Young Adult

Jason's Chocolate Cake
As nine year old Jason is putting the ingredients into the chocolate cake he is baking for his father, tears runs down his face as he repeats this will be the last time my dad ever beats me. He is shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind as he looks at his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom. His blond hair is covered with blood again, his blue eyes are swollen shut. Poor Jason looks like he just went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson. Jason's mother, Phyllis is in the bedroom having given her very last to protect her son from the monster she had married.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Fiction
Hide away.
Image by pasja100 at Pixabay I could hear their thundering footsteps and laboured breathing coming closer and closer. ''Come on, little fox. You know we'll catch you. And when we catch you, we will hurt you. If you stop and come quietly, we won't hurt you. We promise.''
By Deborah Robinson5 years ago in Fiction
Sarah and Billie share pasta from a baby bath with their handsome Italian chefs
The miles of porticoes that shaded the trio as they walked around the city meant they didn’t burn to a crisp. Three alabaster-skinned English girls with blonde hair. The Italian sun would have roasted them like freshly plucked chickens on a spit.
By Karen Madej5 years ago in Fiction
Buy Any Other Name
Image by Jeremy Gray Olivia looked down upon a tomato plant, then up a little at the row it was in, then across the field at more plants and trees that reformed this Leeds, Alabama neck of the woods. She was still a little rattled by the grown ups arguing at the dinner table. Her mom was a city girl and her dad and grandparents were country bumpkins who outnumbered her three to one.
By John Ceperich5 years ago in Fiction
Take Me With You
“When are you going to accept the fact I’m no good for you?” he whispers in my ear, emerging from the shadows and sending little shivers of pleasure down my spine. I close my eyes, letting the feelings of pure bliss wash over me. He came.
By Kora Greenwood5 years ago in Fiction
I Don't Belong
Do you remember when Ma took us to the barn off of Shady Creek Lane? I played with the calico kittens, their eyes barely open, while you climbed bales of hay. The insides were falling apart, like an old man whose bones were nearly poking through his skin, but Ma didn’t seem to care as she smoked cigarette after cigarette with Dan, the owner.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
Old Man Saffold's Barn
Winter is coming, and the weather up here will freeze, so make sure you get yourself over to Old Man Saffold's Barn before it's too late, my Mom warned me again. She was always concerned that I would freeze to death out in the woods all alone. She looked at me one more time and told me she would see me there, and I had better not be the last one coming through the door because once Old Man Saffold closed the barn doors, that was it. I smiled again, said yes, ma'am, one more time, and then I released my grip on the limb of that old northern pine tree and took off in flight to seek out my latest adventure.
By Joey Lowe5 years ago in Fiction
#3: Anthropolis One: The Never Clock
4:30pm Nathan and Jonah returned to the cavernous garage as the winter sun was setting behind the mountains. Removing their parkas and pants, they proceeded into a large brightly lit mudroom. There they tossed their gear into the cleaning system, before grabbing their lab kits; a mostly improvised mix of surgical scrubs and intricately pocketed lab coats. After exchanging their field goggles for regular day glasses, they proceeded to a large building adjacent to the garage which served as the research lab.
By Tobias D.H. Crichton5 years ago in Fiction
The Waste
All I notice about today’s lunch line is Allen’s green eyes above the smattering of freckles across his nose. With practiced gentleness, I place my opaque glass tray on the rollers and take my place in the queue. Allen’s milk white skin flushes when he sees me. His gaze doesn’t waver as I approach. By the time I’m standing in front of him, my own blush is blazing from my neck.
By C.A. Fray5 years ago in Fiction
The Lessons of Magik
Yorklyn City Her thumb hovered over the green button on her cell phone screen, and she clicked her tongue. Electricity buzzed overhead and she felt her skin tingle as she stared down at the name. Ryan Wilson. She had constructed a simple, yet elegant text asking for his assistance in tutoring, but she couldn’t seem to make her thumb press ‘send’. Kara sat there and stared at it as the words stared back at her from the lit-up screen. It screamed desperation. She was willing to take anyone as a companion if she texted him.
By S.L.McGinnis5 years ago in Fiction
Adara
Ever since I was born, I was told I was different. Of course, at that time I never understood what anyone meant. I felt normal, and I looked normal. I mean I was just a child. I had platinum blonde hair, it looked almost white and my eyes, they were ice blue, bluer than any ocean which was strange since both of my parents had eyes so dark, they looked black. I guess our small town shook the moment I opened my eyes for the first time. As I got older I started understanding more, in my town I was the only one with pale hair and blue eyes. Everyone had black hair and dark eyes, I started seeing why everyone looked at me so differently and then I turned eighteen.
By Heidi Lynn Pennington5 years ago in Fiction
The Vindication of Aralia Jones
Aralia sat outside the Headmaster's office, sweat beading down the back of her neck as she wrung her hands together nervously.
By Jessie Waddell5 years ago in Fiction