Brooke Craig
Bio
Stories (8/0)
Guardians
I wake early from a dream. I had been skating on a frozen pond with my mom. In the dream I was older, maybe around 10, but I haven’t seen my mom since I was six. Something about the dream seems familiar but I don’t remember if we actually ever went ice skating before my mom and dad disappeared.
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction
Permission
Despite my parents being violently taken from me, I have lived a sheltered life. I know that about myself, but still my naivete leads me to trust people I shouldn’t. All Adam had to do was look at me, smile and treat me with the compassion I had been craving for so long. And so I told him everything.
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction
What Contains Us
Rain is starting to fall as I open the old metal box. Being back in this barn again, sitting on the hay, surrounded by lingering scents from animals long gone is somehow comforting and I’m tempted to just lay back and daydream. But I’m not sure how well the roof will keep the water out so I know I don’t have long.
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction
Wishes
Mrs. Shelley had been waiting in my room when I snuck back into the Home. She had come in to return my mother’s locket, the one she had recently claimed had been in her own family for years. She watched me open the heart-shaped locket and laughed derisively as I tried to pry open the frame further. It was completely empty - no picture of me as a child and nothing hidden beneath. She asked me what I expected. Did I think there was some secret message or hidden key in there?
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction
The Stories We're Told
So where do I go from here? The last two days have left me rattled. For ten years, I’ve been steady in my belief that if I just do what’s expected, I’ll be okay. Maybe not happy, but at least okay. But Glen’s recent revelations about my past have shaken me.
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction
Anya
Another dreadfully boring hour in math class. I could solve these equations with my eyes closed but that doesn’t matter to anyone. I’m not one of the Chosen and have no chance to progress to advanced mathematics or sciences next school year. As the abandoned child of two traitors, I’m destined to be part of the Necessary Support work force, the ones who work in sanitation and other cleaning fields. It doesn't matter how well I do in school. It doesn't matter that I have obeyed the Council rules completely, without fail, for as long as I can remember. My parents killed members of the Chosen families and committed treason against Arcadia.
By Brooke Craig3 years ago in Fiction