short story
The Four Seasons
Winter I’ve never been fond of winter. The sky is dull and the sounds are muffled by the snow that buries my roots. I am cold. My protection against the wind blew away in fall, leaving me exposed to the harsh pellets of hail and ice-laden winds. The only warmth I receive this time of year comes from the little family of raccoons that have burrowed by my roots; I can feel their heated fur against my bark as they sleep the day away. Farther up the tree is another family: squirrels, who have made a nest in my trunk. They spend all morning scuttering about collecting the nuts they've stashed, and at night once the raccoons have gone, they sleep, their gentle breaths lulling me into a slumber-like reverie.
By Katarina Meglic4 years ago in Earth
A Winter Day
A Winter Day Written by Anna Vesterby It was a crisp December morning when Aria awoke to the vibrations of her loyal companion, Orion jumping on their rickety wooden bed. Having adopted him months prior, the two had become inseparable. Aria was a slim girl, with cascades of ebony hair trailing down her sun stained skin. Her heritage allowed her skin to remain a golden brown if maintained in sunlight, an envy of those with paler skin who would burn to a crisp in comparison. Scars on her body eluded to past stories of hardships one could only imagine but with them came a sense of power and purpose. The scars were afterall, tales of all that she had overcome. Instead of viewing them as a sign of defeat, she allowed them to bring her character; with every scar came a story of strength and determination.
By Anna Vesterby4 years ago in Earth
The Dance
It had been a damp night. The air was thick with humidity of mid-spring. Tiny droplets of dew began to form on the grass outside, but all else was still and quiet. All else, that is, except for her. She had not slept a wink. Overwhelmed with concerned about the state of the world and humanity as a whole, she felt the urge to fight. Nevertheless, she was completely unaware of where to direct her strength. Unequivocally, her strength was dwindling and her concern heightening with every pause, every second, every breath.
By Deanna McCullough4 years ago in Earth
under Stone Moon
Clouds are forming like November spider silk. Webbed into grey waves, like Pacific surf crossed with arctic tundra. You’re soaring, seeing ribbed stratocumulus from above. You’re looking down upon them. I’m a small little one, wedged cozily between your feathers. Small enough that you barely notice me. We feel both small and large-
By Rebecca Canright4 years ago in Earth
Twin's Telling
My identical twin sister and I have always shared experiences that are completely unexplainable. My mother tells us of many incidents, like when we were both learning to walk. I was toddling around and stood up underneath a high chair and bonked my head. My mom testifies that I didn’t blink or cry at all but my twin was in the other room and instantly screamed out and began crying. Mom also said that since we could communicate that we had our own language between us. Mom said we would shut our bedroom door and not allow her in. She said she was always following us around and observing us, that we were so different than other children and our older brother.
By Lisa Colombe4 years ago in Earth
What remains of Her... (And us.)
It’s one thing to think about the future, and another to live it, I think. Should I explain that one? I suppose so. It’s about the year 2056, and the Earth is gone. For Us. It’s still there of course, the requisite 5 million years haven’t passed for the Sun in our Solar System to go supernova and truly swallow the planet whole.
By Keith Tanu4 years ago in Earth
Life 101: Cigarettes, Moonlight and Drama
Whoah...... s***!.....the whoosh from the wing flap flipped my hair up, I swear, the wing swept inches in front of my face and upwards at once...she must have been trying to catch something on the ground... didn’t she see me standing here?
By Kristin Ellis4 years ago in Earth
Soul Set Loose
The kinship entered into the villas interior. Around the central garden, five stories opened upward like giant steps of a pyramid, and each held a terrace as the architecture receded before the rising garden. Sweeping backward as the ceiling revealed open sky on each of the four sides, the sight of draped mosses refreshed Echecrates, ever since the days of his youth. The tiered terraces let sunlight in through the clear plexiglass dome above. A dome that would soon open as winter approached its end. For now, layers of additional sheeting extended from each terrace, creating a collage of coloured streaks as the 6 layer bubble kept in pockets of warm air.
By Warren Peidl4 years ago in Earth
Nin Ninna
*ACT 1* Leaving North Carolina to start a new life in Missouri seemed like my only choice at the time. Robin, my oldest, was still in middle school, Sofia was just a few months old and Jay, my middle child still had asthma then, and a lurking congenital defect that would show its ugly face the very next year.
By *LILIAN BLU*4 years ago in Earth
