Fiction

Somewhere in the woods generations in the past, there was a person who wanted to build a life for themselves. So they bravely ventured into a land of great cedar and oak, which they thought could bear fruit all year long.

After they arrived at the train station in the middle of nowhere, getting off of the bus was an awful drag. It was sluggish, slow, and the fleeting flocks of people turned into deep, hurling crowds.

Sam and Willa lay on their backs in the overgrown grass of his yard, her describing the shape of the clouds for him to paint as a picture in his head. 

The bus to the Bellingham Amtrak Train Station was long and grueling; nothing short of a suffocation chamber for its passengers that day. Crowded, overlapping voices.

I’m sorry, but what does he think C.I.A. stands for? Clowns institutional- alright. I have nothing for the A, but you get my point. He flunked all of his training, but since his Dad was a former agent, they let him through!

Beep… Beep… Beep…

It's late when I pull into this town. the square is lively as my car sputters stop feet away from vision.

its a party. the people of the town running around and around and around, with carrots potatoes tomatoes everything the town has

Submission for next years challenges-

Write about something bittersweet, or a similar duality of feelings.

I didn’t plan on spending my Thursday evening staring into the abyss, but there I was, white-knuckled gripping onto the doorknob. It was quiet inside, felt like you could yell and it would never bounce back to you.

Part 2

You wake up in a white room. Not really a room, exactly, but it is a space. You think. You are there, so it must be, right? In front of you is a couch with a person on it.

I put my turn signal on and pull off of the pavement. I open my car door and breathe in the spring air. I see new leaves, green, on the trees, and potholes that I dodge and jump as I start skipping.