finleigh

United States of America

Hey, I'm Finleigh, and I don't know what to put in my bio! Well, except that I'm working on a novel (none of you are allowed to read it until it's done), and I do not like writing non-fiction.

Published Work

The Hostage Game - Chapter One


Max slowed his pace to a walk as he rounded the corner, turning into his driveway. He stopped his watch and put his hands on his head to catch his breath. He watched it puff out in front of him, matching the snow on the ground. For some reason, he always liked running in the winter better than running in the summer. There was something about breathing in the frigid air that just calmed him down, like an odd sort of drug.
    He made his way inside and was greeted by his mother, a short, Japanese woman who was bustling around the kitchen. This wasn’t normal for her. Her place was usually in front of the giant monitors in her office, typing away on some secret project that she wouldn’t tell him about. His dad was the one who made dinner, but he was away on some sort of business trip. Max didn’t know why he was gone either....

Novel Writing Competition 2017

The Hostage Game

    Jasper woke to the gentle moving of what he thought was the boat, but then he opened his eyes and realized he was upside down. He tried to sit up, but he was slung potato-sack style over someone’s shoulder. He tried to wriggle out of their grasp, but they only hung on tighter. He knew it was futile to try and resist, so even though it infuriated him, even though it scared him that he was being taken somewhere unknown, he stopped, and slowed his breathing, trying to calm down. He needed to save his strength, for whatever was coming. That's one of the things he had learned in school - rest when you can, so that you have energy to fight, even when you least expect it. So Jasper tried to figure out where he was, and where he was being taken, trying to use the street signs and landmarks to spark a memory as to where they were, just...

Writing Small

First Day

I sat down in my first class, Chemistry. That's probably why I didn't remember much - just my very loud hiccup reverberating across the lab, atom puns made by a guy named Adam, and lastly, having to use actual matchsticks to light our candles. College is crazy, isn't it?

Talking to “You”

All-Nighter

    You're awake. Still. You look at your watch, but of course, since you are the only one awake, and no lights are on, you can't read it. You stare at the ceiling again, the fifth wall now very familiar from the long hours - or were they only minutes? - you had already spent looking up there.
    You shift in your sleeping bag, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position. But the ground is hard, and even with the bag and the soft blanket underneath you, you still can't find a way to fall asleep.
    You try counting sheep, a tried, but for you, false method, your mind instead filling with random thoughts. What's that noise? your brain asks. Is someone else awake? It's not likely, but possible. You scan the room again. No one. Wait - did someone move? No, they were just turning over in their sleep. You hear something, a whispered sentence, but...