I wake up early at 5:00 A.M. it's still dark out. Full of excitement I say, "Today is Saturday and I can watch my cartoons!"
I run downstairs and turn on the TV and make sure the volume is low so I don't wake up the rest of the house.
it was cold as the wind blew. it's bitter touch stinging her cheeks. it's breath uninvited kissing her skin. She shiverd as she walked unaware of the direction she was going. Her small feet daintily dancing across the pavement.
Once upon a time, by a small cottage in a meadow, filled with summer flowers and corn, children played. Their names were “Jack and Sally”. Their father, Greg, was a farmer and built their cottage from the trees in the nearby forest long ago.
It was October, but Margo was still wearing short summer skirts. Her bulky swear fell over the skirt in a perfect wave and her bangs covered most of her eyes, although the rest was only shoulder length.
The tiny lights along the edge of the cabin framed our faces in pale yellow light. We stood there. Not a word was spoken. The crickets played their notorious song in harmony with the loons to fill the silence.
He was in the middle of the pine trees, their scent mingled with wet dirt. I could see him just breathing these shallow, exaderated breaths as if doing so would make it real.
The barracks were full of women. Tall, short, middle-aged down to teen and back up to seventy. Women, all dressed identically in long, thick tunics, black, white, or grey, depending on your rank.
Somehow before I even opened my eyes I knew I was in the Silver Lake Woodlands. I could tell from the crisp smell of the air and the cool breeze that stung my face.