Fiction

There once lived a boy who was 11 years old. His parents were never at home and they never cared about what he did. This caused him to become a spoiled kid. His name is Jordan.

        Lex and Kyle are siblings who shared a dream: to become superheroes. They would spend hours flipping through comic books while their parents discussed the intricacies of fine wine.

It's quiet. Just the rumbling of the car. My friend is asleep next to me, their head on my shoulder. I open the windows. The breeze is nice and cool and rustles my hair. As soon as the window is open, it reveals the sound of crickets.

Grandma used to make lemonade.

It wasn't hot for once. Ohio remains hot every summer but the night seems to be like cold water poured over a fire pit:

the heat lightens up but the smoke of it hangs in the air, the remnants of what it was before.

You and me, hand in hand like always. From the moment I met you, I’ve felt safe and I can’t really explain why. Maybe it’s the way your whole face smiles when I round the corner, maybe it’s the way we are always laughing.

“Mama, will you tell me my story again?” Asks the little girl in my lap.

Silence, loud, deafening silence. I can’t look her in the eyes, but I can’t rip mine away, so I stare. It’s not awkward or anything, I mean she’s staring too.

There was cedar in the beginning and then there were candy canes. 

“Lizzyyyy….,” said Marie, twisting her chair around. “I thought I told you to get new shoes,” Marie says. Lizzy looks down at her shoes, caked with dirt and grime, broken from the hours she spent working on her family’s farm.

On that night, I stole the stars of the galaxy. Billions of them, each one unique, and put them into her eyes.

The fiery sunset gleamed in the heart of the evening while the sparkling rain reflected its capturing glow.