fiction
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I snapped the photo, catching Jack looking out across to our old middle school. His silhouette was the only thing seen on this foggy fall morning with the faintest view of our old high school. The image created an atmosphere of doom and gloom. Jack turned back to me after taking the photos and asked…
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There is a bridge that connects two places. Two places that are different but the same. Both in the same city but on separate sides of the street. I have walked this bridge and it is unlike any other I have or probably ever will travel over. I had been working in a candy store…
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Sometimes I just write using a prompt tool. I think it is fun to share where the writing mind is going. Pay For Betrayal The bed creaks, the springs worn from time, and the blankets smell of age. I’m unable to move and notice the gray sky above me. Am I dead? Suddenly, the earth…