Isabella G Jones
Bio
Stories present us a unique common thread to link all human hearts and minds. May my threads bind some of us together.
Stories (2)
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Dear Valentine, I Hate You
Chapter 1 The last thing Chance wanted was to be there, in that auditorium, in that school really, getting ready to perform. If you should even say the word “perform” about a five minute skit for English class. He was backstage, and paced among the old costumes and half broken down sets from the previous school production. It was dimly lit where he was, but it had to be, to counteract the harsh brightness of the stage lights that shone so they blinded you. He didn’t mind though, he was glad it was, so no one could see how pale he was or how much he was sweating. Other than those two uncontrollable natural responses, Chance showed no other signs that he was nervous. He had no nervous tick, other than his pacing that could testify to his impatience, and his face showed no fear; it was a blank slate. It normally was. In all his time at Washington High School, Chance’s peers had only seen three facial expressions painted on him at all times; anger, annoyance, and nothing- emotionless.
By Isabella G Jones3 years ago in Fiction
A Man Named Ada
It is winter, the snow swirls like spirits dancing in joy, oblivious of the remorse welling up in the man who walks through the fields and into the woods, clutching to the bundle plumb against his chest. His eyes sting, freezing the tears before they can fall. The child clinging to his chest begins to cry.
By Isabella G Jones3 years ago in Fiction
