Her heels‚ two sizes too small‚ clack as she walks down the narrow street. The long journey has taken a toll on her feet. Loud cries throb in the mind as her feet beg her to take her shoes off‚ the backs of them rub against her heels. Tall buildings like giants‚ tower above‚ fingertips brushing the pitch-black sky. The moon‚ a frozen sun‚ creating dancing shadows like a puppeteer. Her shadow‚ tall and slender‚ portrayed before her making her aware of her bad posture. The taste of the coldness of
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I woke up one April morning with the chickadees chirping rapidly in the tree branches. I threw my pants and socks on and rushed down the stairs as the smell of fresh bread assaulted my nose. Mom was already awake and greeted me with a slice of crispy toast‚ the butter was perfectly melted and seeped into the crust one squeeze‚ and it oozed out and dripped on the floor. Once I put my boots on‚ my feet were excited and before I knew it‚ I was flying out the door. One step outside and the smell of melting
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Finding my self within the middle of nowhere‚ I gaze the crystal moon standing with the exception of the coal black sky in the midst of lustrous crystal sparkles. The mist grasped within the air obscuring my vision like peering through a ocean of grey. The glow was dimming‚ producing new dark virtual portrayal patches around me. The wind hastily howled between abnormal branches‚ conveying the scent of rich tree decay. The air is thick‚ clammy with the puff of mouldering of leaves. The constant ticking
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It is the first time we have been here since the snow melted. The grass is three feet tall‚ as are the yellow tansies. We drive in on the dusty gravel road‚ hauling our campers and four-wheelers. The road twists‚ turns‚ rises‚ and falls with every second we drive. After a long wait in the vehicle‚ we arrive. I take the first step out onto the rough‚ rocky lawn‚ breathe in the fresh air‚ and make my way to the back of the truck. Dad and I get the camper ready as my brother unloads the four-wheelers
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The days were ticking down. Halloween was now less than a week away and the need for decoration was essential. In a town named Exitium‚ about thirty minutes away from the California-Oregon border‚ Halloween was a huge thing. Every year there was a decorating contest. The winner for five years in a row was a woman named Sarah Smith. This woman had short‚ black‚ bouncy hair. She was a single mother and had a foster child‚ Harris. While Harris was at school‚ Sarah was rushing around stores and malls
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It was a cold and windy night in the midst of October last year‚ and I was at my best friends’ house because she was hosting a little sleepover with a few friends. We had just finished watching some scary movies one after the other. She showed some frightening ones and some not so frightening‚ but they would give a hair-raising chill here and there. Around 1 to 2 a.m. all of the girls were starting to fall asleep‚ but my best friend‚ Mia‚ was not sleepy at all. I was dozing off slightly‚ but not
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making everything around Brendon and I dead quiet.We stood there our eyes wide in panic as we looked at each other frantically.We doubted the scream was from a teen tangler...but that could be a possibility. Brendon being the guy he was forgot all about his rave ache and stood in front of me protectively his eyes
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“Ava‚ wake up!” My mom buoyantly nudged me awake. I peeled open my eyes‚ blinking away the tired fog‚ and glanced around. I was in the shiny‚ midnight black jeep my family was renting‚ which had become tan from being continuously splattered by sand and mud. The car was parked next to a small cottage belonging to ‚ caked in bright pink and yellow paint. Proud roosters with long‚ shiny‚ satin feathers‚ squawked noisily. Lazy goats waddled around‚ nibbling on vibrant green grass. Short trees covered
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With a lawn chair slung over one shoulder and a large cooler in hand‚ I struggle to slam the trunk of my Ford Expedition. I embark on my trek up the steep‚ grassy incline to the field‚ making sure to feel my pocket for the bottle of Advil I promised to deliver. Besides the coaches meticulously raking the field and chalking the foul line‚ there is no one around. The rickety‚ rust coated bleachers remain barren in the sliver of shade. I unfold my chair‚ positioning it at the perfect angle to view the
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Here I was‚ the roar of the waves so loud and powerful that it could block out one’s thoughts. Faces all around me‚ a sternness visible like none other seen before. The waves crashed over the top of our landing craft‚ by now the cloth of every man was soaked through‚ but there was a bigger problem… The gunfire started‚ the cracking of gunfire that has become so normal in these times‚ the ambience that man had become used to. Is this the sound of death? Nobody spoke‚ looks of fear and agitation
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