Avery Roth-Hawthorne
Bio
I'm Avery, and I like to write stories! I play the French horn, too.
Stories (1/0)
Maple Syrup
Sean sat under the shade of a thinning oak tree in front of his school. He liked to dream like he liked to nibble the erasers off the ends of his pencils: absentmindedly, but with great vigor. He imagined himself a brilliant and famous novelist, and in this particular fantasy, his mother was in the audience crying of joy, watching him receive the Pulitzer Prize for literature. Dreaming sure was better than worrying, at least. Sean worried constantly about how he was going to pay for college. He worried about how his mother worked for so little pay, and how they couldn't afford real maple syrup. He worried that he would probably never write anything worthy of publishing, and that his dreams were a waste of time.
By Avery Roth-Hawthorne3 years ago in Families