Storygram #33
The Castle on the Hill. They say it has the world’s most skilled archers keeping a constant watch. If so, they would have spotted us by now.
Storygram #32
The abandoned store gave him an uneasy feeling, as if the windows had eyes. He checked his GPS, which displayed an error of having no satellite connection, but he didn’t want to wait.
Storygram #31
I gaze over the concrete wall that stretches for miles, encircling us. It is there to remind us of where the electric barrier and our incarceration begins. They are scared of us.
Storygram #30
He walked over to his computer. All he had to do was press the “Enter” key and the entire city would be under his control, held hostage until they returned his patents.
Storygram #29
He headed north, with his six year old daughter asleep in the backseat. She was tough, and he knew she would be fine. He wasn’t as sure about himself.
Storygram #28
The fires are here. The smoke is billowing ahead of them and beginning to flow around me. It threatens to seize my lungs, choking me into submission for the flames’ easy consumption.
Storygram #27
No one blamed him. But he blamed himself. He erected a fence between the children and his work, to keep them safer.
Storygram #26
Path 86 was eerily quiet as usual. He just wanted to check the pipe for a blockage at the end and get back to the base as quickly as possible.
Storygram #25
The property taxes had steadily risen each year. Now, we were the last farm in the entire county, and our land had been sealed on every side by concrete.
Storygram #24
Her vigilant watch was earning her the nickname “Watching Whitney” among the townspeople. She barely slept, and her handmaiden brought her meals, which she barely ate.
Storygram #23
For eight years they had managed to stay hidden from the bands of rebels roaming the aftermath. But they found them.
Storygram #22
The Nobel Prize. An honor he had dreamed of achieving. In his dreams he would enter the stage riding on the applause of his colleagues and admirers.
Storygram #21
The lightning storms had become our main threat. Streaks that would surround and surge through entire cities like a fog–a fog that was blinding and deadly.
Storygram #20
Every Sunday afternoon my grandfather would be sitting at the table, waiting for me with a checkerboard laid out and all of the pieces in their proper squares. You had to take a jump–that was the rule.
Storygram #19
My iron black hair and my silvery metal fist for a left hand were how the peasants knew me. As soon as I walked across the drawbridge and through the gate, everyone froze.
Storygram #18
She meant to get lost… Liz grew up in the Appalachian hills, but living in New York City for three years was making her claustrophobic.
Storygram #17
The legendary man who won’t die. His hero. His mentor. “I’m not telling you where he is.” She laughed too hard for his liking.
Storygram #16
Every night it flooded up to the bottom of the deck. It was a tide that stretched for endless miles, covering all of Aeglyn–the flattest planet in the galaxy.
Storygram #15
Today, he would be encircled by thousands of people who had become a large predator. They told him he had ten minutes to present his case to the snarling beast. He didn’t know if it could be persuaded.
Storygram #14
They claimed minimum casualties from the cave-ins and climate change. We were gambling that we’d be smart enough to figure out a way to save our planet after they leave.