Lizibeth: A Short Story

The soul-stirring fog had suddenly massacred the beauty of the ?land? And as she cried the conniving mist did a disappearing act and rain started to fall which turned into a storm. the lake glistened with an invitation and when she knew it was too late she started to run across the bridge only to upset it and leave her hanging on a nail her mind shook because she knew she wouldn't end because she wasn't falling into the lake but into an endless dream of a terrible regret because the lake was not deep but when she went to the land should she stay tere hidden or run back to the world where she thought everyone saw her as,invisible. And when she suddenly fell she realised her gift to the world was not her voice but of something else she

On this particular day, she was walking through the woods, singing and skipping merrily along. All of a sudden, there was a sound behind her. As she turned around to

It was a beautiful bright day in the town of Integrum Infernum five miles north of a mysterious cavern called Norak. Everyone lived happily in the town except for an orphan named Ellis. No one understood why she was so unhappy, but then again she was the only orphan in the town so no one could understand how she felt. As Ellis grew up she was a very unusual girl some said she was Hell’s Angel because of how attached to the darkness she was. At age 10 everyone assumed the mysteriousness lurking in her was depression and made her try therapy. At first everyone was scared she seemed even more vicious, but then she changed. Ellis started talking and became very kind. She continued therapy for several more weeks before it happened. Three weeks after therapy started disaster struck two little boys disappeared and everyone fell into a deep dark disastrous depression. All except Ellis of course.

I never thought I would return home until I was an old lady, or, at least, someday with my entire family. Instead, there I was, underneath the celestial sky, on the side of the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains, in the town that I once lived in: La Esperanza. That night, a cool breath of air blew throughout the corners and curves of the cobblestone streets flapping the curtains of cement houses around like the skirt of a dancing woman. As I walk through the streets, the night cannot put the living to rest. Small children with dirt-streaked faces and hole-ridden clothes ran around the streets playing

I moved into a quiet neighborhood in Orlando, Florida on January 24, 2008. I was a college student working part time at a local Target. I kept to myself and tried to make a little money and have good grades. I didn’t really know anyone, and no one really knew me unless I either worked or went to school with them. One day in early March, I was working on my yard and a little girl tossed her ball into my yard by accident. She ran over and grabbed it. As she ran off, I noticed how happy she was to just be playing with a ball, something that anyone else would take for granted. She looked happy and so excited.

From New York Times Bestselling author Lori Handeland, comes a short story in her urban fantasy world, The Phoenix Chronicles.

What would life be like if you packed your bags and just left the comfort of your home and went somewhere to challenge who you are as an individual. Would life be better if you lived in a different country or would it make you more grateful of the blessings you have that others do not. What if someone walked up to you and said its time to test who you are? Would you accept the challenge or would you walk away.

Isabella and Carter continue taking shots and drinking other beverages. Time passes and they are both intoxicated.

A little girl who knew how to read before she knew how to feed herself lived at 14 Ch-her-bourg Drive, in a small town in a small state in a big country, sang in trees, swung sticks at bad guys, and believed that there were faeries living in her hair. She talked to stuffed animals, brushed their fur until it was as flyaway full as her own, about magic and being able to be the hero of her own story and blasting all the monsters away from the world.

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

This is the story of Brynn Blackwell, well at least the story of the end of her story.

“I hate to break the news to you, but your sister died from smallpox a few months ago.” “What about her two daughters Elizabeth and Isabella what happened to them.” “I heard that after their mother passed away that they disappeared, but if I had to guess I'd say they're still somewhere on this island.” “Because their mother didn't have a will the city hired me to try to sell this house, but no one really wants to live in a house where someone has died.” Edward thanked the elderly man, and then he searched the city for hours until he remembered a cave that his nieces had shown him several years ago. When Edward arrived at the cave his nieces were nowhere in sight, but he could easily tell that someone was living there. About an hour later Edward

Little 4-year-old Mia, was having a tea party on her front lawn on a warm July night. Her black pigtails wagged as she was playing with her stuffed animals on her soft baby pink blanket. Her dark brown amber eyes stared at the beautiful sunset glowing over the lake that her house sits on, it was peaceful and quiet. You could only here the birds chirping. It was like a scene from a movie.

She went to bed early, in the morning she had school. She got ready but she wore boy cloths. As she got in the bus people laughed at her and said mean things. As she got off people stared, she got uncomfortable. She ran to the girls bathroom and stared cry. She felt

I stopped at my parents and pick up my thirteen year old daughter, Melissa. We had been living there for almost a week. It had felt strange to wake up in my childhood bedroom after 19 years of living elsewhere. Melissa is my youngest child and the only one of my three children still living at home, and we were both almost giddy with excitement. As we drove in, we could see the house set on our well-manicured two and ½ acres lot. The old growth trees lined the driveway