Chapter 1 Short Story

When she was finished, she knew what she had done had been awful. She stood up, did her curtsey, and slowly walked back to her seat. She tried not to cry as she felt every eye in the room fixed upon her, and as she endured the pain from some of the negative comments some people sitting

She quickly reached her hands over her head to protect herself from the pain she would soon endure. She squeezed her eyes so tight, trying to keep herself from crying in her last moments alive.

She hasn’t cried, not a single tear had been shed since he left. There was no reason behind it. Why couldn’t she break down and let the tears flow? She would give anything to have her regrets washed away by the sadness in her heart and feel the pain and sorrow she endures dissipate? Perhaps it would be better

She was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the car in front of her. Clearly, she had not been expecting this question. James should feel guilty; he had not intended for her to nearly get in an accident herself. For some reason, however, a haughty smile crossed his lips, and he quickly turned away long enough to hide said smile.

Hinton, an amiable tobacco planter in Virginia, inspected the mill infrequently and trusted him to make an honest trade. There was no way to forecast when loggers would arrive, depending on the weather and the wind and water currents so Matthew remained available year-round. He was tall, burley with bushy, red hair, and freckles that almost connected into a solidly tan face. People never forgot him because his freckles were such an assortment of colors, red, brown, tan, beige, pink, auburn, rust, black, and orange. He entertained visitors with stories of animals and men fighting themselves and each other along with spine-tingling stories about ghosts and Indians that intimidated the settlers. If they were true, it did not matter.

Lifty huffed, snuffing his cough back into his throat as he chucked Petunia into his bedroom.

Three days passed before Jingyan took a trip to Su Zhe's residence, following a familiar path to a destination with a wholly different sort of anticipation. He made his visit at night, when there were less watchful eyes and more shadows to hide his trail. When he finally stepped into the courtyard of plum blossoms, he detoured to the pond before entering the still-lit room of the house.

He’d been embarrassed at what had occurred back at the old Homestead, and she had borne it with her own desires. But if that was a moment, what was this going to be? She’d given him an out, as he had with her earlier, but neither had withdrawn.

“...call this meeting to order?” A deep, masculine voice spoke. Triven wasn’t quite sure who it belonged to. He hadn’t heard it before.

She felt as if she was trapped, in an endless void of grief. As if she was trapped in a room, and the door was locked and she had no way out. If only she looked a little harder, walked a little further, she would have found that the walls were open. She could be free, only if she allowed herself to be, only if she let

“There you are….was looking all over for you.” The words were hollow, rehearsed verses fitting for an unpracticed school play. Aisling didn’t buy it, likely he had known where she was the entire time. She stepped forward until they were within one another’s reach and he released his hands from his pockets. “I admit I was rather surprised you contacted me. Your text said you wanted to talk. So…” he shifted cagily, discomfort plain on his face as his syllables trickled away. Opening her mouth, she found herself with nothing to say…or perhaps she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Noting her internal struggle, Mallory offered a weak smile before it crumbled as easily as milk-soaked cookies. “I know…it won’t help you or erase what was done but…for what it IS worth, I am so sorry.” Not as sorry as she would be, Aisling wanted to argue but instead she closed her mouth and mimicked his expression, only hers was produced with more

It was an escape route if she ever saw one. He gave her an open excuse to use and even time to cover up her telling marks. So why did she hesitate to reply? Her mind worked though possibilities fast, flipping from one logic to next before finally chastising herself for over analyzing his words.

“I-It’s okay, I guess. I take a fiction-writing class meant for juniors” Cath answered, hesitantly at first, gaining more confidence as she spoke. “To be honest, I wanted to drop out after 1st semester and I didn’t do my final assignment, but the teacher gave me a second chance and someone convinced me to not to take it for granted.”

From the moment George rolled up in the car next to him, John knew that this night wasn’t going to end well for him.

Serena’s breath just stopped and she tilted her head back to let out a wail, pushing herself out of her chair. For a moment she just stood there, tears sliding down her cheeks. She’d wipe them away quickly. “I-I...can’t take it anymore...I’ve been through so much…”