MFA Writing for Children and Young Adults
Amelia plunged from the sky into somewhere wet and cramped. Had she fists, she would have pounded and scratched her captor, but she’d become a spinning globe of slime with no defense: a nothing. Dull light slit the darkness, providing focus. She gained control of the spin then stared through one light source, an eye socket overlooking a ledge covered with green lichen, a reality so alien it held no more context than a womb.
The Space Between
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Heather peered through the unshrouded window, full of anticipation. The sky was darkening; she would have a ringside seat. Mother's room was on the fifth floor. Its window offered views directly west across a horizon of corn fields nearing tillage. She could almost smell the fertile soil crumbling and lush.
The end of the world
Through the window, the final battle, a classic struggle between might and right, myth and legend, flesh and light, past and presence turns my direction. It is time for me to choose and yet, I see both sides. I have absorbed conflicting arguments, attempted to sort fact from fiction. A system that relies on honesty is easily corrupted. Where lies the truth?