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  • Fiction > Romance
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    Once upon a time a beautiful garden sat gracefully next to the porch of the master’s manor. The royal master tended it daily, taking great care as he pruned and watered the plants, creating a masterpiece more delightful and more lovely than any other garden in the kingdom. Spring was approaching...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Luciana was aware that she was invisible, and yet her best friend was the transparent one. He was sitting at his computer, typing a short paper in his dorm room as she stood concealed in the corner of the room. She watched Kendrick intently, taking in his every move and mentally recording it. This...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I was standing behind a boy and his mother at the grocery store. The boy was small, maybe in third grade, with long unkempt brown hair and bouncy legs. He was young. His mother, in contrast, looked like someone fighting for life and failing. Her body dropped with a heavy weariness from carrying he...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I was told to write about a bad experience in my life. I remember coming home once to my golden retriever, Agonía. Knock knock. Every night’s the same now. It was just me coming home, since my dad was dropping me off and had to go to work. Now I know he didn’t always do it. First night wasn...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Grace is really cute. I love the way that she holds eye contact with you when you talk. She also has about the softest brown eyes you’ll ever see, which makes it’s pretty much impossible for you to stop looking at her. Of everyone I have ever met on Earth, I think Grace is probably the...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It’s always hard to look back on your life. The failures, the emotions, and the complex threads of life that were so devastating when you were in them are unwoven from their quilt and laid side-by-side. What was once a spider-wed suddenly becomes a neat, rectangu-lar blanket that makes sense...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Pots slowly rose from his hiding spot behind the bush. He didn’t really know his ‘real’ name, and he didn’t know his ‘real’ birthday. He didn’t care, though. He may be homeless, but he had an identity. He called himself Potty, Pots for short. He didn’t know his real birthday, but he ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Every good story ends with a death. This is no exception. This will be a good story (I hope), and I will die at the end. Why do I tell you this? I don’t know. Maybe I just ruined my story. Who cares? Nobody is going to be reading this after I die. Let me make one more thing clear. This is not a...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I heard the first balloon pop. It was yellow, hardly blown up, and the loss of it didn’t really affect anybody. My younger baby sister started crying, but that’s all the trouble the balloon really caused. The party went on, and the popped balloon was kicked under the refrigerator and forgotten a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I feel like Atlas Holding the sky up Protecting everyone under it When never getting any rewards or rest myself As everyone eats and parties I'm stuck here Doing the hardest work in the world While everybody else prospers off my suffering And even as I protect everyone People still make...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I should probably mention my brother. We are…or more accurately were…strange siblings. We were twins. We looked the same, so much so that to be identified by our father, one of us had to wear a headband. We were the same height, same weight, same everything. We were equal. But not normally eq...

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