Short Story

Silent. At the edge of the sky there was a magnificent white patch, a turning page, catching the sun. The rest was ivory grey, with a subtle hint of mauve, just enough to announce the coming sunset. Scanning the horizon were the white cotton balls on cerulean satin, with a subtle layer of dove grey underneath, which was thin enough to let the light through. Stood there like a ghost, a silent observer of the venerable castle, and the clouds. The colossal mountains were shielding the inferior castle. Beyond the towering mountains was a decrepit, venerable and ancient castle like structure. The azure roof was coated and concealed by the thick opaque dust. The roof was as dusty as an abandoned warehouse floor. It was an elderly going paler as it got older and ancient. As I nonchalantly walked up the moaning narrow staircase, a thick mist of cold crisp air blew through me, rustling my hair and sending a chill down my spine.

Knowing you have a mate gives you a strange type of high. You know you'll never be able to hold him, or love him or even admire him from afar without getting slander from the whole pack and yet, you still somehow find yourself hoping that maybe this is the moment when you finally break out of the prison of an isolated life.

tubes,” Phillip confessed. “But, I guess I really didn’t have time to look for them either,” he then added. “For me, it wasn’t long before two guys started chasing me down as I tried to run. But they caught me and then I imagine they put me back in my tube. Then, I was back here.”

Arthur showed up at Gwen’s apartment at 9:00 sharp. When he saw her, he grew concerned. Truly, she looked awful, with her complexion wan, her eyes feverish and glassy, and she was bundled up in sweats and a winter scarf.

When they entered the ballroom area, the room moved around them like clockwork. Fathers and daughters swirling in synchronization around the center that sat the little orchestra playing a haunting tune. The girl’s dresses flounced out, as their heads were thrown back, eyes closed. The guys of the pair moved to the left, narrowly avoiding some of the spinning couples to come into contact with the most stereotypical male bar room, he had ever seen. Cigar smoke layered over head as fathers and sons took generous sips of whisky and chuckled with their ironically flamboyant hand gestures. The boy seemed to shrink under the atmosphere, and felt a claustrophobic nausea as he made his way closer and closer to the bar. The man working behind it

“All of them fought to get that room. It was a privacy issue I guess; well Oliver won,” Mr. Ackroyd told him. “He’s the quietest one, often has times that he prefers being alone. He’s very social otherwise. They all have loads of friends.” He decided that Neil could go up there another time. Oliver would take him.

Perhaps the oddest part of moving in with her uncle was the archaic list of rules that outlined how all house guests should act. It was handed to her shortly after decorating her room and presented with minimal conversation before he hustled back to his study. The office itself wasn't off limits like the mysterious room connected to the wine cellar, but the girl couldn't even construct a narrative that would remotely grant her access under plausible means. With the self-care rules and the strange forbidden place, the entire mansion felt anything but homey. Alone in any room she felt an odd presence; the same sensation one had while being followed down a dark alley. It was an oppressive sensation that she could practically feel each morning

Over the course of his years upon this earth, Draco Malfoy had seen many shocking things, mostly thanks to his psychotic - and mercifully deceased - Aunt Bellatrix and her sadistic ophidian Dark Lord. Yet despite all of the horror he'd witnessed during the last war, no act of violence, no streak of depravity, no one person had ever, ever come close to shocking him nearly as much as Hermione Granger just had.

Kudzu got some fresh cat food and water in his usual spot, and Sophia set up to feed Paloma on the opposite side of the kitchen. The kitchen table was set for four, and Sophia was the last to sit down, opposite Andy and between Barbara and Chip, who both reached out their hands to her. She put her hands in theirs, and Chip bowed his head and delivered the shortest prayer Sophia ever heard. “For what we have received, we give thanks. For what is to come, we say, ‘Yes!’”

Both Mark and I both slammed the car doors and walked in opposite directions. One home perched over the glistening sands of Malibu housed a famous rocker who regularly hired my father for album covers.

Laughter of young men floated through the air like chimes on a breezy day as they sparred amongst each other near the barracks of Highgarden. As young Lords of the Reach, they all had dreams of finding glory for themselves as knights. Yet only one of them had been anointed, the future Lord of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell, whom many believed his Lord father had bought the title rather than earned it by his own merit. Having just turned seven-and-ten not three moons prior, one could see glimpses of the man Mace would become. Tall with broad shoulders, his scalp was covered with thick, curly brown tendrils of sweaty hair that dangled loosely over his brow covering hazel eyes as his bulky body heaved for breath from the exertion. His strong jaw is

Last week, dressed in her tailored suit and mile-high red heels, Morgana walked into the neighborhood watering hole in the Bronx. The pub was dim, crowded, and smelled like stale beer and musky cologne, but despite the irritating odor, she enjoyed the drinks and the laid-back atmosphere, even if she stuck out like a sore thumb when she came dressed in business attire straight after work. But that didn’t really matter, because she and her crowd were celebrating Merlin’s master’s degree by consuming nachos, wings, and beer. It was a fine night to let loose and chow down on greasy food. After all, this was Merlin, who worked so hard at his two jobs, teaching grade school and tutoring disadvantaged kids at the community center, all while

How are we supposed to go in deeper? It’s not like we have a submarine!” “But we do!” Willow exclaimed suddenly. “Huh?” Me and Scarlett asked at the same time. “Well, at least my dad does. He works for the Marine Biology Center, and he can take us down in a submarine!” Willow told us excitedly. “Great! Let’s go!” exclaimed, already running down the driveway. Willow and Scarlett hopped on their bikes that were parked in my driveway, and I got mine out of the garage. Then we set off to the Marine Biology Center.

“He’s a businessman with a diversified portfolio.” This was true. Her father owned many buildings around the city as well as the team. She had not lied. “How about you, what do you do for a living?”

Baby birds in the trees, small droplets on blades of grass, and the petals of newly born flowers on one spring day when the boys, covered in dirt muck and with marker residue on their hands stopped, which is not very common for a group of young and vibrant boys, on their way home from school, their least favorite part of every day, to drink, as they were very thirsty from their long walk of almost two miles from school to their houses, from a puddle along the little--used country road. They, having the potential of future engineers, used sheets from their spelling workbooks, which they hardly used anyway to make paper cups that flopped, leaked, and crumbled.