Young Adult
The First Time Again
Maybe it was the excitement of our holiday that made the shock seem greater – that and our childish delight upon entering the gorgeous wooden cabin and exploring its small yet thrilling confines for the first time. Nothing was too plain or insignificant to receive an awe-filled ‘woah!’ or ‘this is so cool!’ whether it be the woollen rugs covering the couches, the stone-paved fireplace, or the breathtaking view of the mountains from the balcony. You can never be too old to freak out about an amazing place. When there are no real adults or real kids around, the standards for what three twenty-year old’s should behave like goes completely out the door and down the road to the next town – or something like that.
By Caitlin Swan4 years ago in Fiction
Delivery Method
A small box, neatly wrapped in brown paper, sat on a bench in front of the fountain in Midtown Mall. Kendra watched a man get up and leave it behind. She had watched this same man place it on the bench beside him while he enjoyed an ice cream cone. As the crowd of people bustled past, she watched a woman in a red dress approach the package and pick it up. The woman in the red dress examined the box carefully. Kendra tapped her best friend, Chelsea, on the shoulder and pointed in the woman’s direction.
By Nicholas Kleinhenz4 years ago in Fiction
The Enchanted Parchment Wrapped Box
An old decrepit cabin creeks eerily on the outskirts of a dark dreary woods, it's as if it breathes with life of its own. Windchimes jingle as they dance in the frigid morning breeze. A black crow is perched atop a post out front, his ominous stare alludes to danger to come. Four boys creep slowly towards the cabin, crisp autumn leaves crunch lightly below their feet as they apprehensively make their way closer. Hiding behind a grove of trees, they peak out to inspect the house cautiously.
By Jesse Caudill 4 years ago in Fiction
The Mystery at Hawthorne High
It's April 1985 and I'm in my Sr. year of high school at Hawthorne High and there's so much to do. I have cheerleading tryouts, Prom and graduation to think about. I'm also a little afraid of my friends being upset if I get in, not because they don't support me but I'm well... let's just say part of a different crowd. My main concern is my friend Ava. We met on the first day of high school freshman year. We met in the library, we were both in the Philosophy section and started talking. It was then that Ava introduced me to Baudelaire, this amazing French poet and philosopher and we've been inseparable ever since.
By Peggy Raether4 years ago in Fiction
The Weaver
A brief re-telling of the Myth of Arachne. There are several different versions of that myth, but frankly, few of them end with anyone in particularly positive light. Most versions focus on Arachne’s undue pride and the perceived arrogance of calling the Gods on their actions. I wanted to explore the other side, where Arachne was doomed as soon as Athena showed up, no matter who wove better.
By Natasja Rose4 years ago in Fiction
Mystery Within a Box
The last time I saw my best friend, Laura, was when I told her I hated her. That was almost a week ago. The fight we had seemed pointless now. I wished more than anything that I could take back what I said to her. My fingers were trembling as I remained seated; tears were running down my flushed face. I had to bite my cheek to keep from making any noise.
By Kellie Gilman4 years ago in Fiction
Packaged Memoirs
The post does not normally run on Sundays, but today proved to be a rare exception. It has been a year and six months since I’ve last heard from him and not, I find this interestingly wrapped package, dusty brown in color, sitting on my front porch. I cannot say for sure if it is even from him or if he is even thinking about me enough to send me an entire package. We went from sending love letters back and forth to each other for over a year to complete silence. Not a single letter, nor a note of any kind. It is like all the love we expressed to each other, all the romance we poured into each other and all through the simple technique of eloquently placed words on blank sheets of paper...never even happened.
By Dominique Whitfield4 years ago in Fiction
