In a panic, she started to run. She ran through hallways that wound about and only led back into themselves. Rooms led to bigger rooms with more hallways, an endless house. All she wanted was to get out.
After Sharliam had wandered through the desert for several days without water, he collapsed into the sand. Every part of him wanted to sleep. He was ready to give up and walk into the welcoming arms of death.
She sat alone, moving a dress through a needle that pumped up and down. It was just a simple stitch job, but she was grateful for anything. She daydreamed about the days when she and her seven sisters all sat in the building, creating beautiful custom wedding gowns for giddy brides.
The trail wound through a diverse landscape, ducking in and out of forests and open spaces. It was the perfect place for him to ride his bike for miles and be completely undisturbed by humanity.
“The mountain has a living heart,” they said. It can feel—love, cry, hold a grudge. And the keeper of its heart dwells within it. An adventurer and explorer, Daniel Hollow had to know if it was true.
Marching down the sidewalk with our Student Conduct Handbooks in our right hands, I spot something skipping across the ground. As I get closer to it, I can see it has writing on it. Trash is rare, but artifacts from before the wars are even more so. I have to have it.
She opened her eyes. A bright light was blaring down at her, concealing the rest of the room behind a curtain of darkness. Her ankles and wrists were trapped under thick straps. She struggled to free her right hand from its strap but paused when a silhouetted figure blocked out a portion of the light.
Memories of being a student here, mostly of running to his classes, flooded his mind. They had hailed him as a child prodigy, a genius who chose their school above all the others, making him attend and speak at event after event.
Lights blare through the dome ceiling that encapsulates our city to protect us from the harsh environment of RECO 17. I like pretending that they are stars or moons, blazing across the sky of a planet that spins at twice the speed of our home world, Earth.
Two minutes until everyone would forget the mistakes they had made the previous year and look forward with renewed hope. But not her. In two minutes, she would begin remembering what happened one year ago at the same time and location where she now stood.
Quincy took a deep breath and reached for the stack of cards, struggling to keep his eyes focused enough to guide his hand. He had entered the tavern with 18 pieces. Now, most of it was either in his bottle or on the table.
Tree limbs scrape my face as I dash through a dense forest. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see nothing in the fog, but I can hear their dogs closing in on me. I pick up my pace to a treacherous speed.
His poetry had found its way all over the world but not from his voice. Inspired by the stories of desperate castaways, he began slipping short poems into an empty bottle and tossing them into the bay. They floated along currents, changed course in storms, and came to rest in the hearts of thousands.
Tillius Whitehall jotted down notes as fast as he could. He was the only one allowed to interview the trolls, and he wanted to make certain he accurately conveyed their grievances to the public. “So, Mr. Boggledung, are you saying that your people have never eaten any humans?”
The shotgun shells spilled onto the floor. With shaking hands, he bent down to grab a handful of them, shoving them into his coat pocket. The gun itself was so old and dusty that he wondered if it would fire at all, but he loaded it anyway, fumbling shells into the chamber.
The day is just right, enough to freeze the lake to a solid floor but no breeze to chill the bones. My thermos is filled with 16 ounces of hot cocoa, and my heart is filled with high hopes that the fish are biting.
An old candy cane made out of a pipe cleaner with alternating red and white beads slipped over it was the first ornament his daughter had made for him. It was also her last. He hung it on the tree, remembering that nothing lasts forever, but there are always memories to cherish.
The colonies have an agreement to provide rest, food, and shelter to the engineers, especially because of the danger their work can have. Groups of outcasts roam the continent and often attempt to hijack the trains to steal supplies. I am one such outcast.
The sun was climbing down off the the rooftops, warning her that her dinner meeting was a mile down the road in a few short minutes. But she couldn’t show up with a stained blouse, which was the result of an idiot with a coffee moments earlier.
Bananas were her favorite fruit because she had grown up being told to eat one every day, which she did. At the grocery store she frequented, they always had great bananas. She would take her time deciding on just the right bunch to bring home.