Fiction

The scribe set down his quill, noticing that the feather was translucent. In the Between, quills changed colors depending on the amount of ink left in the writing utensil. The quill was almost unusable, when it turned that color.

A frail professor paced back and forth across the classroom, waiting for the class to file in and sit in their respective seats. He was excited; an interesting lesson was coming up. 

Start Scene

Future Della, a girl with black hair cut short, looks up. She does a double take when she realizes that she isn’t in her bedroom. 

“Hi, Viktor! I didn’t think that I’d see you here!” 

Dear Diary, 

It was burning. 

The temperature had to be at least 100 degrees. 

It was so hot that it muddled my mind, coating my thoughts in molasses. 

It’s close to the holiday time. Everyone is festive, joyful. 

In my Gram's kitchen,

behind the table,

there is a butter barrel.

One of those big wooden ones you would use in the 1950's.

5 summers ago,

my brother made butter in that barrel.

    The last time I saw Her.  It feels so much more final to say it that way, but I guess it’s the same outcome either way.  When I think about it logically, I can understand that She’s never coming

Thunder roared in the dark night sky, lightning the only source of light. Rain fell hard onto the roof like bullets, screams of terror throughout the city.

Day 201: July 10th, 2119

My roadtrip is different than the average.

Unless, I suppose, you consider water a road.

My friend's home is beautiful. 

It's got green walls with flowers all over. The floor is soft and plush. It's warm but only in summer, and it's too cold in winter. But my friend likes it just fine.