It was the red of the petticoat that set off the necklace, And the fact that it moved up and down with her breath on her neck. Everything about her floated, but It was the necklace. Where did you get that? Asked the host, fingering it gently, greedily. She drew back from him and stood taller, The necklace like a drop of indignation glittering in the sun. It was my mother's, She replied graciously, but her voice was steely. He was looking at the necklace like it was a hidden treasure. The sky was a medium blue overhead, Just dark enough not to be light, And when he made a movement that seemed odd, she barely had to time to register before There was a ripping sound, and a gasp, and a chink of delicate metal. The necklace was in his hands, and he was running, And her dress was too long, and her neck was bare, And the necklace was gone, gone, g o n e,
She sits underneath a tree unafraid of the world. The wind brushes along her face, and instead of being afraid that this gust might sweep her off and take her away, she welcomes the slight breeze in by letting it whisper in her ears. The wind has so many secrets. It murmurs by you and moves the leaves with it. It caresses your hair and tickles your skin like it’s playing a game. The wind knows no limits; it goes where it pleases and moves around anything in its way; it doesn’t care what others think of it. It is simply being. It’s unafraid of change or difference, it just floats on by. When the wind is angry, it doesn’t hold back, it isn’t afraid of anything, and it has no predators. The wind is free, and that’s what she longs to be.
Her socks were mismatched, eye gunk crystals stuck to her lashes, and the morning sun had risen far to early. But what else was new? Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and splashing her face with water, Ella slid her shoes on and grabbed her bag of bricks. She took a few steps out the gate, and tripped on a shoelace. Owww. Luckily, the spring was still chilly and had prompted her to wear her pair of go to jeggings. She laughed at herself in her head as she hurriedly laced up her shoes properly. With two sloppy bows, Ella checked her watch. Phew, fifteen minutes to spare.
She then began the morning stroll to school, savoring the feeling of a gentle breeze blowing through her damp locks. As the bright streaks of sunshine slowly woke her up from her half asleep adrenaline haze, Ella appreciated the blue bird's whistles and the neighborhood's blooming gardens.
It was Winnie who first noticed the two figures standing on the doorstep of the house numbered 37, for Adelaide had been too interested in their conversation about jam. “Who are they?” she whispered into Adelaide's ear. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of them before.” “I suppose those are our new neighbors.” “And you didn’t mention them to me before? How rude.” “Sorry,” she said, laughing. As they continued towards number 37, Adelaide saw that the two strangers were speaking with her mother, and they didn’t seem to be leaving, which sent Adelaide into a slight panic, for she had not had an opportunity to prepare for making the two new acquaintances. The two girls slowed down. “Goodness! You can practically see through the shorter one, can’t you?” As Adelaide looked more carefully, she saw that Winnie was right - the boy was so incredibly fair that she was surprised that he was a real flesh and blood human, and not some kind of spirit.
The air continued to grow warmer as the summer continued to set in. In the earliest days of June, four girls could be seen walking down the Whitby cliff stairs after school, when the sun grinned down on their shining faces. Their names were Suzannah, Janet, Mary, and Adelaide. “How sad that Winnie caught a cold just when everything was beginning to warm up,” said Mary. “It’s such a shame.” “Rather depressing, isn’t it.” “Ironic, too.” The girls walked on in silence, until Adelaide broke the spell. “You know what bothers me terribly?” “What?” “Frederick?” asked Suzannah. The girls laughed. “Well, yes,” said Adelaide, “all the time. But that’s not what I meant.” “What is it then?” said Suzannah, looking her friend in the face. “It’s that women make up half the bloody population but can’t vote. It’s just so sad and awful.” “Well, yes, it’s all horrid, but things could be worse,” ventured Janet.
One of the most glorious things about Whitby, North Yorkshire County, England, was the miraculous summer sunshine. It turned the four of them to crips to be sure, but there was nothing quite like splashing about in the chilled waters of the River Esk. The four youths could be seen in the river nearly every day of their summer vacation, and they became somewhat of a seasonal fixture. Residents of the nearby buildings would look at them through their recently washed windows and remark to their companions, “Look, if it isn’t those young ones again, but this time one year less young.” And so it went, every single summer. But it was the summer of 1914 when things started to change, unnoticeably at first, then all at once. That was the summer, the last summer, before the war.
This is what happens. I get picked last, when the worst soccer player gets picked before me. People groan, to have me on there team. We start to play. I don't get passed to. The worst player gets passed to. I run up, steal the ball, From my own team. Yes I know, not good. But I can't go on like this. They know I'm there best player. But I'm a girl. I dribble the soccer ball, down the feild. I pass a defender at lightning speed. I run, showing off my moves, I don't care.I have to prove myself. I am almost there. I am ready to shoot. I draw my foot back. And *BAM* A boy slams into me, like it's football. I scream out in pain, and crumple to the floor. "Oops, that was an accident." The boy who knocked me over, tells the supervising adult. The voice sounds framillar. I know it wasn't and accident, I know he is lying.I look up to see who it is.
“Adelaide, we need to leave now.” “No! We have to stay to-” “I’m sorry, Adelaide. A grown man just punched you in the face, we need to go.” “But-” "Your mother is going to boil me alive as it is, if we stay she’ll boil you too.” “Edwin, I don’t want to go, this is the first time I’ve been to the city, and I’ll probably never get to go again!” “I’ll take you some other time.” “Really?” “Promise. But we have to leave now. Come on.” He took her hand and led through the rambunctious crowd, barely escaping the fists and elbows that were flying about near their heads. Adelaide ran a few steps until she had caught up with Edwin. “This is horrible,” she whispered, in awe of the sheer anger that had consumed the square. “I know.” He squeezed her hand even tighter, staring straight ahead. They continued barreling across the square until they reached a side street. “Where…” wheezed Edwin, his hands on his knees.
A boy lay in a field. No, not a field, a vast expanse of every color that anyone has ever hated. A boy lay still, staring at the sky as if it would give him answers, like there could somehow still be time. The boy tried not to take his eyes off the sky, tried not to feel so many...things. Things cracking inside of him, a small piece of metal winding its way through his stomach, another in his shoulder. He tried not to hear things, he tried to forget about everything he saw behind his eyes whenever he closed them. He tried to keep his blood inside of him, tried to exist in a world that was dry and green and everything that “here” wasn’t. He had forgotten where the green things were, but he knew they were somewhere nice. Somewhere without rats. Maybe that was where he was going.
Once upon a time, there was a vast forest with many huge trees. In the center of the forest there was a tree bigger than all the rest. A gigantic elm, one that must have been hundreds of years old, stood up straight and proud. Its huge branches brushed the heavens, covered with buds in the spring, emerald leaves in the summer, and gorgeous golden brown hues in the fall, until its sleep all winter long.
But perhaps the most remarkable thing about this great tree was not its size, or its foliage, but the creatures that made their home there. Songbirds and squirrels nested in its branches, insects crawled up its bark, a family of red foxes made their den in its roots. There was even a wise old owl living in a small hollow in the trunk. An entire community of creatures, all in one tree.
My parents tell me about the tooth fairy. I wonder, are they real? And if they are, why do they want all theses teeth? Why do they want them, what will they do with them? Have you every wondered? And if you haven't. Think about it. Why teeth?
Flo bounced down the stairs with her long blond hair streaming behind her.
“Are you ready?!?”She shouted excitedly.
Today was the day! We had waited all school year for this. I couldn’t wait until this time. We were finally going to California! It was going to be a long 8 and a half hours until we got there but it would be worth it!
“Okay I’m ready Flo’s father called from the kitchen. He walked out into the living room smiling at us. He was my favorite person besides Flo and my parents. Flo’s mother had died when she was at a young age. All Flo and I remembered of her was that she always made ginger snap cookies.
Flo’s dad loaded all of our luggage into the back of his car and off we went. About 40 minutes later we made it to the airport. We had about an hour until our plane left.
"Toss one over here, Ross!" I yell. We're sitting at a picnic bench during recess- a rare occurance, as not many days have been so nice. After all, it IS just April. The third, to be exact. We've been told not to share food, cause' of some virus in LA. But thats on the other side of the country. Couldn't be a harm to us. Ross tosses a cherry into the air. I look straight up, and the smooth surface of the cherry lands on my tounge. "Yes!" I pump my fist. "I got it!" "Nice job, Mari!" says Joana, who's sitting to my right. Ross's twin sister. They get along quite well. "Maybe if you could catch a cherry in your mouth as well as you could catch a ball..." I give her a playfull shove. Not that hard, as we're sitting about two inches apart. "You want to see how good I am? Huh? Huh?" I say in a mock angry voice. "Well, lets go! You and me, team captains!"
“It's only a matter of time. Hiding it from him won't help. He’ll find out about his ability eventually, anyways,” “I know, but if we make it so he forgets about what his ability is after he uses it- he might not ever use it again for fear of the unknown. His human side is cautious like that,” “What do you mean, his human side?” “His power is a living thing. He’s the result of an experiment. His human side is caring, loyal, careful. But when he releases enough of his power, it can start to take him over, and that side of him is murderous, hateful, and...well, just a complete monster,” “If he finds out about what we’ve hid from him and what we’ve done...even his human side might hate us,” “I know,” “Which is why we have to at least tell him what happens if he uses too much of his power,” “No, we don't. Put memories in his head, that he’s hurt or even killed people he cared about. That should do,”
She should be comforted. But his smile is still all teeth, no light in eyes. His hand on her shoulder is ice-cold, the hands of the dead grasping at their one lifeline, too desperate to mean much. His touch still burns. She shoves his hand off, and runs back into the darkness, deep into the unknown.
Sophia Jane, of Glenwood, Maine, was accepted into Madam’s Art School for Girls in Augusta, Maine. She said her goodbyes to her family and went right away. As she sat in her dorm room, on her fluffy bed, she wished to talk to her family. And so, she grabbed her pen and paper and started to write. She wrote to her Mother.
Dear Mother, I am enjoying school so much, but I'm writing to you, because I wish to have a connection with the bright, sunny hills of Glenwood, and our little humble home. It is so different here in the city. I have made new friends. Lots of them too. But tell Marie, she will always be my favorite. Becky and I are to go to the Cafe after school. Enough about me. How about you? How is home life? How is old Grandpa doing. How is Father? How are my dear two sisters? Please, if you receive this, write me back. Your Daughter, Sophia Jane
My friend asked me one day if I wanted to go for a road trip. I said sure because the coronavirus had been keeping me in the house all day. We started on a clear day in May. We drove all morning and it was finally lunch time. I asked where we were going for lunch but I didn’t get an answer. My friend had forgotten that all of the restaurants were closed!
After a drive around town we finally found a McDonalds that was open. We ordered lunch and then we got back on the road. We drove for the rest of the day. When it was dark we pulled over to the side of the road to sleep.
In the morning, we drove until lunch time. We turned around and started on our way back. We slept in the same spot where we slept last night. We had lunch at McDonalds and we were soon home.