Apr 16

A Tree's Memories

The darkness is warm and heavy, comforting almost.
I can feel the sunlight upon my tough shell, so unlike how it felt to drift down, spinning and absolutely uncaring for the world, before settling here at my mothers feet, upon the hearty, green moss.
The tough but gentle hands that intricately selected me off the ground carefully peel back my outer coat, leaving me bare against the open air. Then the hands gingerly close around me, again encasing me in blackness.
When the fingers unfurl once again, I am only free for a second before they dump me into a tiny hole in the soil, and cover me with it.
It was there that I took root, there that I was watered and nurtured.
And it was there that I grew.
Dec 22

Swing Summer

We go, that afternoon, to the tallest swings in town. We have to, because we are the tallest kids. Not as tall as our parents, yet, but our legs are long enough that when we go to the smaller swingset, we scrape them on the ground. I meet my best friend on the corner in front of my house and we walk the rest of the way together. The sidewalk is hot with the summer sun, so hot that I say I can feel it through the soles of my shoes. She says that's silly. She's called Alice. She's not older than me, but she wants to be.

We meet Sam and Isaac at the corner of the playground. They got there earlier but waited for us, leaning against the fence and talking about Isaac's new bicycle. Sam has dark, curly hair that he keeps up in a hat. He has a little brother but didn't bring him today. "Where's Teddy?" I ask him.
"Home. He's having a birthday party?"
"How old is he turning?" asks Alice.
Isaac snorts. "Imagine being so excited about turning ten."
Nov 09
fiction 3 comments challenge: Club

This guy asked me to join his club

"Mate, this guy just asked me yesterday if I wanted to join his club."

"Woah, what'd ya say?"

"Well obviously I asked him what it was about, you know?"

"Don't tell me it was some kinda cult or somethin' freaky like that."

"Geez no, he said it was a book club."

"Oh yeah? Sounds chill."

"And then I asked him if you could come, cause I thought you would love to go."

"Aww that's sweet."

"But then this jerk is like "No way your friend's got issues" 





"Haha oml, thanks for that"

"No problem mate, anyone that's got beef with you has got beef with me"
Oct 19

The Jump

The Jump
My feet crunched the snow as my thick boots led me toward the hill. It was mid-winter, a warmer day than most, and the tramping was making my forehead sweat. My friend Clementine was ahead of me, my short legs and puffy snowsuit weighing me down-and slowing me down. Finally, I reached the top of the hill. I sat down, not caring if my butt got wet or not. Mindlessly, my mittens picked up a ball of snow and packed it evenly. This was the best packing snow of the winter. It was the perfect mixture of wet and fluffy, a combination rare at least to Vermont. Judson, another friend, was thinking the same thing.
Dec 05

Ten Days of Winter, 1892

Editor's note: In the 11+ years of this site, I have shared only a couple of things on the belief that this is your site, not mine. But I am sharking this because, well, becaue I thought you might like to read/listen to it and, also, to see that some stories take a long time to develop. I'd love some feedback -- this is your chance! :) 

I wrote this piece of fiction for Winter Tales 2017 and it was presented by Vermont Stage in its shows Dec. 6-10, 2017 at FlynnSpace. (It also was going to be presented at a similar winter story show in East Montpelier on Dec. 16.)

Audio download:
Feb 13

The House

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on vermontwritesday.org on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)
Feb 13

The Pendant

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on vermontwritesday.org on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)

The old iron bell jangles as I step into the familiar shop. I wave to the owner, a kindly old gentleman, who smiles at me as he always does and says hello. He seems to appreciate my visits, even though I don't often buy anything. 

I make my way through a maze of old bookshelves and chairs, paintings, vases and other miscellaneous objects. I know almost all of it by memory and can tell whenever the store has sold something. 
Apr 22

the grave

Mama is anxious this morning. Her hands, slim and smooth, like lettuce leaves, tremble slightly as they clutch the handle of Kamilla’s pram. We are headed into town, as we did daily, to fetch the loaf of bread that is permitted to each family in our community.

Klaud is walking ahead, as usual. Tati has made Klaud’s responsibilities as the oldest very clear. As soon as Klaud is of age, he is to join the Nazi Party. Tati supports the Nazis- he’s a Party member. Klaud spends a lot of time in our living room, crouched by the burning wood, listening to Tati list off all the acts Klaud will have to follow through with as soon as he is older. It seems to me that Tati already has a foot in the future; he is always three steps ahead of everyone else.
Apr 21
Jen L.'s picture

The Journal

I think I discovered a journal of a superhero. I was walking on my merry way when something fell out of the sky and bonked me on the head. I looked around for what might have hit me and I saw a journal on the ground. I’m a nosey person, I can’t help it, so I picked it up and went to the park to read it. I sat down on the bench and read away.

It was like someone was making up a story, but the story sounded oddly familiar and the powers the person gained was the ones of the superhero that flies around the city and helps citizens and stops evil doers. If someone like that wasn’t from around here, then I would have thought that it was a story someone made up and accidentally pushed it out the window, but no. I knew who it belonged to. So the next time I was saved by that superhero, I gave them back their journal. I said,

    “I think you dropped this” and the superhero stared at me, I think in fear, so I then said,
Apr 20
vvalliere's picture

I knew I shouldn't have.

Hi, I have a best friend, well I'm pretty everyone has a best friend, its the one person you would trust and the one person you tell everything to. I thought I had it all. A perfect boyfriend that was always there for me no matter what, amazing friends but most importantly my best friend. But the one thing me and my best friend did is we never ever looked in each other's journals because even best friends need to write something down that they didn't want you to know. But lets just say that I was starting to get suspicious of my best friend because yeah like I get it she doesn't want to me to see what she has written down in it, but seriously  every time I would pick it up and move it so I would be able to sit down she would get so bad and scream at me and tell me to get out. Ok like I know  get people like there privacy but this was getting out of hand.
Apr 19


   I looked up from my laptop, my fingers pausing their dance across the keys. The clinking of cups on saucers and aroma of fresh espresso filled the quiet coffee shop, the scent seemingly emitting from the walls. From my quiet and cozy corner, I could see the entirety of the shop. From the local art delicately hung upon the walls, to behind the counter where the worker on shift was swaying slightly to the music playing from his headphones, but I could also see her.

   She sat at the far table, right next to the window. The golden afternoon sunlight shown softly through the glass, catching her chocolate colored hair in the light. I felt my vision tranfix on her, hypnotized by the way she carefully flipped each page of her history textbook, and the way her feet, fitted in beat up white converse, tapped the rustic wooden floor, as though to the beat of a song only she could hear.
Apr 17
gagnona's picture


    You step into the attic of what is now the house that your family owns but you know will never be home. It is completely dark except for the thin sliver of light that shines out from the stairwell which you just stepped out of. You feel along the wall, it's rough, unsanded, boards covered in dust and cobwebs. Your fingers find a switch, and you push it up. A single bulb struggles to turn on in the center of the room. Around you there are piles of boxes heaped up against the wall their contents spilling out onto the floor. A single journal lies in the center of the floor and you move over to it, lift it up, and open it to the first page. Inside, a loopy handwriting reads; For Parker, when the time is right. You trace the words as you read then pull your finger back, realizing. That's your name in the same handwriting your grandma had. You flip through the journal until you find the last entry, 12/03/14. But wait, you think, she died in 2001.
Apr 17

The First Day ~ Warning: I puked

It was my very first day of kindergarten at a brande new school. I was twice as nervouse as anyone else around me. I awoke that moring at 7:30 AM, got my little red dress and black vest on. My mother packed my lunch and my school bag. Then my mother cooked my sister and I pancakes. I got my little black and nude sandels on and my mother, sister, and I all walked to my bus stop that was 10 feet from my door, and so my mother sent me off to school on the bus. school was about a 15 minute drive. 5 minutes after the bus picked me up my stomach was starting to get upset... 5 minutes later my breakfast, cam back up and I puked on the floor under me. Little old me thought if i could see it o one else would, so I hovered my feet over it so I couldn't see. it was not noticed until about 2 minutes before I got to school. the teacher gave me a trash can. When i got to school i went sraight to the nurse. My mom came and drove me home, and i spent the rest of the day watching T.V.
Apr 15
kittykat12's picture

this writing has gone poof!!

Apr 14
Jen L.'s picture

Swinging With Friends

The group of friends on the swings have been friends for a very long time. Since kindergarten. They’ve never fought and never will. Every moment they’re together, they’re having fun. They’ve decided to chose this hot summer day to meet at the park and play. Their favorite thing in the park is the swings, so they decided to go there. Their names are Bobby, Sunny, Alexandra and Gloria.

    “I wish we could spend all summer together” Bobby said to the rest of the group.

“Yeah. Life is pretty dull without you guys” Sunny agreed.

“At least we can see each other at least once a week” Alexandra told them.

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly enough time” Gloria whined, trying to sound annoying.

They all laughed and tried annoy each other with the sounds of their voices. It didn’t really work.

“Hey, let’s have a contest. Whoever can reach the highest point of the swing first wins. How about it” asked Bobby.
Apr 12
bayleer05's picture

Where Did She Go?

Amaya was a little girl, 5 years old. She had everything a little girl would want. A big house, a large backyard and a big toy bin. She had a cat who’s name was Belle, after Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She loved that cat more than anything in the whole world.  Amaya was a happy person. Until she turned 7.

    “Amaya dear! Supper’s ready.” Nana yelled to Amaya who was riding her scooter with the kids across the street. Amaya turned and nodded her head towards her nana.

    “I have to go now. I will see you all later.” Amaya told her friends. They all waved goodbye and she scooted back to the house. She put her scooter back in its “designated” spot in the garage. Then, she took off her helmet and walked up the steps.

    “I’m here Nanai.” She sat down in her booster seat, fork in hand.
Apr 12

Columbine In The Storm

The unforgiving wind batted against the roof, and waves washed into the small wooden hut. The last piece of wood that held the house onto the ground came free, sending it into the storm. Thunder claps engulfed the home, sending furniture flying into the air.
Sapley hung tightly onto a table, fearing for her life. Storms like this came by often and normally all the animals in the were underground by the time it hit. But the loving mouse had stayed because on that fateful night the signs of a storm hadn’t been noticed by her. She had her paw’s full with two little bundles of joy that never slept. A brick could have hit her and she wouldn’t have been aware. How dearly she regretted it.
The strongest gust yet swept through the home, sending Sapley flying through the air. She floundered as waves roared over head, each one threatening to send her to the bottom forever. But she was determined, because she never broke her promises. Especially the wish of her dearest sister.
Apr 12

Winter in a Nutshell

The early-winter’s biting cold strikes me like a hammer. I shiver in the depths of our nest, poked and scratched by razor-sharp nettles. My thoughts drift to last night, as Casia and the kids had settled down for bed. Sasha had told us that a winter storm was coming. I told her don’t be foolish. Alan asked to sleep with me for warmth. I said don’t be weak. I sent them back to bed. I was hungry and wanted to get away from them, so I went to our food store, deep in the tree. Tired from the day's work, I had floated off into an uneasy sleep. Now I stare at my family, frozen where they slept. I only made it because of my greed and selfishness. My last words to them were ones of anger. My guilt claws at my insides. I make the leap. *Thud*
Apr 11

Narrative - First Lines

 Photo by gg.
Bill O'Connor, a friend of YWP and a wonderful novelist and columnist, used to write in a daily newspaper about everyday people with unique, funny perspectives and stories. Bills skills were these:
  • He connected with his subjects and so drew from them great detail and open expression.
  • He chose his details well and sparingly
  • He used dialogue well
And he had great first sentences.

"Writing is easy," he'd say. "You just write one sentence at a time, with the second sentence relating to the first, the third with the second, and so forth until you're done." He'd then smile and admit, "But getting that first sentence, that's the hard part."

Apr 11

Narrative - Character Development