Storygram #194
My mom has never liked it when I leave our home on “safe and clean” Level 46.
Storygram #188
There used to be blankets of snow here. The few trees were bent under the weight of it, and the dirt underneath never saw the sunlight. It was an endless expanse of white. But everything started warming up.
Storygram #163
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.
Storygram #148
After a few more minutes, Molly looked at the time on the grandfather clock. She walked over to the door and stood with her hands folded. The music stopped, and everyone stood still, watching the door with smiles on their faces.
Storygram #147
The stacked stones that refused to fall greet me at the site of my most powerful memory. The trees have laid siege to it. The animals nest in its crevices. I touch the remains of my earliest home and feel that it is dead.