Fiction

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. 

Here’s the thing about being a boat: your quality of life depends entirely upon the humans who take care of you. As for me, I suppose I’m lucky. They haven’t traded me out for another, even though I’m old and my motor doesn’t work much.

I work at the front desk in an art museum.

It's more exciting than you'd think.