Young Adult
ARC Ladies
2. The night passed slow. The chill had set in shortly after the sun finally fell below the western fields. The moon must have been high above the garden by now, but I couldn’t tell for the total cover of the leaves, and spotting anything with my eyes now was hopeless.
By Greg Clark5 years ago in Fiction
Blossom Storm
“Mari!” The voice called her but she barely noticed. She had fallen asleep in the flower gardens. “Mari!” They called again, pulling her out of her dream. She was dreaming she was dancing among marigold flowers. In her dream, the flowers glided through the air on an unseen wind.
By T. F. Coffey5 years ago in Fiction
Tales of Bette: Do Something...Not Him
Bette On It: Weird Adolescence. 10th Grade 2001-2002. An Excerpt... December 2001 It was Christmas time. Bette and Kasey had worked a catered lunch event at the museum and were done working for the Saturday. Kasey had a car and suggested they go to the mall for some Christmas shopping. Bette didn't really need to go there, but she wanted to do something and Kasey was good company. The only store Bette thought to look in for gifts for her parents was the book store. Kasey wanted to shop the music section and she told Bette to come find her when she was done. Bette went into the section of books on antiques and collectibles and picked up a book about the history of pinball machines and thought of her father. He loved pinball. His love of the game was imbued in her. He could play for an hour on a machine on one quarter and Bette would go through a whole roll of quarters playing a pinball machine next to him. It was a big book, practically a textbook. She paged through it smiling at the history, creativity, and joy the game had brought over the years. She saw someone approach the section out of the corner of her eye and took a couple steps back so they could either pursue the section or pass.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her5 years ago in Fiction
Drive
Gray gravel crunches as I rev the worn out truck up the narrow driveway. Leafy branches swing overhead and undergrowth moves in layers around the dirt path. I sigh as the front tires bounce over a pothole. It's way too late...no, way too early to be getting home. When are these 4 o'clock in the morning arrivals going to stop? Never. I hear myself answer my own question. They will stop when you're dead. God, why do I become so macabre when I'm tired? Why do I talk to myself?
By Candice Lango5 years ago in Fiction
Miss Marigold. Third Place in SFS 4: Golden Summer Challenge.
I must have circled the never-ending hallways a thousand times. Wheeling the portable IV at my feet, I almost clipped my toes as I steered to the left. A beautiful sign had once been strung on the now plain, wooden door. A photo of a beautiful marigold flower. Everything about them resembled her perfectly, and not just because of her name.
By jess thomson5 years ago in Fiction
Friendship Unwrapped
Pauline left the empty, old barn with a heavy heart. She had lost her best friend, and her passion. Well, she felt like that passion was actually stolen from her. She walked back to the two-story farmhouse where she lived. It had been completely remodeled before Pauline’s family moved in, sharply contrasting the old dairy barn. Pauline’s bedroom was on the second floor. She trudged up the wooden stairs. As she opened her bedroom door, she looked at the taunting wrapped box lying on her bed where she had left it before her trip to the barn. It was her Birthday gift from Marigold. Her parents had grabbed it for her to open at home when she and Emma were swept off to the hospital, before knowing that Marigold was the cause of their frightful experience. She didn’t really want to open it now, but she was curious. She picked it up: just large enough to fit in her hand, and not heavy.
By KJ Aartila5 years ago in Fiction
The Ascent of Skye
She sat on her bedroom floor with her stuffed brown bear clutched in her arms gazing at the rain that bounced violently against the window. The whispers of her mom’s phone conversation, “I just don’t know what else to do . . . I know . . . yes . . . right . . . I know she’s been through . . . I’m scared . . . I’m worried Skye won’t get through this,” wept through the door and caused two silent tears to run down the tracks of the young teenage girl’s face. Skye squeezed her bear tighter and spoke in her own whisper, “I don’t want to be in this world anymore.”
By U.B. Light5 years ago in Fiction
To the Stars
My mother named me Nevada because I was conceived in Las Vegas. Funny, considering I’d never actually been to Vegas or Nevada. But to be fair, I hadn’t been much of anywhere in my eighteen years due to what is technically called agoraphobia, but which I just call the big shakes. I’ve spoken with countless therapists over the years, and though the faces and business casual attire fade into each other over time, they all basically asked the same question.
By Kora Greenwood5 years ago in Fiction
