Young Adult
Bittersweet Sixteen
It was Elias's sixteenth birthday and he was alone once again. His Mother was at work. Which he wasn't going to complain about. As she was working hard to provide for him. He tried his best considering his low paycheck from working at Starbucks. But, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to help that much.
By Raphael Fontenelle5 years ago in Fiction
The Stone
Elia wandered through the forest, enjoying the peace and quiet as she always did. There was nothing but the rustling of her backpack, the clink of her knife handle tapping the canteen in her hip bag, and the rhythm of her boots hitting the ground beneath her feet. She would have to better secure that knife after setting out her bed for the night, she thought, but the percussion was welcome. It had been a while since she heard anything that resembled music. Making camp in this area would be a breeze with plenty of rock overhangs and bushes to settle against. It was a stroke of luck that she found such a quiet pass through the mountains, though not entirely surprising. Elia was a lucky one, and it was the reason she was alone now. Her last group encampment got raided by marauders. It was a rare occurrence these days, and she escaped unscathed as she tended to do. They were nice people, and she was going to miss the camaraderie, but surviving was easier without attachments.
By Cori Celis5 years ago in Fiction
Waking Up
Taylor woke up in the pit. He was up to bat. Coach Raven was yelling his name. His teammates were patting his back. The wooden bat felt heavy and awkward in his hands. He gave it a few practice swings before stepping out to the plate. Those in the stands cheered. Hundreds, thousands of people watching, waiting, supporting him. Taylor waved, sending a smile and a wink out. He took his position and turned to the pitcher.
By Jennifer Terry5 years ago in Fiction
Small Hand and Foot Prints; Big City Girl
Phoebe could not wait to leave the small farming town she grew up in. Phoebe had always dreamed of big city living and the thought of having to continue the family tradition of farm living was something she knew was not for her.
By LaShunta H5 years ago in Fiction
Jason's Chocolate Cake
As nine year old Jason is putting the ingredients into the chocolate cake he is baking for his father, tears runs down his face as he repeats this will be the last time my dad ever beats me. He is shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind as he looks at his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom. His blond hair is covered with blood again, his blue eyes are swollen shut. Poor Jason looks like he just went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson. Jason's mother, Phyllis is in the bedroom having given her very last to protect her son from the monster she had married.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Fiction
Hide away.
Image by pasja100 at Pixabay I could hear their thundering footsteps and laboured breathing coming closer and closer. ''Come on, little fox. You know we'll catch you. And when we catch you, we will hurt you. If you stop and come quietly, we won't hurt you. We promise.''
By Deborah Robinson5 years ago in Fiction
Sarah and Billie share pasta from a baby bath with their handsome Italian chefs
The miles of porticoes that shaded the trio as they walked around the city meant they didn’t burn to a crisp. Three alabaster-skinned English girls with blonde hair. The Italian sun would have roasted them like freshly plucked chickens on a spit.
By Karen Madej5 years ago in Fiction
Buy Any Other Name
Image by Jeremy Gray Olivia looked down upon a tomato plant, then up a little at the row it was in, then across the field at more plants and trees that reformed this Leeds, Alabama neck of the woods. She was still a little rattled by the grown ups arguing at the dinner table. Her mom was a city girl and her dad and grandparents were country bumpkins who outnumbered her three to one.
By John Ceperich5 years ago in Fiction
I Don't Belong
Do you remember when Ma took us to the barn off of Shady Creek Lane? I played with the calico kittens, their eyes barely open, while you climbed bales of hay. The insides were falling apart, like an old man whose bones were nearly poking through his skin, but Ma didn’t seem to care as she smoked cigarette after cigarette with Dan, the owner.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
