It was a day that could only be described as miraculous. After months of starvation and drought, the clouds finally gathered and the rains poured down. The earth greedily soaked up the provision from heaven itself. The naiads and dryads that had shrivelled up along with the rivers and trees suddenly sprang back to life, … Continue reading Writeober Day 24: Rain
Author: E.J. Robison
Writeober Day 23: Space
Electra has watched age after age of the universe pass by. It’s difficult to compare her life to ours because her surroundings and experiences are so entirely different. She doesn’t know what a home is, or what a tree looks like. She’s never seen water. And in contrast, we don’t understand complete and utter silence … Continue reading Writeober Day 23: Space
Writeober Day 22: Beautiful
It can’t be seen, but it’s there, always. It manifests itself in different ways, but no matter what it looks like, it’s beautiful. Sometimes it’s a hug or a hand to hold. It can be a gentle word or a song. It can even be a good deed or just a simple thought. The world … Continue reading Writeober Day 22: Beautiful
Writeober Day 21: “This, this makes it all worth it.”
Despite the life-threatening situation, I cheered. I hadn’t thought I’d get this far. I hadn’t even thought I’d escape the station alive. I’d put every single hope on this, and somehow, it was paying off. I was nearly jostled out of my seat by a forceful blast and I reminded isles that I was in … Continue reading Writeober Day 21: “This, this makes it all worth it.”
Writeober Day 20: Monster
Monsters come in many shapes and sizes. Some may be obvious from their outward appearance, while the monstrous qualities of another may lie entirely on the inside. This is why monster hunting was a difficult job for Arthur Peer. If he captured someone who looked or acted like a monster and they ended up not … Continue reading Writeober Day 20: Monster
Writeober Day 19: Wind
I am unlimited. I have no shape or form. I move about as I please, slave to no man’s will. I wear many faces, perform many functions. I am fear. I am comfort. I am the voice of the one who made me. I am stillness. I am rage. I am the heart of the … Continue reading Writeober Day 19: Wind
Writeober Day 18: Picking Apples
If the cool, crisp air of the winter’s morning hadn’t already brought about a spirit of cheer in the heart of Meg Walton, then the prospect of apple picking surely would have. She had lived her whole life without going apple picking, but now that her family had moved to Tennessee, it was an easy … Continue reading Writeober Day 18: Picking Apples
Writeober Day 17: Whispers
It was a whisper that started it all. The word was so soft that the King didn’t hear it until it became more than a whisper. It became talk. It became an idea. Next, it would become reality. The King retreated into his castle, throwing out anyone who breathed or thought the word. It spread … Continue reading Writeober Day 17: Whispers
Writeober Day 16: Thunder
It always scared me as a kid, thunder did. Sometimes the storms would be bad enough to rattle the house a bit. It was funny, though. I was never scared of the lightning. Now, all of those fears are coming back to me, though I’m grown and far from home. The thunder here isn’t just … Continue reading Writeober Day 16: Thunder
Writeober Day 15: Home
Adaline watched out the carriage window as the only place she’d ever thought of as home disappeared from view. When she considered it, she wasn’t sure if she really knew what home was. All the stories said that home was somewhere you belonged, but she’d never felt like she belonged at the orphanage. The only … Continue reading Writeober Day 15: Home
The Story Canvas 