Teen Ink

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• Fiction > Realistic Fiction
  Simplicity, or Frank

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  Frank the painter was everything Tina promised he would be. He was hulking, handsome, boisterous, and sweaty. Think Marlon Brando in “A Streetcar Named Desire” – shirt ripped, drunken slur, yelling for his woman. No, Frank was not the sensitive type. He was not the kind to buy you roses and ...
• Fiction > Realistic Fiction
  In loving Memory

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  Darby Caroline Owens, age 16, was found dead in the parking deck of the Asheville Mall. The coroner reports that the cause of death was a methamphetamine overdose. Whether or not said overdose was intentional, he cannot say. He can only say that Darby died alone-- in a parking lot. She is ...
• Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
  Baby Alive

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  Mama don’t like it when I talk to my dolls. And she hates it when they talk back. “Maddie stop it!” she yells “You know I got bad nerves, you’re scaring me.” I don’t mean to scare her- swear to God I don’t. But I can’t ignore the dolls. There are too many of them to ignore. They...
• Fiction > Realistic Fiction
  The Honest Era

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  The remaining population of the world agreed: dishonesty, duplicity, and confidentiality were the root of humanity’s problems. They were promptly outlawed. However, the population had learned that outlawing something doesn’t eradicate it. People never do what they’re told. So we all wore si...
• Poetry > Free Verse
  Seven Ways of Knowing Gravity

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  1. Born into a planet’s orbit, stillness is a thing we never know. At best we match the world’s commotion. 2. Galileo climbs the steps at Pisa with a ball of wood and a ball of lead. His every breath is heavy. 3. Astronauts in orbit sleep with arms outstretched and raised, a...
• Fiction > Realistic Fiction
  Uncle Tony's Symphony

  

  By whotheeffisnia, Fayetteville, GA

  Uncle Tony‘s study felt like it was a part of a different house. As I walked in, a slouch snuck up and trounced my perfect posture; my runway-ready hair started to tangle. My shoes untied themselves. The study’s dark, wood-paneled walls were covered in glossy, autographed photographs of jazz mus...