Golden tresses swayed in an ocean breeze. Bright green eyes glowed beneath a red bandana.
Waves crashed against the rocks below the cliffs with the thunder of memory. My fingertips brushed the faded colors.
The wind whipped the photograph from my hand. One step and the ocean swallowed my pain.
Suzi Harris is a retired technical writer working on her first novel with the support of her crazy Canadian husband and two psychotic cats.
The beach, fringed with come and go rhythm of ripples, stretches past walking distance both ways, dotted white seagulls rising above.
Quite unexpectedly, one is caught by the kite racing out to sea, into wind, against nature, before plunging to drown out of the boy’s reach far beyond the surf.
Ginger Hopkins lives in the Texas Hill Country on top of a mountain where she Celtic dances and teaches English Composition online for Brookhaven College in Dallas, Texas. She holds a BA and MA in English from TX A&M University.
He is dead.
I’m lying beneath the stars in this tranquil, idyllic paradise you built. Our own Eden. The clock ceased from ticking, the moon stripped of its shine, and I’m asking the leaves to teach me gently how to breathe.
Come back. It’s not too late, not too late.
Alex Alvarez is a pre-med student who wants to be a writer and not just someone who writes.
As I hugged her goodbye, I thought back on the great memories we’d shared together as siblings. It was just college, but I felt like she was going to be leaving my family forever. I ruefully let her go and watched the plane fly.
The news said it never landed.
Sam Dennis is a high school student who is involved with many writing courses, along with other extracurricular activities like sports, at his school. He enjoys listening to indie music like Bon Iver and Death Cab for Cutie, and playing guitar with his band. Let your personality prosper.
Bottles, half-alive mounds of clothing, sauce-stained plates, and dead cigarettes groan in a growing sea of torment. His children scream eerily, tearing round. Insane frenzy.
(Neighbors whisper. Shiftless.)
Blue eyes vacant, he sits in the wreckage, thinking of how she looked like a blooming tea rose before the casket shut.
Constance is addicted to writing, getting her inspiration from abandoned houses, panthers, and peanut butter.