Category: Other creative
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When I was nine years old, I wrote a story called “The Bravest Dachshund”. I don’t remember if this was a class project or something I decided to do on my own. I also have two older stories, things I wrote in my copy of “My Book About Me” (by Dr. Seuss, more or less).…
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Once upon a time, I started to write a short story about an inner city area where the dominant force was a person who ran the area as if it were some sort of medieval wasteland. It was a riff on Mad Max, except in the modern era instead of a dystopian future. I think…
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Jessamyn sat on a bench in the middle of the city park, legs crossed into applesauce. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the sunlight. Some gray clouds had moved in across the horizon; it would rain soon, but the sun would hold out for a little longer. The Now that she had been inhabiting…
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Ravyn pulled the sheet of paper out of the typewriter’s mechanism and set it, upside down, on the pile of finished sheets. They picked up the stack and tapped the edge on the table to straighten it. Fifty-two pages. Too short to be a novel, too long to be a short story, but enough to…
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jlite: Hi. It’s been a while. vladtheimpala: Oh, hey! Long time no chat. How are things going? jlite: It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I guess. How are you? vladtheimpala: Same old same old, nothing to report. What’s going on? jlite: Nothing. I just wanted to apologize. I know it might be a late, but still, I…
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3:04. I know what time it was because I instinctively looked at the clock on Letitia’s dresser moments after I opened her bedroom door and noticed she wasn’t there. The window was open, and while the rest of her stuffed animals were lined up on the edge of the bed, in size order, Theodore Bear…
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Ravyn stared at the white paper which was pressed against the platen roller by the bail bar. They’d gotten a manual typewriter because it felt like the way to be least distracted when writing, but even still, the white paper continued to stare back at them. On the computer, every key press could instantly be…
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“Hey, what do you have there?” Aunt Dahlia sat down at the table next to Vanessa, who had drawn a picture of some flowers and was in the process of coloring the sky a light purple. Vanessa’s my daughter, by the way. She’s eight, and she had been sitting quietly on a table out of…
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The thing is, I don’t think Jared even likes me, let alone loves me, and I haven’t really let him know how I feel, because, well, it’s so hard to explain. I’ve been in love before. I’ve had boyfriends before, and one time for a strange and wonderful six months, I had a girlfriend before…
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“That’s a hate symbol, you know.” The voice came at me like a spear, interrupting my reverie as I considered the selection of apples at the grocery store. (Caleb loves the word “grocery”. He’ll roll it around in his mouth for hours if he’s in the mood, saying it different ways, emphasizing different parts, until…