The stars were what she liked most about the sky. Then, they started to fall.
Instructions: Explore the mindset of a character living in a world where everyone is dead. What would they live for? What would they want out of life? What would keep them going?...
The fire burns bright in the hearth, a flickering ghoul of blue flame. My hand traces across the mantelpiece above. A soft layer of dust mists my fingertips. I look across the room to the girl across from me. She is short and wide but willowy at the same time, like a sturdy sapling. Outfitted in a buttery yellow cardigan and black jeans stretching up her thighs. She looks so painfully normal here ...
“Why do you always look at me like I’ve just spat in your soup?”
Ciara sighed as she made eye contact with an all-too-familiar face. She mustered the will to keep her voice professional as she gazed upon the prosecutor.
“Anderson. I’m not here to make small talk.” She bent down and rifled her gloved hands through the pockets of the woman’s pants. Empty.
There is a rooftop above my quarters that all the couples sit on, and it is as pretty as they say. Adorned with rows of crawling, crying sage ivy and illuminated by the golden light that shines from the mess. The perfect place to talk. The perfect place to kiss.
It is right above my head and sometimes I can hear sobbing from up above. A breakup, perhaps, or a rejection. But I can never hear the a...
The only source of light in the catacombs is the torch burning bright in my hand, its flickering flames crackling softly next to my ear as I look out at the skeletal pathways laid out for me. I lift my torch a little higher. Flames swing across my vision, leaving blurry orange trails in their wake.
Skulls, rows of them, come into my vision. I suck in a deep breath. I’ve heard rumors about the cat...
You slide the bag across the table. The hooded figure opposite you peers inside. You scrutinize his face, watching for the slightest hint of emotion.
His face slips into sorrow. With trembling fingers, he picks up the bag. He looks back up at you.
“Where the hell did you find this?” he growls. His voice shakes. You straighten your back and stretch out your fingers. You’ve done this before, and yo...
The night of February 28th was a quiet one, scorned by the sounds of the harsh night winds whipping through the valleys and through the rivers, chilling the bones of any who dared to traverse empty plains. But for the Winchester family, the 28th was simply the beginning.
They all gathered in the family hall. Winston came first, his girlfriend Ally hanging off his arm. Then, Astrid, her sunglasses...
They came one by one, like the tides rolling into the beach. As the sun melted into the mountains, painting the sky with streaks of purple and orange, a fire was lit near the waves. Astrid tended to the spark, coaxing it into a flame.
“Astrid?” She turned to see Winnie, standing about ten feet away from her. “What are you doing here?”
