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Archive for the 'Issue 1.09' Category
(2 votes, average: 3.5 out of 5)
Loading …Sammie and Joshua never seemed to have enough money for anything. Even their clothes, although they looked new enough, were not really theirs. A few nights ago, Sammie overheard some adults talking about a Harvest Festival at the church down the street.
“You know they do this every year,” said one elderly woman to the other. “I don’t know what you’re so up-in-arms about.”
“These things,” said the other lady through clenched teeth, “always bring out the riff-raff and freeloaders that couldn’t find the end of their nose much less how to get a job.”
(7 votes, average: 4.14 out of 5) Loading …We were always poor, only I didn’t realize it until I was six.
I remember the time Benny and I went to the fair.
My mother had gotten some free tickets from the church on one of those rare occasions she went there to get groceries from the food bank. I still remember the glow of colored lights and the assortment of strange people, the smells of popcorn and animals, the sound of kids squealing and crying and the synthesized tunes from the spinning, flashing rides. We would watch parents buy cotton candy for their kids and hand it to them with fistfuls of tickets to be spent on various attractions. How I wished I was one of those kids, especially the ones who tugged on their parents’ arms, pointing and begging them to let them ride on the back of one of the magnificent ponies.
(4 votes, average: 3.75 out of 5) Loading …|| July 4, 1905 | State Fair | Raleigh North Carolina
Buck Craver ran to catch up with his sister, Elizabeth. She finished her sprint, and clutched onto a red metal frame. Inside the fence, children mounted on ponies, traveled in an endless circle, as “Pa” guided the whole affair. It was a penny a ride, and Elizabeth debated on spending so much of her pocket change in just one place.
“Why’d you stop here?”, Buck said after catching his breath. His sister was a full year older and she never let him forget it. Papa often told him he’s outgrow her one day, but Buck wasn’t so sure. He’d start school come Labor day, and then he’d see how much he measured up against the other boys.
(5 votes, average: 3.6 out of 5) Loading …So what did I do? I did exactly what you would have done. I took two steps back and closed the bathroom door. To my credit, I didn’t slam it. Instead, keeping my eyes locked with the wizard - why mince words, why try to rationalize, it’s obviously what he was- I slowly reached out with my right arm, grasped the handle, and swung the door closed, the latch making a gentle click as it snapped into the door frame. I looked down at the handle and counted slowly in my head to ten. The handle was carved, like the head of the wizard’s staff, in the shape of a dragon head. The tongue dangled obscenely out of the mouth, looping to the door to form the main bulk of the handle. I took a deep breath, and opened the door again.
The old man remained in the field. The impossible field. I turned on my heels, and started walking towards the door of the store. When I had taken a few steps, the skin in between my shoulder blades began to itch, as if I were being targeted for a knife in the back, so I began a shambling jog that quickly turned into a sprint.
(4 votes, average: 3.5 out of 5) Loading …Jill stood in the center of the Trieste Centrale station, looking up at the train schedule. With Carlo’s forty Euros, she had just enough for a ticket to Rome, and twenty minutes to spare. She walked to the ticket counter and purchased a one way fare.
She turned from the counter warily, her eyes scanning the wide room to see if Carlo might have followed her here. She didn’t think he would. He had said he was on his way to the piazza for some reason and hopefully that reason would keep him there. She felt a small pang of guilt for taking his money; he’d been a really nice guy. But she needed it more than he did, and the ends justified the means in her limited perspective.
(2 votes, average: 3.5 out of 5) Loading …Seven ponies walked in a circle. Day after day, their existence was bleak. They could no longer remember much about growing up, or playing as little ponies with their friends and families. The only place they could find solace was in telling stories as they trudged around and around, carrying little children, listening to their laughter, licking up their spills.
“In Mary’s Land, there’s an ass named Teague. He has an island where the horses and ponies still run free,” said Splinter, the unofficial leader of the group.
“Let’s go!” said his best friend Shadow.
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