I’ve been writing since 4th grade and I really want to improve my skills. I love comments and talking to other writers, so please message me if you want to!
I’ve been writing since 4th grade and I really want to improve my skills. I love comments and talking to other writers, so please message me if you want to!
“Never trust a survivor until you know what they did to survive.” The queen’s voice carries throughout the banquet hall, vibrating in Maeve’s chest.
The quiet shuffle of fabrics ruffling together and the clink of crystal wine glasses almost drown out the Queen’s stern lecture. All faces turn to her, their low chatter hidden behind masks of diamonds and bright silks. Covering their snickers with g...
“I didn’t know Grandpa was a Nazi,” Adria snorts, holding up a wooden box.
“What?” Wren marvels, biting back a laugh. She drops the old journal she’s been reading and scrambles to Adria’s side.
Adria traces the Nazi symbol painted on the box, the old red paint flaking off. “I can’t believe he was a Nazi.”
Wren shoulders Adria and rips the box from her hands. “Open it up.” She unties the leather...
It has been a full year since the accident, the night Constant met death. Suffocating next to a corpse, smelly and rotten, haunts her dreams. Her nights are plagued with nightmares of _him_. It has been a year, yet she still can’t believe he is gone. She knows he isn’t; he is only waiting in the shadows for her to let her guard down, ready to slip back into her life. How poetic it would be, coming...
I stared down at the blood on my hands. “Oh no.” I mutter as I feel the color drain from my face. “I killed the wrong person.”
Thomas barrels into the room, his black hair flopping over his pale face. He stared down at the old lady, her blood pooling on the floor. “You shot the target’s grandmother!”
“I didn’t mean to!” I whine, feeling the tears surface. “She started asking questions ab...