Sunflower~

United States

Christian
She/Her
INTP-T
enneagram: 5w6
Writer
15
Ice cream aficionado
Joined April 2019

Message from Writer

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34)

Best TV show: Anne with an E or Murdoch mysteries (very different but I love them both)
Best Movie: Any period drama (Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Little Women, Jane Eyre) or Words on Bathroom Walls or Emperor's New Groove... I love literally every movie I have seen
Best Book: Hagenheim Series by Melanie Dickerson (sweet and wholesome romance... I love them!!)

Published Work

I'm looking for some title suggestions ;)

Annabella Conner sat with knees drawn up to her chest on that old porch, sagging and beat up from years gone by. The same porch she must've painted a hundred times over with that thick, creamy white stale-smelling paint; the same porch that she used to sit on with her brother during those hot summer afternoons, sipping bitter lemonade made from stolen lemons. She wanted those days back, so very badly; she wanted to spend hours in beautiful, perfect silence on that porch. She wanted a way to fix her life that had spiraled down and down, out of her control, leaving her abandoned and dilapidated, just like the porch. She wanted nothing more than to sit on that old porch for an eternity, wishing her problems away.
 
So she did.
 
Every morning, the golden rays from the sunrise peeked over the shallow, rolling hills of corn and soybean, dripping over her tired, delicate features like warm honey....

Train Tracks (footnotes)

“I pressed my hands to the track. The metal was rusted, cold and rough against my skin. The tracks started to vibrate, gently, almost unnoticeably, until the rumbling began to grow violent, shaking the rails, and the gray pebbles underneath. I slowly looked up, heat waves rising up from the ground, disrupting the image of something. Something dingy, dusted in coal. A train.  Heading straight for me. Closer and closer it came. I got up to run out of the way, but someone shoved me, face down, onto the tracks, their firm hand holding me down. I scrambled around, kicking and punching until the attacker let go to avoid the train. I rolled off the tracks, and down the gravel ridge that held them up. Pain seared my back, my arms were ripped and cut by the rocks. My skin stung. Then, I went unconscious-- Wait, no, I was still awake.” 
I rubbed my forehead, trying to remember the details...

No Escape

I couldn’t help shivering as I walked up the crudely cut stone steps. It was getting dark outside. The wind ripped through the narrow passageway, creating a low whistling sound that sent chills down my back. I wrapped my cloak tighter around my shoulders, thankful that I had brought the thickest one I had, lined in wool.
      The hall was dimly lit with small candles, each sitting in a plain, black sconce. They gave off just enough light to show the cracked walls. My stomach twisted tighter as I went higher and higher up the steps. I had no idea what would happen next or what was at the top of these stairs. Fear gripped me. But this was not a new feeling. The people that live in this realm with me are trapped, always tormented by the fear and uncertainty of this erratic and unstable world. It could collapse at any minute, falling under Her wicked...

My Music

I stare out the car window, trying to figure out my mood so that I can pick the best playlist to listen to, one that I can really feel the music. Am I feeling... angsty? I scroll through my playlist of Green Day, Weezer, Paramore, and The Raconteurs. No, those don't feel right. How about my sad, depressing playlist? That one can be good for rainy car rides... Vincent by Don Mclean, Yesterday by the Beatles, The Space Between by Dave Mathews... those don't feel right either. How about some fun girly music? Maybe I'll listen to Material Gir by Madonna, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper, Uptown Girl by Billy Joel, oh! maybe Dancing Queen by ABBA. Those are some of the best songs, but they still don't feel right. I found my mood! Now, I have realized, this isn't a mood, per se, but a feeling, a wish. I wish I was born in a different...

No Escape

I couldn’t help shivering as I walked up the crudely cut stone steps. It was getting dark outside. The wind ripped through the narrow passageway, creating a low whistling sound that sent chills down my back. I wrapped my cloak tighter around my shoulders, thankful that I had brought the thickest one I had, lined in wool.
      The hall was dimly lit with small candles, each sitting in a plain, black sconce. They gave off just enough light to show the cracked walls. As I walked higher and higher up the spiraling steps, my stomach twisted tighter. I had no idea what was going to happen next, or what was at the top of these stairs. Fear gripped me. But this was not a new feeling. The people that live in this realm with me are trapped, always tormented by the fear and uncertainty of this erratic and unstable world. It could collapse at any minute, falling...

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

His Last Race (Throwback to the first piece I wrote on here ;)

Beads of sweat dripped down the jockey's face, as he stared, focused on the horses kicking up dirt on the track before him. His heart raced as he felt his horse's muscles tense, as they pounded the soft, red dirt. This was his last chance to leave a legacy, his mark on the racing world. He counted the strides to the finish. The horse's speed was unfaltering, even as they neared the finish line. He saw his horse's leg reaching over the line, but time slowed. Everything was muddled, his vision a spinning blur. He was swallowed by darkness.

YOU in threes

Me in Threes *footnotes*

Three Favorites:
  • Movie: Treasure Planet or Emperor's New Groove
  • Ice cream flavor: This little place in downtown Nashville sold red velvet ice cream and it was the best I've ever had
  • Song: Steady As She Goes by The Raconteurs or Electric Love by Børns (But my favorite song changes every day sooo...)

Three Things About Me That Very Few People Know:
  • I took Irish dance lessons for a little while when I was younger (I hardly remember it now)
  • I have jumped off of a 45-foot cliff nicknamed rocky (it's at a summer camp called Muskoka Bible Center in Canada) into water, and I was literally crying before I jumped because I was so scared, but I was glad I did it XD

Three Flaws:
  • As you can see from the ones above, I am very indecisive and couldn't pick any single favorite thing lol
  • I am super judgmental, but I'm working on it
  • I am very non-emotional (but I don't...

Tears

My eyes burned, tears threatening to spill out. I gently wiped my eyes with my sleeve, but it did nothing to ease the stinging pain. I turned around, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop my eyes from watering. I took a deep breath and faced the cutting board. I hate chopping onions. 

Lonley

You know me. I am that little ornament that always sits at the bottom of the box. You never put me on the tree, ashamed of what people might think. I remember that year in first grade when you made me, you tried so hard, your tongue sticking out and frowning in concentration as you painted me in sparkly green paint. You took me everywhere that year, you showed me to all of your friends, proud of what you had made. But now, you forget I exist. Sure, I might be a little beat up from when you moved away from home, but you kept me. Why did you keep me if you were never going to put me on the tree? This year, your little sister has her own little tree in her room. You finally take me out of the box, and she looks in awe at how shimmery my paint is. That's what you used to love...

The Beginning of All

    "And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters," you quietly whisper these beautifully chosen and mysterious words. You wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, and lay back, sinking into your soft bed. Just as you bring this book to your chest, a thought crosses your mind, a wonderful thought. A comforting thought. The creator of the universe, the multi-colored galaxies, the stars that twinkle and shine throughout the night, he crafted them... all with one word, one phrase. "Let there be light."
    Your mind takes you back through decades and centuries, through time, back to when it began. Pitch black, nothing. Just... space. Suddenly, a voice booms from somewhere in the dark, a voice full of authority. But there is also something else there, an undertone in the voice. It is love, a gentleness, a tenderness. "Let there...

My Brain During Finals Week

"Remember, we have finals next week, so please review what we just went over!"
"Finals are at 8:00 sharp on Monday, so don't procrastinate!" My teachers say that every year. And every year, I don't study.

The week before finals:
Me: Sighs and clicks 'next episode' on Netflix

Anxiety and Stress: "Heyyy, we should study now... or not, whatever you feel like, it's up to you... *nervous laugh*  (on the verge of a nervous breakdown) 

Netflix: "Shut up, guys!! This is her favorite show, and as you know, I take down her favorite shows all the time without warning..."

Brain: *Ignores everybody and keeps watching the show*

Procrastination: *smiles and grabs a bag of popcorn and a blanket*  "We are gonna be here for a long time..."

Netflix: *high-fives procrastination*

Anxiety and Stress: *screaming*

Finals Week:
Me to past me: "Well, well, well. Here we are, it's finals week. And you didn't study."

Me during the test: *silently prays as...

Chapter Four of beth.r's Story Chain

    Charlotte tucked her silky brown hair into the back of the worn cap Ed had given her. "How do you do, madam?" She said in her deepest voice, which elicited a small smile from Alice. "Charlotte, I don't think this is a good idea..." concern washed over her petite face as she fidgeted with the lace trim on her sleeves. "Alice," Charlotte said with an adventurous gleam in her eyes, "tonight is the only chance I have to find out what happened to the Chinning boy and the secret organization, and... my brother." Charlotte swallowed as she whispered that last part, sadness flickering over her face like a candle struggling to burn. Alice laid a dainty hand on her shoulder, "It will be okay, Charlotte." 
    The carriage bounced along the rough cobblestone, as they made their way down the rainy streets of London to the Olde King's pub. "Oh, I do hate the rain," Alice said as she...

The First Christmas

Water, blankets, and feed, Amal repeated to himself. The inn was bursting with everyone from the Census. People from all over Israel flooded his home, the town of Bethlehem. His father, Benaiah, ran the inn. Everyone had to help, and Amal was told to take care of all of the animals. The stable was crowded, with everyone’s camels, donkeys, and horses, too many animals for the space they had. Amal walked over to the storage room, careful not to disturb anyone. He wove his way around the inn, over the people that were sleeping on the stairs, for a lack of somewhere to stay. 
    Amal heard a frantic knock on the door, and his father was busy tending to a sick traveler. Dinah, his little sister had fallen asleep, so Amal was left to answer the door. There was a bearded man, standing in front of a pregnant woman on a donkey, a star shining brighter than the moonlight,...

Writer's Block *Look at footnotes*

You breathe in the dense, rich smell of the rain as it lightly patters your umbrella. Rain drips off the dark ivy that has engulfed the old brick buildings. Shallow puddles reflect the soft, warm glow of the lights in the bookstores. You walk along the narrow streets, the bitter yet welcoming smell of coffee draws you into a small, homely cafe. You run your hands over the old books until you find one, the pages browned and the cover worn with years gone by. You curl up on an armchair, gently sipping the warm coffee as you look out at the dark sky, rain slowly sliding down the large window at the front of the shop. You close your eyes and let the warm, placid feeling of contentment spread throughout your body. This is the wonderful place where all writers reside, writer's block

Lonley



You know me. I am that little ornament that always sits at the bottom of the box. You never put me on the tree, ashamed of what people might think. I remember that year in first grade when you made me, you tried so hard, your tongue sticking out and frowning in concentration as you painted me in sparkly green paint. You took me everywhere that year, you showed me to all of your friends, proud of what you had made. But now, you forget I exist. Sure, I might be a little beat up from when you moved away from home, but you kept me. Why did you keep me if you were never going to put me on the tree? This year, your daughter has her own little tree in her room. You finally take me out of the box, and she looks in awe at how shimmery my paint is. That's what you used to love about...

Lonley

You know me. I am that little ornament that always sits at the bottom of the box. You never put me on the tree, ashamed of what people might think. I remember that year in first grade when you made me, you tried so hard, your tongue sticking out and frowning in concentration as you painted me in sparkly green paint. You took me everywhere that year, you showed me to all of your friends, proud of what you had made. But now, you forget I exist. Sure, I might be a little beat up from when you moved away from home, but you kept me. Why did you keep me if you were never going to put me on the tree? This year, your daughter has her own little tree in her room. You finally take me out of the box, and she looks in awe at how shimmery my paint is. That's what you used to love about...

Lonley

You know me. I am that little ornament that always sits at the bottom of the box. You never put me on the tree, ashamed of what people might think. I remember that year in first grade when you made me, you tried so hard, your tongue sticking out and frowning in concentration as you painted me in sparkly green paint. You took me everywhere that year, you showed me to all of your friends, proud of what you had made. But now, you forget I exist. Sure, I might be a little beat up from when you moved away from home, but you kept me. Why did you keep me if you were never going to put me on the tree? This year, your daughter has her own little tree in her room. You finally take me out of the box, and she looks in awe at how shimmery my paint is. That's what you used to love about...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Remembering Christmas

    The lights on the tree gave off a soft glow as I hung a shiny silver bulb on the tree, contrasting the dark green needles. Christmas music was playing quietly in the background. My family and I make jokes and told stories as we decorated, which left a permanent smile on my face and a warm feeling inside me for the rest of the night. We added more colorful ornaments to the tree, striped candy canes, and little figurines of snowmen and elves that have been passed down through generations of our family. My Mom set the star on top, and suddenly, the tree shimmered and sparkled, lighting up the whole room, filling our house with the spirit of Christmas. Outside, snowflakes fluttered down, each one adding to a thick blanket of dazzling white snow. I curled up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, smiling as I thought of all the memories my family has made over...

The First Christmas

Water, blankets, and feed, Amal repeated to himself. The inn was bursting with everyone from the Census. People from all over Israel flooded his home, the town of Bethlehem. His father, Benaiah, ran the inn. Everyone had to help, and Amal was told to take care of all of the animals. The stable was crowded, with everyone’s camels, donkeys, and horses, too many animals for the space they had. Amal walked over to the storage room, careful not to disturb anyone. He wove his way around the inn, over the people that were sleeping on the stairs, for a lack of somewhere to stay. 
    Amal heard a frantic knock on the door, and his father was busy tending to a sick traveler. Dinah, his little sister had fallen asleep, so Amal was left to answer the door. There was a bearded man, standing in front of a pregnant woman on a donkey, a star shining brighter than the moonlight,...

How to Get Over Writer's Block

Hello, fellow writers/readers! I think I have found the cure to Writer's Block! (Just kidding, that is an inexplicable phenomenon that no one will ever be able to solve...) Nevertheless, this list of books I have below is super helpful, and these books always inspire me to write something beautiful and new! Not to mention that they are the eunsung heroes of the book world, and need to be read more! Comment if you have suggestions or want to add anything!!! (I am in a constant state of needing book recommendations... lol)

The Girl Who Dared to Think Series by Bella Forrest: 
(I am not actually done with this series yet, as there are 7 books and I have just started reading them) But so far, this series is one of THE BESTfuture dystopian books, it is like Hunger Games and Divergent, but soooo much better! The characters are more complex, and the plot is...

Train Tracks (footnotes)

“I pressed my hands to the track. The metal was cold and rough, rusted, against my skin. The tracks started to vibrate, gently, almost unnoticeably, until the rumbling began to grow violent, shaking the rails, and the gray pebbles underneath. I slowly looked up, heat waves rising up from the ground, disrupting the image of something. Something dingy, dusted in coal. A train.  Heading straight for me. Closer and closer it came. I got up to run out of the way, but someone shoved me, face down, onto the tracks, their firm hand holding me down. I scrambled around, kicking and punching until the attacker let go to avoid the train. I rolled off the tracks, and down the gravel ridge that held them up. Pain seared my back, my arms were ripped and cut by the rocks. My skin stung. Then, I went unconscious-- Wait, no, I was still awake.” 
I rubbed my forehead, trying to remember the details...

Writer's Block

You breathe in the dense, rich smell of the rain as it lightly patters your umbrella. Rain drips off the dark ivy that has engulfed the old brick buildings. Shallow puddles reflect the soft, warm glow of the lights in the bookstores. You walk along the narrow streets, the bitter yet welcoming smell of coffee draws you into a small, homely cafe. You run your hands over the old books until you find one, the pages browned and the cover worn with years gone by. You curl up on an armchair, gently sipping the warm coffee as you look out at the dark sky, rain slowly sliding down the large window at the front of the shop. You close your eyes and let the warm, placid feeling of contentment spread throughout your body. This is the wonderful place where all writers reside, writer's block

No Escape

I couldn’t help shivering as I walked up the crudely cut stone steps. It was getting dark outside. The wind ripped through the narrow passageway, creating a low whistling sound that sent chills down my back. I wrapped my cloak tighter around my shoulders, thankful that I had brought the thickest one I had, lined in wool.
      The hall was dimly lit with small candles, each sitting in a plain, black sconce. They gave off just enough light to show the cracked walls. As I walked higher and higher up the spiraling steps, my stomach twisted tighter. I had no idea what was going to happen next, or what was at the top of these stairs. Fear gripped me. But this was not a new feeling. The people that live in this realm with me are trapped, always tormented by the fear and uncertainty of this erratic and unstable world. It could collapse at any minute, falling...

Speechwriting Competition 2020

The Only Home We've Got

     The Earth is something we all share. It is the only place known to humans where we can truly and naturally survive. That being said, most people, specifically, Generation Z and Millenials, like to play the "blame game". Greta Thunberg, a teen activist, says "But young people are starting to understand your betrayal, the eyes of future generations are all upon you. And if you choose to fail us, I say we will never forgive you!"(UN Climate Summit, New York, 23 September 2019). We (the younger generations) blame our parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents for leaving a massive mess for us to mop up. A mess that is so large it seems unfixable. That "mess" is pollution, one of the biggest issues we have at this time. In fact, Business Insider wrote an article titled "Past generations created a climate crisis for Millennials and Generation Z. Today marks 30 years of inaction." You see, older generations are blamed for something ...

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

No Escape

 A shrill, maniacal laugh pierced the silence. A face emerged from the dark, with skin so white that it looked transparent. Sheer terror paralyzed me. She stepped closer, tracing her frail finger along the cracked stone walls. My head was spinning, and I collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't breathe, let alone run away. The candle fell out of my hand, spilling hot wax over the marble floor. I held my head tight with my hands, trying to steady myself. My vision blurred as one thought surfaced, running over and over through my mind.
 
I am going to die.
 

The Beginning of All

    "And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters," you quietly whisper these beautifully chosen and mysterious words. You wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, and lay back, sinking into your soft bed. Just as you bring this book to your chest, a thought crosses your mind, a wonderful thought. A comforting thought. The creator of the universe, the multi-colored galaxies, the stars that twinkle and shine throughout the night, he crafted them... all with one word, one phrase. "Let there be light." Your mind takes you back through decades and centuries, through time, back to when it began. Pitch black, nothing. Just... space. Suddenly, a voice booms from somewhere in the dark, a voice full of authority. But there is also something else there, an undertone in the voice. It is love, a gentleness, a tenderness. "Let there...

Op-Ed Competition 2020

The Only Home We've Got

    I live in the small town of Prescott Valley, Arizona. While we don't have the thick, dense city smog surrounding our town, or the constant plume of exhaust from one car or another, anybody can recognize that the Earth is, indeed, changing. I have chosen to write about the environment as a whole, as there are many more pressing issues that are more helpful to be talked about, than any issues in my little town.
    The Earth is something we all share. It is the only place known to humans where we can truly and naturally survive. That being said, most people, specifically, Generation Z and Millenials, like to play the "blame game". Greta Thunberg, a teen activist, says "But young people are starting to understand your betrayal, the eyes of future generations are all upon you. And if you choose to fail us, I say we will never forgive you!"(UN Climate Summit, New York, 23 September 2019). ...

Environmental Journalism Competition 2020

The Only Home We've Got

    I live in the small town of Prescott Valley, Arizona. While we don't have the thick, dense city smog surrounding our town, or the constant plume of exhaust from one car or another, anybody can recognize that the Earth is, indeed, changing. I have chosen to write about the environment as a whole, as there are many more pressing issues that are more helpful to be talked about, than any issues in my little town.
    The Earth is something we all share. It is the only place known to humans where we can truly and naturally survive. That being said, most people, specifically, Generation Z and Millenials, like to play the "blame game". Greta Thunberg, a teen activist, says "But young people are starting to understand your betrayal, the eyes of future generations are all upon you. And if you choose to fail us, I say we will never forgive you!"(UN Climate Summit, New York, 23 September 2019). We blame our...

My December Competition 2019

The First Christmas

                                        
   Water, blankets, and feed, Amal repeated to himself. The inn was bursting with everyone from the Census. His father, Benaiah, ran the inn. Everyone had to help, and Amal was told to take care of all of the animals. The stable was crowded, with everyone’s camels, donkeys, and horses, too many animals for the space they had. Amal walked over to the storage room, careful not disturb anyone. He wove his way around the inn, over the people that were sleeping on the stairs, for a lack of somewhere to stay.
    Amal heard a frantic knock on the door, and his father was busy tending to a sick traveler. Dinah, his little sister had fallen asleep, so Amal was left to answer the door. There was a bearded man, standing in front of a pregnant woman on a donkey,...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Little Things

    The sun withdrew its warm rays, as it vanished behind the trees; leaving the Earth in a cloak of darkness, only to be illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead. I looked up amazed, at how many stars and planets there were, and how small we are compared to the vastness of them. Next to me, a fire with bright, amber flames danced within a circle of rough, uneven rocks. A dense smoke with a thick, oaky scent was carried along by the breeze. As it swept through the trees, it exuded a soft rushing sound that seemed to quiet the night. I pulled the top of my soft fleece- lined sleeping bag over me, as my eyes slowly closed, and I drifted to sleep.

    Moments like this connect us. We have all had moments like this, little memories we treasure. For you, it might be your dog running up to you, tongue hanging out, and coming up to you to...

Six-Word Story

It Is Finished!

These aren't my own words of course, but they came to mind, as they  fit this prompt. This is a bible verse, from John 19:30. I kind of paraphrased this, so it would be more clear and fit the prompt better. The original verse is: 

"So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!”And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit."

I condensed it to:

"Then Jesus said, "It is Finished"

Arctic Dreams

Imagine This

Imagine wandering down a crowded street, being mesmerized by the colorful lights and signs that framed the buildings; the music drifting out of them, muddling with the songs that came from all of the other bands in the busy bars and restaurants. Colorful, descriptive scenes like this one are what inspire settings for my stories. They come from the cities and towns I experience, places I want to visit, or moments I wish I had observed and enjoyed more.

The Forest

The sun withdrew its warm rays, as it vanished behind the trees; leaving the Earth in a cloak of darkness, only to be illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead. A small fire with bright, amber flames danced within a circle of rough, uneven rocks. The fire let out an ever-lasting cloud of wispy smoke, giving off a thick oaky scent, carried by the cool breeze that passed through the trees, exuding a soft rushing sound that seemed to quiet the night. 

Chapter 1- The Little Filly (a prequel to His Last Race)

Andy woke up to the sun, rising above the mountains, spreading light over her little town. She was anxious to see what would happen today. Andy brushed her wavy hair, threw on some clean clothes, and her favorite boots. She raced down the stairs, swinging off the last post into the kitchen. Her mom was making blueberry pancakes, something she did only on special occasions. Today was indeed a special occasion. Their family horse, Clover, was having a foal. She grabbed a plate of buttery pancakes, shoving her mouth full, so she could get to the barn. When she got there, her father was with the vet, sitting with Clover. She was so anxious, waiting for the foal to come. She paced around the barn, thinking of possible names. If he- Andy liked to think it would be a boy- was just like Clover, then he could be named Shamrock. Or maybe if he was a palomino, like his father,...

Summer

The fresh green grass glistened as everyone got out of the pool, dripping. They had no use for towels, the hot sun and warm breeze dried them in no time. They skipp over to the photo booth, grabbed a slice of the juicy red watermelon, smiling and laughing  at the accessories they had put on; large pink sunglasses, and flowery leis. They posed for a selfie, and raced back to the refreshing pool, filled with giant, colorful inflatables. This was definitely going to be the best summer ever.

Chapter 2- A Mischievous One

    Andy threw her hat down in frustration, sending up a poof of red dirt. Her little filly- Andy had yet to find a name- was so stubborn, not wanting to leave her mother. Clover stood still, lazily swishing her long tail. The filly seemed to glare mischievously at Andy behind the refuge of Clover's side. It was time for the filly to be weaned from her mother, as she was five months old now. Andy's frustration grew stronger, and heat rose to her cheeks. The five months used trying to connect with, teach and train this filly was wasted time. Andy hadn't even found a name for her, she'd just been calling her Filly. She gave up, it was time for a break anyway. Andy stomped her way up towards the house, but turned around to the rusty gate; she had almost forgotten to close it. She had gotten a scolding for leaving it open the other day, her filly...

Chapter 1- The Little Filly (a prequel to His Last Race)

Andy woke up to the sun, which was just rising above the mountains, spreading light over her little town. She was anxious to see what would happen today. Andy brushed her wavy hair, threw on some clean clothes, and her favorite boots. She raced down the stairs, swinging off the last post into the kitchen. Her mom was making blueberry pancakes, something she did only on special occasions. Today was indeed a special occasion. Their family horse, Clover, was having a foal. She grabbed a plate of buttery pancakes, shoving her mouth full, so she could get to the barn. When she got there, her father was with the vet, sitting with Clover. She was so anxious, waiting for the foal to come. She paced around the barn, thinking of possible names. If he- Andy liked to think it would be a boy- was just like Clover, then he could be named Shamrock. Or maybe if he was a palomino,...

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

His Last Race (Throwback to the first piece I wrote on here ;)

Beads of sweat dripped down the jockey's face, as he stared, focused on the horses kicking up dirt on the track before him. His heart raced as he felt his horse's muscles tense, as they pounded the soft, red dirt. This was his last chance to leave a legacy, his mark on the racing world. He counted the strides to the finish. The horse's speed was unfaltering, even as they neared the finish line. He saw his horse's leg reaching over the line, but time slowed. Everything was muddled, his vision a spinning blur. He was swallowed by darkness.