Oct 19

The Jump

The Jump
My feet crunched the snow as my thick boots led me toward the hill. It was mid-winter, a warmer day than most, and the tramping was making my forehead sweat. My friend Clementine was ahead of me, my short legs and puffy snowsuit weighing me down-and slowing me down. Finally, I reached the top of the hill. I sat down, not caring if my butt got wet or not. Mindlessly, my mittens picked up a ball of snow and packed it evenly. This was the best packing snow of the winter. It was the perfect mixture of wet and fluffy, a combination rare at least to Vermont. Judson, another friend, was thinking the same thing.
Dec 05

Ten Days of Winter, 1892

Editor's note: In the 11+ years of this site, I have shared only a couple of things on the belief that this is your site, not mine. But I am sharking this because, well, becaue I thought you might like to read/listen to it and, also, to see that some stories take a long time to develop. I'd love some feedback -- this is your chance! :) 

I wrote this piece of fiction for Winter Tales 2017 and it was presented by Vermont Stage in its shows Dec. 6-10, 2017 at FlynnSpace. (It also was going to be presented at a similar winter story show in East Montpelier on Dec. 16.)

Audio download:
TenDaysofWinter1892.mp3
Feb 13

The House

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on vermontwritesday.org on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)
Feb 13

The Pendant

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on vermontwritesday.org on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)

The old iron bell jangles as I step into the familiar shop. I wave to the owner, a kindly old gentleman, who smiles at me as he always does and says hello. He seems to appreciate my visits, even though I don't often buy anything. 

I make my way through a maze of old bookshelves and chairs, paintings, vases and other miscellaneous objects. I know almost all of it by memory and can tell whenever the store has sold something. 
Nov 15
flame's picture

Two People Fight

It was just a normal morning then I heard two people fighting but they weren’t hitting each other they were yelling at each other.
“ WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.”

“ WHY AM I LIKE THIS WELL LET’S SEE YOU WON’T DO ANYTHING YOU ARE TOLD.”

“ WHAT MOM. OH AM I WHEN YOU ARE ALWAYS JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT. EVER THOUGHT OF THAT?”

“ NO. BUT WHY SHOULD I?”
But no one would go up to their house and ask them to stop fighting.
“ OH MY GOSH MOM. HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF WAITING FOR ME TO DO IT INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR LIKE A SECOND AND THEN JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT?”

“ NO I HAVEN’T AND WHY SHOULD I, YOU WON’T DO IT.”

“ WELL IF YOU GIVE ME TIME MOM AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION IT REALLY HURTS MY FEELINGS WHEN YOU JUMP DOWN MY THROAT ABOUT SOMETHING.”

“ oh darling I never thought that you felt that way I’m sorry sweety will you ever forgive me?”

“ yes mom I forgive you.”
Nov 15
zazu's picture

the only two left

"Why didn't you tell me that the world was going to end today?"
"Because I didn't know."
"Liar. This is all your fault!"
"It isn't my fault, you're just angry. we're both having to suffer."
"No. Only I am having to suffer here."
"You're so self-centered sometimes!"
"I just want things to go back to the way that they were before."
"I just wish that the world weren't over. That we weren't living in...
"This?"
"Yeah."
"Me too."
 

Nov 15

Favorite Scents

The air held the aroma of fall scents. The scent of caramel filled one part of the room, while another had the scent of apple cinnamon. Men and women rushed around in the kitchen, sometimes yelling for something. Sounds of pans crashing together, sizzling fryers, boiling pots, and most of all, the chatter of the patrons. Regulars, critics, and newcomers were all welcome to the warm and inviting reds and yellows of the restaurant. You could hear some customers compliment the food, saying that it tasted like their mother had made it. Others were downright picky about every little on their plate. No matter, the warm and sweet scents around the brought a calm and relaxing setting even with all the craziness. The smell of fall is truly wonderful.
 
Nov 15
samuelcorti's picture

the argument

Fighting words

Samuel corti
    I walked into the Library one day and Tobin Durham was also in the library. He was checking out a book and I was going to take a book test and get a new book as well. We just had our last cross country meet of the season last Saturday and we are both very stubborn people. I beat Tobin at that meet and he didn’t want to admit it. Kelean who hadn’t be able to be at that meet because of ski practice had walked up to us and asked us what we were arguing about I told him we were arguing about the race last Saturday. He wanted to know what happened because Tobin who had had some close calls with me almost beating him before hasn’t told his brothers or parents ha he got beat by me so I told Kelean what had happened han he immediately agreed with me that I beat him. So it kept going and oddly enough there wasn’t any swearing and the librayans didn’t notice it was going on.
    The argument was like this Tobin
Nov 14
lana.W's picture

Ginger Jam

"I always thought you used fresh ginger..."

"No no no, Lana-Rose," Jaja pats my hand, "Candied ginger. Good thing I’m teaching you now, or else you’d have some very spicy jam.”
Every year my grandmother used to send us a jar of ginger jam with a box of oranges. I ate that stuff on everything. One year, I went to Florida to visit her. I was so excited because I would finally be learning how to make this illustrious ginger jam.
“It’s THAT simple?”

“Yeah. Just boil the ginger long enough to get all the preservatives out, then you just blend it.”

“Hm. I always thought it was so good, so it must be really difficult.”

“You and Tante Sylvie, you love that jam. You know she will have jam with anything! A ham sandwich, sopropo, she’s crazy.”

I chuckle a little, “I guess the best things in life are simple.”
Nov 14
Paigebrammell2022's picture

Ruby

“Give it back!” Alison yells as she tries to rip her doll, Ruby, out of her older brothers tight grasp. He yanks it back, weakening her grasp even further. After a few tugs back in forth, he fully pulls it out of her hands. He triumphantly laughs and yells “Never!” Holding the doll up to the ceiling. Before he feels too pleased with himself she tackles him. Knocking him to the ground. He still holds the doll in his hands. She catches on of its plastic arms as he rolls over, causing it to tear off. She looks at the arm stunned. Her brother runs over. “I can fix this.” he reaches over to grab the arm.

    “You ruined my life!” she yells in his face as she bursts out crying.

“I didn’t mean to.”
Nov 14
Bookworm's picture

Beach Views

I stand facing the sea, breathing in the warm ocean air. I close my eyes and imagine myself at home, in California, paddling on my surfboard to catch a ride on the next wave. The wind blows around me, throwing my blond hair back and forth, whipping my face at times. If only I can stay like this forever.
"Veronica!" Isabella calls me. I turn to face her as she walks towards me. Her brown hair billows out behind her in the wind from the ocean.
"What?" I yell over the noise of wind, seagulls, and people. Once she's five steps away from me, she stops and rests her hands on her hips, her signature pose.
"We're going now," she says, her Spanish accent flowing beautifully over the words. Sometimes, her words are a little clipped, but I always understand her. She's been taking English lessons ever since elementary school.
"Already? Didn't we just get here?" I ask. I swear we just got here not even five minutes ago.

Nov 14

Ridiculous Hall

The blood rises in their faces. Sweat leaves their palms clammy. Breathing grows more rapid, opening their mouths to argue.
"I just can't believe YOU think I'M the angry one!" They yells, fuming at the thought.
"YES" Zi screams, "I'm not angry and YOU are!" The hairs on Zi's neck are on end.
They stomps their foot, as if to say 'Why don't you get it?!?!' They takes a deep breath and then shouts "I'M NOT ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Glass is heard shattering somewere around them, but they takes no notice.
"NOOOOOOOOOO" Zi rasps, sore throated and still infuiriated, "YOU ARE!!!".
Then as suddenly as it started, both stop stamping and screaming. They stare, as if in a daze.
It dawned on the duo what had just occured. To this day it is Rididulous Hall.
Nov 13
joseph.deffner's picture

A Recipe from the Heart


The small white sign in the distance grew bigger and bigger as I walked. When I got closer I could make out the small black letters that I knew so well. It read “Blueberry Hill.” That’s one of the things I loved about living here - all the old houses had names, including Grandma’s. When Mom and I moved here I was sad because our house didn’t have a name. Most kids’ favorite day of the year is Christmas, but not me. Every August fifteenth I go to Grandma’s house and we pick blueberries together. It used to be her, me and Grandpa, but he passed away a few year ago. When I got to the door to her house I knocked loudly. After a few seconds she opened the door. Her pepper hair was frazzled and I could see clumps of flour in her bangs. She smiled up at me and said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” I said, eager to begin.
Nov 13
fiction 0 comments challenge: Power
Bookworm's picture

Superhero Powers

Superpowers are granted to all 7.6 billion people on Earth.  
I read the headline in awe, trying to make sense of what it said. It wasn't until the second time I read it that I finally understood.
All humans get superpowers!
Millions have already requested for their powers, but many powers become ineffective due to multiple people wanting the same power. Officials tell citizens to choose wisely or risk losing their powers. 
I couldn't believe the newspaper article. How were people getting these powers? I really wanted to know - I had an idea of what I wanted. The newspaper article said to call 555-8473. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number, dropping the rest of the newspaper except for the page with the article.
"Hello, you've reached the Department of Human Affairs. Please state your name, number, location, and your concern," a friendly, womanly voice said over the phone.

Nov 13

Addie Card

Addie Card was nine years old when she started working in a mill in VT. Her parents were always working and never had time for her and barely any money.  She didn’t have a fun childhood, and only celebrated her birthday with a few pieces of food with the very small amount of money they had.

Her dad was Carter Card, and mother was Anne Card, and they only had simple meals. These meals consisted of much bread, and noodles. They lived on the bare minimum. Addie goes to work at seven in the morning and leaves at six at night, making only three dollars a day. Addie gets through, and is very brave. She will never give up. She wants to have a good family, with a good job to food her family.

 
Nov 13
fiction 0 comments challenge: Club
cksls's picture

Weird Club

After school I walk to the library were I was told to go. I was really nervous and excited. I see all of the new recruits waiting around, pacing awkwardly back and forth in front of the building. After about ten minutes of waiting I saw ten hooded figures and I couldn’t see their faces.

The group and I followed them without a word. They went into a unused room and turned off the lights. They had weird red colored filters on their flashlights, which was freaky. I didn’t feel comfortable, but I told myself I’d probably never get this chance again. I wished I could have known who the people were, but I just couldn’t tell. They moved in very abrupt and rigid movements. They then carried a bag and told us to put everything that we had in the bags. None of us dared to question why. Our wallets, money and phones went in the bag.
Nov 13
Nora.F's picture

Picking Berries


We hike we laugh and we talk. We reach the top of the hill where the berries grow as far as the eye can see. We pick for hours and compare the pounds and pounds of juicy ripe berries. We climb down the bank and back to the vehicle. Pile in to the old beat up truck that only gets used when we come up this awfully maintained road. The truck squeals to a start and we begin to roll down the road back to the house. Each bump we hit the truck rears and groans as if it is in pain.

We pull in the drive to the dog barking and chasing chickens through the gardens. We all pile out and go into the house rinse the berries and begin to make my mom's famous wild berry jam. We wash our hands and get the pots out.

“Put the berries in the pot and then run downstairs and grab the jars and the big bag of sugar” says mom.
Nov 12

Nature Trail


The birds sing loudly as I walk down the old beaten path, leaves and twigs, being crushed and snapped under the sole of my boot. The squirrels scurrying around the ground looking for nuts to survive the winter. The sound of the cicadas who have emerged from the ground and are seeing above the soil for the first time in seventeen years. The trees are overlooking the whole forest, towering over everything, only the birds can reach heights taller than them, the guardians of the forests. The ant colonies scurrying to find food for their queen and young, marching in almost perfect lines across the trail, ignoring anything that might walk across them. As I walk down the trail, I stop at a stream, the water rushing down hill, if you lean closer to the water's edge you can see the water striders glide effortlessly atop the water. If you look below the striders you can see schools of tiny minnows seemingly lost as they dart randomly in the clear water.
Nov 09
fiction 1 comment challenge: Club

This guy asked me to join his club


"Mate, this guy just asked me yesterday if I wanted to join his club."


"Woah, what'd ya say?"


"Well obviously I asked him what it was about, you know?"


"Don't tell me it was some kinda cult or somethin' freaky like that."


"Geez no, he said it was a book club."


"Oh yeah? Sounds chill."


"And the I asked him if you could come, cause I thought you would love to go."


"Aww that's sweet."


"But then this jerk is like "No way your friend's got issues" 


"UM RUDE"


"I KNOW"


"WHERE IS HE IM GONNA WHOOP HIS A**"


"DON'T EVEN WORRY MATE I SMACKED HIM ALL THE WAY TO KANSAS"


"Haha oml, thanks for that"


"No problem mate, anyone that's got beef with you has got beef with me"
Nov 09
m.fredella's picture

A rainy night


            Cold rain pelts my face as I jog down the empty street. It soaks my clothes and chills me to the bone. I’m not dressed for this weather, I have to hold my long black dress up while I jog carefully, balancing on tall heels. My hair sticks to the side of my face and I squint, trying to figure out where I am. I don’t recognise the tall crumbling buildings around me, or the old cracked street signs. The buildings don’t exactly look welcoming, but I need to get out of this weather or I’ll freeze. Ducking under a fence and squeezing through a small opening on a boarded up door, I manage to get inside one of the less broken down and dilapidated buildings.