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  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    “Wake up!” The voice echoes several times in my head before pounding its way into my unconscious mind. At the sound of it, I stir, and struggle to sit up. My eyes are heavy and my mouth tastes like copper, but I ignore the grogginess and continue to search for the owner of the strange voice...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I felt like an idiot, sucking on that cigarette. It was three in the morning and I was huddled up on my roof with nothing but a pair of old shorts and a cardigan to protect my skin. The sky was pitch black and the night was cold as ice, and there were a million other things I would have rather been ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    My face hurt. I was tired and upset and just about ready to collapse. My homework was sitting open on my desk, my uneaten dinner beside it. “I made you’re favorite,” my mother had said. “Come and eat with me.” I refused. I couldn’t face her. I blamed it on homework. ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Someone was in the house. How the h*ll had someone gotten into the house? And I was alone. Cr*p. I clenched my hands into fists, tangled messes of my sheets held within them. My heart started thumping in my ears as I tried to get ahold of myself. What were they looking for?...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You’re funeral was the worst. Everyone was crying. But no one more than me, Trying to sell a smile no one was buying. It wasn’t because of how you passed, Or the words they carved on your grave. It was all the memories you had of us, Every bit of them gone to waste. I guess I shouldn...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I watch through the wooden slits, my hands clenched tight. I want so badly to look away. I want nothing more than to tear my eyes away from the hideous scene, but I can’t move. I’m frozen to the spot; every inch of my skin colder than ice. My eyes burn, though. The tears burn, too. They singe my...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    As I sit in the waiting room, my shaking hands curled together, I begin to think of my father. He was a nice man. At least, his intensions always were. There a few things I will never understand, like why he divorced my mom, or why he lied to me about it. But he always taught me to forgive. I ...
  • Art /
    Photo > Computer Graphics
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  • Art /
    Photo > Computer Graphics
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