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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I am the white flower that is still standing up next to the weeds, the weeds with spiky hair and cold eyes. We both are straight, all the way up to the top, until my hair curls out in every direction and her petals catch the breeze. She grows with eyes open to the stars, and dreams of a world in the...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Maya. In Japanese, it means truth. In Sanskrit, it means illusion. The two syllables that are so familiar, yet when I say them aloud, mah yah, they stick out like marching soldiers. Rolling off of the tongue of a friend, though, my name means so much more than any baby name site could ever tell. It...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Dewdrop slippers Petal dresses whisper All are headed To the Dandelion Dance... Sweet pink lilies Sit on teacup shards Seeing the dandelions Swish their petals... Handsome foxgloves Waiting for a kiss From the beautiful, Lovely yellow Dandelion queen...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Emmy, I remember when I lived below you. You had the stairs and the deck; I had the grass with the tiny daisies singing songs in the wind. We watched the sunsets together, and found fairies, and dressed up for karaoke. You still live there, in that apartment up on the hill, with the white owl that l...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    You had to go at four o’clock, and it was Sunday. School tomorrow. We went to the beach – only an hour. We forgot the sting of the cold seawater biting at our toes as we talked, wandering down the shore. Summer, boys, pimples, belly fat. Life. It was crowded, a rare warm day, but we were alone t...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    My inner writer is the warm fuzzy blanket around me when I cuddle up with a mug of hot chocolate. My inner writer is a being made up of everything that I love - the crunching leaves under my feet, the salty licks that my dog gives me, the sadness and the joy, the dreams and the hopes. She is fabr...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    We walk slowly at first, my mom and I. My eyes reflect the brightly lit rows of stores, each one seeming just like all the others, neon and screaming “COME IN, CHOOSE ME!” I see the overwhelmed look on my mom’s face, her pale skin getting just a little bit paler, her dark eyebrows going up, up...
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