bookworm2259

        He didn’t leave his house much. The Old Man, I mean. In our more frivolous youth we had even devised a sort of watch system, which we treated with the seriousness of a war effort at the time. During our little project, he came out once in three days. Needless to say, we quickly grew bored and moved on. Moved on from the activity, that is. Not from trying to unravel the mystery of the Old Man. We put all of our little minds together and tried everything we could think of to pry the Old Man from the protective shell of his house. We would creep around at night, once even painting our faces black, peeking in the windows and oth

      The pounding of his heart blocked out all other sounds as it pumped furiously, as if that would somehow create the oxygen that his body so desperately needed. Vaguely he wondered if this was what it was like to die as his world was slowly dissembled. Color was giving way to black and sound was giving way to ringing. The last thing to leave was the terror.      The strangely eerie sounds of hospital equipment greeted Isaac when he awoke. Suddenly, all of his memories and senses rushed back at once, each clamoring for his attention like a room full of kindergartners. Luckily he seemed to be able to breathe, which he did with great relie

      Michael was sitting in math class when the first earthquake hit. Mr. Harrison, the stereotypical boring math teacher, had been giving a lecture in his droning, monotone voice.      The teacher stopped lecturing mid-sentence and looked at the ground, confused. Everyone else was doing the same thing. It was not a big quake, maybe a 1 on the Richter scale, but earthquakes were so abnormal in New York City that one tiny quake could be headline news. That is why Michael immediately got the sense something was horribly wrong.      However, after about a minute or so, the teacher said, “Alright, class, this is certainly unusual, but

A young woman named Kaitlyn loved making art, and practiced Creating all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical Novels, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic New York City, and a portrait of JK Rowling that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby President for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in Creating to create