Pete Maida says
the stars spring to life in the sky. They are like a million tiny beacons beckoning me to their mystery. I am thankful for the slight breeze that rustles through my open shirt. The tiny creatures of the night sing their songs to me as I lay back in my hammock and drift off to sleep.
54Stories From First Lines Part One
Open the bedroom window. The July weather had been getting the best of me, and the stock of Mr. Freeze ice-pops in the big chest freezer had gotten dangerously lower in the last week. I jumped as an... keep reading →
Fiys says
trip over my own feet. Cursing under my breath, I pray that my parents didn't hear as I push myself back up. Gently sliding the key into the lock, it still sounds like an avalanche as I unlock the door and step out into the night. Cool air assails me as I quickly lock the door behind me. Hurrying across the yard I open the gate. It moves silently, I oiled the hinges in the morning, after all. Staying low, I rush to the bus stop. I certainly didn't go through this much trouble to miss my ride.
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