Charlotte Russell
Stories (2/0)
Out of the Garden
Camouflaged in the shadows of fescue and leaves, the serpent made its way out into the open. The sun soaked through its scales, warming it, energizing it. Its tongue flickered, tasting the humid sweet magnolia filling the summer air. Lifting its head, it scanned the surroundings; the pear blossoms frequently hummed with the nectar bees' buzzing, and the wrens flew high, plucking the blueberries from their seam. It admired the garden's busy innocence; that is what the garden is: innocence. So, the serpent was satisfied with the day and satisfied with the garden. It was safe in the garden, it decided.
By Charlotte Russell3 years ago in Fiction
The Little Black Book
It was ninety-five degrees outside, and a hundred and five inside the lower barracks. I fought long and hard this morning with Mom about going out to the fort on such a hot and humid day. Summers in coastal North Carolina are the southern cliche of hot, humid, and sticky. To put it short, it's a terrible day to be outside, much less deep inside Fort Macon's inner structure.
By Charlotte Russell3 years ago in Humans