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
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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
Writeober Day 14: Owls
Zander gazed at the magnificent creature before him. It was huge, too huge for him to even think of it as a bird, and it had the biggest unblinking eyes he’d ever seen. On top of that, it boasted a fearsome hooked beak—he’d learned at school that birds of prey had those in order to … Continue reading Writeober Day 14: Owls
Writeober Day 12: Nimble
No one ever saw me. I came and went, venturing out of my hiding place in the woods to have some fun with the humans. I stole trinkets from pockets, chased after ducks, and scared children. But no one ever saw me. They only ever saw the aftereffects of what I’d done. Missing items. Angry … Continue reading Writeober Day 12: Nimble
Writeober Day 11: Seaside
The air she breathed was the freshest she’d ever tasted. There was just something about it; not only was it salty, but there was a crispness that you just couldn’t find anywhere else. Mary took a good look out at the beach, the sand, the waves, the sunbathers all packed together like sardines. Above it … Continue reading Writeober Day 11: Seaside
Writeober Day 10: Tree
I remember the days of horses. Then the clatter of carriages. Next, the cars that filled the air with smoke. I’ve been here for a long time, you see. I don’t quite know how long. All I know is that I’ve watched the world grow and change and turn into a different place entirely. Once, … Continue reading Writeober Day 10: Tree
Writeober Day 9: Glass
It was as if someone had taken the biggest glass bowl in the universe and dropped it on top of a planet. This specific planet’s surface was covered with thick blue marshes, meaning that when the glass bowl had shattered, the pieces had stuck fast in the ground and created a perilous, jagged landscape. (Of … Continue reading Writeober Day 9: Glass
The Story Canvas 