everything the town has

Submission for next years challenges-

Write about something bittersweet, or a similar duality of feelings.

I didn’t plan on spending my Thursday evening staring into the abyss, but there I was, white-knuckled gripping onto the doorknob. It was quiet inside, felt like you could yell and it would never bounce back to you.

Part 2

You wake up in a white room. Not really a room, exactly, but it is a space. You think. You are there, so it must be, right? In front of you is a couch with a person on it.

I put my turn signal on and pull off of the pavement. I open my car door and breathe in the spring air. I see new leaves, green, on the trees, and potholes that I dodge and jump as I start skipping.

Perfection- it has taken over the lives of millions of teenagers.

Expectations of perfection from parents, teachers, guardians, random people you've never even met, classmates, friends, and even yourself. 

It was a small bracelet; it was black and braided rope, with the words “ I love you forever” on it.  My mom gave it to me on my 15th birthday. She didn't make a big deal about it. She just smiled and wrapped it around my wrist.

A month in the mountains. By yourself. What if someone comes to your camp? What if a bear attacks you? All these thoughts flooded her head as she pulled up to the bottom of the mountain. No buildings, all trees.