Carla Carter

Joined June 2021

3 stories

Stories (3)

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She works with her hands
“I think you should take up something where you use your hands,” said my dad matter-of-factly. “Why do you say that?” I inquired with a quizzical look upon my face.
By Carla Carter4 years ago in Journal
Reality Bites
Melinda gathered her books and walked down the dimly lit grey hallway. Her small brown purse bounced at her slender hip as she made her way through the throng of other students. As she walked, she saw her friend Tia. Her long, red hair was pulled up into a ponytail almost on the top of her head. Her black leather shoulder bag bounced around, the contents threatening to spill out. As Melinda drew near her, she could see that Tia had something in her hands. “Tia!” Melinda shouted toward her friend. The girl’s ponytail flipped about, as she walked on, oblivious to Melinda’s shouting. Melinda quickened her pace until she was directly behind Tia.
By Carla Carter5 years ago in Fiction
The Others
Mae clutched the locket that was deep inside her apron pocket, closing her fist tightly around it. It was the shape of a heart, with tiny roses shaped from white and yellow gold on the front. On the back was an engraving. It read, ‘E.M.L.,’ the initials of her great-great-great-great grandmother, whom she was named after: Edna Mae Lewis. It had been passed down throughout the generations, always given to the eldest daughter from her mother.
By Carla Carter5 years ago in Fiction