Fiction

Once, when we were very young, we went out to catch butterflies. Your father had given you a butterfly net for your birthday and the early summer air was warm and full of bugs. We walked down the old dirt road.

6 am- I get up, grab my suitcase, and head to the Burlington airport. On the plane, I write emails, texts, and make phone calls to my friends and family.

The unexplained may be scary. Some may find it intriguing. 3 days ago, that's when it happened. I'm Mitchell Tye, and recently a man walked up to me. He said, "Hello, young one." Me being me, I don't trust strangers.

Catherine watched the girl from afar. She gazed at her, confused as to why someone so fancy, so wealthy would come to their small town. Her breath fogged up the cold window and she peered through the smudged window at the young woman.

We mold the world with not only what we do, but also with what we don’t do.
 

The wind races, blowing my hair into my face. Here, on this mountain top, I feel unstoppable. Looking down to the forests of rough oaks, spikey pines, and sweet maples. Down at the suburban rooftops, flat, slanted.

If you can learn to love everyone than you will last longer than us. 
 

Do not let honesty, love, and peace be overcome by lies, hatred, and war. 
 

Johnny was moving into his new house with his parents. It was an old creaky house without any electricity. They moved to this house because Johnny’s father got a new job and their old house was too far away.

     It was cold.

This is the story of Bloodpaw. Evil, bloodthirsty, somehow painless, grey cat. He has ravaged villages and clans, and even with all his cuts, gashes, and scars he still stands. Born weak and sickly his parents assumed best to abandon him completely.