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.