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- décembre 21, 2017
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We teach her the rules. Hold your breath when you pass a graveyard; punch your friend’s shoulder when a VW bug drives by. Pick up a penny when it’s heads up, but not tails up or you’ll have bad luck. And we teach her about making wishes: on maple-tree helicopters, on cottonwood puffs, on dandelion heads, when you see the first star at...
- décembre 19, 2017
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This is how we play the game: pink means kissing; red means tongue. Green means up your shirt; blue means down his pants. Purple means in your mouth. Black means all the way. We play the game at recess, and the teachers don’t notice. We stand on the playground by the flagpole, arms ringed with colored bracelets from the drugstore, waiting. The...
- décembre 19, 2017
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She was kneeling on the floor, ice in her hair, lost in some kind of hypothermic torpor. With his last dregs of energy he constructed a fire and poured a mug of hot water down her throat. As he fell into sleep, he watched himself as from a distance, weeping and clutching his near-frozen wife. They had only flour and a few crackers...
- décembre 19, 2017
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In a wind-polished bend they came upon a dead heron, frozen by its ankles into the ice. It had tried to hack itself out, hammering with its beak first at the ice entombing its feet and then at its own thin and scaly legs. When it finally died, it died upright, wings folded back, beak parted in some final, desperate cry, legs like...
- décembre 19, 2017
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It was the hunter's first time outside Montana. He woke, stricken still with the hours-old vision of ascending through rose-lit cumulus, of houses and barns like specks deep in the snowed-in valleys, all the scrolling country below looking December—brown and black hills streaked with snow, flashes of iced-over lakes, the long braids of a river gleaming at the bottom of a canyon. Above...
- décembre 19, 2017
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Okay, here’s the sequel. It’s called Heart to Heart, link in the comments! Thank you all so much for reading Strings, you guys rock! Stay awesome! Re-Reading? Click here ...
- décembre 19, 2017
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Love is No Simple Thing I walk into the room everyone is getting ready in. It’s just Riley, her mom, and me getting dressed. Her mom is dressing up but she’s not a bridesmaid, Riley only picked me. I had figured she would have someone else but she didn’t. “You excited?” I ask, grinning. “Butterflies.” She says, smiling like it’s our own little...
- décembre 19, 2017
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