Young Adult
Their Special Place
Standing at the edge of the treeline, Archer Bishop looked to the field beyond his eyes. Long rows of marigolds stood side by side, their beauty calling to anyone who passed. Taking in his surroundings, he tried to submerge the memories that were bleeding into his consciousness. This was their spot. This was where they would go to escape. Endless days running through those fields, full of laughter and light, days that would never dawn again. Drawing a deep breath he willed his feet to take those much needed steps to reach the fields, the steps towards the flowers that she loved so dearly. It was a place so full of beauty and peace. A place where the sun embraced all, where the flowers danced with the wind, and the sounds blended into a harmonious song. A place she loved more than anything. Approaching the flowers he outstretched his trembling hand, pausing before he could touch the petals. Marigolds were always her favourite, especially the ones from this field. He remembered the first time Grace had led him here, like it was yesterday. It was the day after they had lost their mother.
By Eden Hinspeter4 years ago in Fiction
Friendship Revisited
Pauline had finally convinced her parents to let her take riding lessons after a couple of falls from Simon – once when he spooked uncharacteristically at a flush of birds while loping along the edge of the field, and another time when they decided to jump a fallen tree in their path while galloping along another trail through the sparse woods. Both times, she was bareback, but hopped right back onto Simon without a thought. It wasn’t his fault. She could tell he felt bad about her being on the ground.
By KJ Aartila4 years ago in Fiction
Presidios and Stetsons
It was September 5th, the first day of the county fair. We sponsor a 4H program for the local Youth At Risk program and today we have two teens showing our animals! We have two sheep and two goats showing this year. The teens worked really hard to get their animals looking top notch, and we are really proud of them. Last year we won two first place and two second place ribbons for our pigs. We sold those pigs that very day. My dad gave each teen a hundred dollars from those sales.
By Susan Kulkowitz4 years ago in Fiction
Marigolds
On the day she died, he placed her into the ground. Overnight, under a blood moon, their hearts were both broken. The town talked, it was mysterious how she just disappeared. Just left, everything and everyone she had ever known. And how a mysterious marigold flower, that grew overnight, almost glowed as vibrant as the sun in the dead of dark grew year-round.
By Coraline Faye4 years ago in Fiction
Sex Ed
“This is what passes for sex education?” I whisper to Tara as the teacher at the front of the room equates ‘safe’ kisses to peaches. It’s pathetic and an uncomfortable heat is pouring through me, making sweat break out on my temples and I can feel it collecting in my bra.
By J. D. Everly4 years ago in Fiction
Rememberance
Jessica stared out at the marigold field in front of her and took in the beautiful array of colours. They were vibrant, gorgeous and completely heart halting. Hues of yellow, orange, and red littered the field like they dominated it…she inhaled deeply and felt the warm summer breeze carry the scent of the flowers into her nostrils. She came here every year, the same date, the same time- September the eleventh-1:45pm. Most people knew that as the date and time when the planes struck the towers…when countless lives were lost to a merciless terrorist attack. But Jessica knew that specific date as the time she lost her mother. Her mother worked in the building that was struck down first, she did something to do with the reception-looking back on it Jessica couldn’t remember exactly what she did, she wished she had, she wished she could go back in time and find out every little detail of her mothers life, learn every line and crevice on her face-she just wanted to memorise as much as she could. However, as she sat among the marigold flowers, tears clouded her eyes and the realisation hit her that she couldn’t go back, she couldn’t remember what her mother looked like, or the way her hair smelt after a shower…she couldn’t remember the sound of her laugh or her voice and she couldn’t remember when she last spoke to her. Jessica was always told how painful it was to lose someone that close to you, the absence of their soul will be an absence of your own as if part of their heart was also part of yours-but it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just the feeling of loss, of pure destruction. But also the disappearance of memories that other children held so dear-the memories of opening presents on Christmas morning or walks in the forest as a family, or even completely meaningless memories that nobody really cared for until it was too late -like that one conversation you had before school on a Tuesday morning, or when you got your first boyfriend and your mother was more excited than you were. All of these things seemed pointless to remember at the time, but now her mother was gone she realised every memory and every morsel of her being ached for her mothers arms once again, wished that her mother was next to her, rubbing her head and telling her everything was going to be alright. Jessica heard a cracking of a twig behind her, she turned to see a short girl, her skin was deep mahogany and her afro was wild and crazy as always, she felt a smile bloom across her face at the sight of her best and longest friend-Kiarah.
By Emani Lawson 4 years ago in Fiction
The Flower of Flame. Top Story - August 2021.
It was my 16th birthday. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the unlit candles on my cake. My mom sat next to me, waiting for my grandma to arrive. I ran my fingers through my hair as we waited: it felt strange, having such short hair now. I’d gotten it cut yesterday, wanting to reinvent myself now that I was turning 16.
By Sephy Atlas4 years ago in Fiction
The Girl On the Bluff
She awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks. Her eyes fluttered open and a smile stretched slowly across her face. She sat up and glanced at the clock that hung on her wall. It was just about to be five in the morning. Her family would not be getting up for another two hours or so. It was late August and the morning air chilled her bare arms. Goose bumps prickled up her skin as the wind danced through her open windows. She stood up to close them but stopped when she saw how beautiful the morning was.
By Sophia Makarenko 4 years ago in Fiction
