Fiction

We shift through the reeds, chests touching, foreheads resting on each other. Our hands become moist from being held together for so long. The breeze makes the large plane full of reeds click, nearly sounding like diamonds.

     Sarah made grunting noises as we passed the deli, I asked her why, yet she didn't answer me. It’s almost as if we’re tense every time we walk downtown. 

The sun shone bright in the sky. Its rays heated the fields, where there was a bunny hopping in the flowers. The bunny hopped by each flower, smiling as she passed each one.

Characters: 

Adrienne, high-school student, best friend of August, female, 15-17

August, high-school student, best friend of Adrienne, male, 15-17

 There is a theatre game, commonly played among high school students; as I know it, it is called "Honey, I love you, but I can't smile," which, the object of the game is to go around in a circle of peers and say something along the lines of "

Some say that in the winter, when the shadows are long and the bare branches of the trees reach out with long, crooked fingers, that that is when the dead come out. 

 On one scary night, my mom was kidnapped by Isaac. He seemed nice, but I'm not sure yet! Isaac decided to have a kid with my mom, that kid was Madelyn. My mom decided to kidnap me with Isaac and it was terrifying!

In a world where every digital breakthrough to age-old traditions stood as symbols of our progression, it wasn’t the advancements themselves that captivated us, but the revolution of our words.

I fly by the hallways, emptier than ever and I can hear chuckles from nearby classrooms. I love the outside, sure, but I love being inside just as much. There's no family to lecture me about how bad the high school is. Though it isn't.

I kneel down on the dewy grass,                            picking up a ladybug by the hand.

I wish it would stop. My parents screaming at eachother, things shattering as they're thrown to the floor, sirens blaring along the streets, and impatient car horns. It never ends.

     Late at night, my igloo is cozy and warm, unlike the Artic outside. Grandmum tucks me into bed, but doesn't leave just yet. She takes a seat on the edge of my bed, and prepares her story telling voice.