Teen Ink

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• Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
  The World We Live In

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  In the beginning, the streets weren't empty. At first, they were lined with bodies and begging hands, extended towards the survivors with open, pleading lips that revealed cracked tongues. At first, the buildings still stood halfway tall, the rubble only dropping to the ground when the weight o...
• Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
  Ruins of Grandeur

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  Two small, charcoal-colored legs dangled from the height of the bridge, the rest of the body holding itself up on a thick rod of rusted metal. The bars made creaking noises and threatened to collapse on themselves, but they held the little girl up, as she was light enough now to carry. A pair of glo...
• Poetry > Ballad
  The Man and I

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  A veil of black, Was stretched across the wall, The white worn paint, Chipping off the back. I turned and saw, A man across the way, Strong and tall, And to him I did say, "What is that I see upon your cheek? A drop, a tear, But still you do not speak. Sir, I can see you now, Your e...
• Poetry > Free Verse
  Another Season

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  A slate of glass is a barrier to winter, Holding back the harsh cold of breath That December blows. The brown sullen branches lean, Burdened with the weight of delicate snowfall, And the clouds blend with the solemn sky In a mess of grey and white. Songs sung in high, shrill voices cease As ...
• Fiction > All Fiction
  Madness

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  For a long time, the lines of text in his father's eyes flashed by, and crazed murmurs echoed the walls. Always silent was the house, the only sound being that of pencil scribbling furiously against paper. The boy sometimes stole a peek in through the workroom door, curiosity lingering in him f...
• Fiction > Historical Fiction
  Aspiration

  

  By Trinabird, Manchester, NH

  The sleek streets, glazed with a layer of rainwater, proved a great inconvenience to the squeaking tires of the boy's bicycle. Steering was nearly impossible, not only due to the weather, but also the rust keeping its handles stuck to the front of the contraption. By now, Jack was growing far b...