Chris Medina
Bio
Hey, I'm Chris! I hope you enjoy reading my work as much as I like making it :) I'm in high school and love writing anything from poetry to fantasy, although most of what I publish on here are fiction short stories.
Stories (5)
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Winter Warmth
Fitting everything needed for the week into those brown paper grocery bags was an art form. You had to neatly organize all the food into stacks or else it would bulge out of the sides like an overweight church lady still in the tight clothes she got in her twenties. Then you had to buy things with the weight of them in mind. There was one time, before she knew better, when Sophia had foolishly brought home an eight-pack of sodas. It was when her high school savings started to run dry, and she had to cut back on her subway usage. She struggled the whole way home, and her bag ripped halfway there, spilling cheap ramen packets and wonder bread and pre-chopped vegetables all over the pavement.
By Chris Medina4 years ago in Fiction
Overgrown
Brenda and Joel Edwards were adorable in the way that aging couples in love are. When they met, they were both in the prime of their youth, and they had held hands on the stage as they were crowned king and queen of the prom. That night was magic, even though it was in the school gym and smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber and the strobe lights gave Brenda a headache. That magic was still there, between them, after all the years, and even when their hair faded to grey then white and their waistlines extended and their skin sagged, there was nothing more beautiful to them in the world than each other. After all, what were smile lines but the memories of millions of happy times? And what was a couple extra pounds but testament to a table that was seldom empty?
By Chris Medina4 years ago in Fiction
Growing
Brenda and Joel Edwards were adorable in the way that aging couples in love are. When they met, they were both in the prime of their youth, and they had held hands on the stage as they were crowned king and queen of the prom. That night was magic, even though it was in the school gym and smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber and the strobe lights gave Brenda a headache. That magic was still there, between them, after all the years, and even when their hair faded to grey then white and their waistlines extended and their skin sagged, there was nothing more beautiful to them in the world than each other. After all, what were smile lines but the memories of millions of happy times? And what was a couple extra pounds but testament to a table that was seldom empty?
By Chris Medina4 years ago in Fiction
Cold
A loud cry from a handsome black rooster pierced the stone-grey morning. He was strutting across a rain-soaked pasture that was now covered in sparking, frozen dew, squawking and flying through the misty air in frenzied bursts. All the noise awoke Arun, who grumbled and squirmed in his bed, pulling his sheets a little closer to ward off the icy morning air. Paying the heating bill was off the table this month, with the tax deadline rolling in and his father’s hospital bills looming in the air. It was ok, though. It just meant everyone had to go to bed wearing layers. The rooster cawed again, reminding Arun of his morning chores. Slowly, he rose out of his nest of greying quilts and braved the cold. His morning breath let out in little puffs and fogged up the mirror as he brushed his teeth.
By Chris Medina4 years ago in Fiction
Soap And Despair
Theresa Wallace was the type of girl that everyone wanted to be. She was quick to break out into kind smiles, her house was that perfect mix of lived-in and pristine, and her family was gorgeous. All of her kids had her honey-blonde hair, her rosy cheeks, her emerald eyes, and her cheerful mannerisms. Mary had never seen them fight in all of the five years she had lived next door to her. Her lawn was always bright and neatly trimmed, and her garden was perfectly manicured.
By Chris Medina4 years ago in Fiction
