My Temporary Window Art
The rain steadily falls,
Read More →
Read More →
View:
Issue: <span>November/December 2013</span>
The rain steadily falls,
Read More →
Read More →
Her eyes snapped open, instantly awake. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped out, fully dressed. Lightly, she padded down the hall and through the house. Cautiously, she cracked the sliding-glass door open, wincing as it squealed across the floor. She froze, half expecting her father shouting to “get back to bed this instant or else.” Luckily, the house remained silent and she slipped out of the apartment and onto the balcony.
Read More →
Read More →
Is this a dream? I’m walking through the birch trees half covered in melting snow as the breaking of dawn comes closer and closer to the snow-covered forest. The swift breeze is blowing against my face, making my hair blow in the wind as the broken leaves get blown into the sky far away. The snow, as soft as fur, is giving me time to think about what’s going on and it feels as if nothing in the world could ever disturb this peaceful moment in time.
Read More →
Read More →
The Mighty Miss Malone, by Christopher Paul
Read More →
Read More →
Florence wiped her brow with her winter mitten, plunged her shovel into a giant mound of soft snow, and leaned on it for a break. She was almost finished. Her Uncle Larry had suggested that she shovel snow to make money for Christmas presents, and he had been right; it did pay well. But he had mentioned nothing about how much work it was or how sore her muscles would be after shoveling just three driveways. She was hard at work on her fourth, Mr. Crummbino’s, with only a small patch of snow to shovel.
Read More →
Read More →
It happened Christmas Day. I had gone outside to check on my ducks, when Scooter, the male pompom-headed Bali duck, came out from under the porch. I figured he had been sleeping down there. I crawled under to check on the girls, Cheepers and Smiley, who would probably be under there still asleep. Ducks always stay in flocks and our three always stuck together. Whenever we found one of the ducks alone, it meant something was probably wrong. But when I looked, the girls weren’t anywhere to be seen. I checked in the bushes next to the front porch, thinking maybe they were under there and I just hadn’t seen them. They weren’t under there either. I looked around wildly, trying to figure out where they could have gone. Scooter seemed to be just realizing that they weren’t with him and began to quack, looking worried.
Read More →
Read More →
Amy made her way through the house. It was nice being able to live out here in the country. Not having to wake up to tooting trains or honking cars as she did when she lived in Seattle. True, they now lived by the highway, but at least the cars and trucks that drove by didn’t make such a racket as they would in the nearby town of Coeur d’Alene where there was traffic and stoplights.
Read More →
Read More →
Summer of the Wolves, by Polly Carlson-Voiles;
Read More →
Read More →
Carl looked out the window. He could barely see the park across the street because of the fog. He had to stay at his house all day today because of the fog warning. Now all he had to do was to get his baby sister to bed so he could sit back and relax. She had had her bath and was in her pj’s and ready for bed. When he looked back at his living room, he groaned. The day had been a long one, and the whole living room was a wreck. Lego pieces scattered everywhere on the floor and white shreds of paper taped to the table. His baby sister apparently was having a blast. His parents had gone out for a meeting before the fog set in, leaving Carl to babysit his messy sister.
Read More →
Read More →
“This is dangerous,” I say. The cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles my hair. But I keep climbing up the old rusty ladder, trying to ignore my numb hands and my pounding heart and the fact I’m over twenty feet in the air.
Read More →
Read More →