Young Adult
Write In The Middle Of It
The church was filled to capacity and glowing in an electric blue hue . Sadiah was sitting on the choir loft with Mama singing their favorite selection. The pianist was smiling at them, the pastor was smiling at them, and the congregation was smiling at them. Tears streamed down Sadiah’s cheeks and Mama cupped her face in her soft hands and kissed them away. As she closed her eyes she inhaled her mother’s fragrance.
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Fiction
The Thick of Things
Linda’s been exasperated with Dad all day. She’d originally had a date to catch Empire Strikes Back at the Northpoint with her friends. The movie had just come out, and her girls were already bragging about what they’d had to trade for the tickets.
By Pearce Hansen4 years ago in Fiction
7 Popular Habits of Attractive People You Should Adopt
Every one of us is born with the potential to be attractive. But what habits do we need to develop in order to be more attractive? Many of us believe we have the potential to be very attractive, but we don't know what habits we need to develop in order to do so.
By Anup Joshi4 years ago in Fiction
Dreamer - Chapter 37
The ride home had been quiet. Rev had mostly kept his gaze out on the open road. He leaned his right hand against the steering wheel, while his left was held up against the window. The trees whizzed past as if we were racing them towards the house; whoever made it back first, wins. The closer we got towards my home, the fewer cars showed on the road. I'll probably never get used to life in the middle of nowhere; what the hell was my father thinking when he found this place? To break the awkward silence, I just pulled out my phone. Rev said earlier to make this technology-free.. but hey, I make my own choices now.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
TOUCH | Part 1
It was the last snowstorm of the season, and the fiercest. Gusts of freezing wind buffeted the black pickup that drove alone down State Road 13. Ice built up on the windshield faster than the defroster could melt it. Yellow headlights pierced the snow flurries that fell from thick cloud cover. The truck wove its way around snowdrifts and icy patches on chained tires. Inside, a sixteen-year-old boy wearing a short-sleeved tee and ripped blue jeans kept a careful foot on the gas.
By Addison Horner4 years ago in Fiction
A Letter At a Funeral
I watched as people filed into the room. Their black attire absorbed any light that was trying to thrive in the space. There were flowers placed throughout the room trying to bring life to an event about death. People walked by pictures that held lively memories, they wept, they laughed, and so many either squeezed my hand or hugged me. I heard the same statements over and over. I'm sorry for your loss. My condolences. She was an amazing human. You're so strong. I felt weak. My knees felt wobbly and I felt like a broken recording, thank you. I watched them all stop at the small emerald green box at the front of the room. It was surrounded by more pictures and larger flower arrangements.
By Michaela Gallien4 years ago in Fiction
The Cabin
She fell asleep the moment her back touched the bed. She was in a deep sleep and was dreaming about that one summer vacation when she and her parents were spending their weekend in the cabin. She was twelve years old. She hoped Joseph came with them but his family had other plans. However, her father told her that they would visit on the day before they leave. Today was THAT day and she was sitting on the stairs waiting for Joseph and his parents to arrive. Today was Friday. Tomorrow, Saturday, was the time when they would all go back home together.
By Wyoma Maisog4 years ago in Fiction
The Intrepid Reporter
This would be the interview of Alika Zale’s lifetime. She knocked over several textbooks and kicked aside some stray cardboard boxes as she dug through what seemed like hundreds of colorful portfolios, flipping through the pages until she found and yanked out the right documents. She pinned them onto her clipboard and tucked it under her elbow, slipping her ballpoint pen out from behind her ear and pulling out a loose strand of smooth, dark hair from her ponytail. She chugged down the last of her tea and slam-dunked it into her trash can. She dusted off her suit pants and her ink-black blazer and tugged at the crisp collar of her dress shirt. Then she snatched her camera off her desk, stuffed it into her satchel, and slung the leather bag over her shoulder, throwing the door to her office closed.
By Wen Xiaosheng4 years ago in Fiction
