I am originally from Louisiana. I currently live in Oklahoma with my husband and son. I am a senior at the University of Oklahoma. I love grammar and proofreading, and I'd like to pursue that as well as professional writing.
When I was sixteen, I had a boyfriend, Ryan. Ryan was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He had green eyes and a muscular build. As typical teen romance, we held hands at school, snuck kisses when no one was looking, and drove around town on the weekends in his beater car.
To Trust a Monster
I cannot feel the cold or heat, but snow is my favorite thing. It makes the world quiet and calm. Many of our predators are sleeping. People take shelter, and animals rest. I step outside barefoot and walk through the trees. I love the light crunch of snow beneath my steps. I dash to a clearing and begin to sway and dance. I turn on one leg with my arms as momentum.
As I scrunch up tissue, I think how great my nasty skin gashes are turning out. I worked for weeks on the perfect zombie costume for the Halloween party at Michael’s house. I actually have a big crush on Michael. He’s tall, sweet, and so funny. He’s never looked at me with my braces and boring face. Maybe tonight he’ll notice my awesome costume. I had painted my skin pale green and bought white contact lenses. I shredded a pink nightgown and put leaves and blood in my messy hair. I looked great.
Ali grew up on her family’s Texas ranch, but it never felt like enough. She wanted to be a part of busy city life and see the world. She planned to move to San Antonio when she turned eighteen. She couldn’t wait to be surrounded by the beautiful energy she felt there. Her father, Jack, tried to make her understand this ranch was her legacy. Ali’s grandfather built their rustic six-bedroom home with the help of his hands, or the men he hired to help him with the animals on the ranch. The ranch was seven hundred acres of fenced in paradise that was home to hundreds of cows, sheep, and horses. To Ali, this so called “paradise” was hard work that began at four o’clock in the morning.
Pieces of a Bouquet
Abby Forrester scrubs last night’s spaghetti off her white plate. She has a dishwasher, but she doesn’t think it gets dishes clean enough. She glanced at her Emerald-cut wedding band on a towel of the edge of the sink. It’s four o’clock- Masen will be home anytime. Abby and Mason have been married six years, but it still feels like perfection. Abby moves on to the glasses while singing “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Creedence Clearwater Revival when a bouquet of flowers gently whips in front of her face.
The Walls of the Aquarium
I love the aquarium. Well, I used to. Now it hurts, and I feel weight pressing on my chest. Even driving by the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium is like poison in my stomach and a burn in my throat. When I was a child, my mother and I would go to the aquarium every other weekend.
I run to my ornate, wooden front door looking for the perfect-sized box to arrive in the mail. I am excited to order new puzzles. When I see it, I tear the package open pouring the thousand or so pieces into the lid. Sometimes if the topic is exciting, I will put together a fifteen hundred or two-thousand- piece puzzle. My favorite puzzle is a one-thousand-piece Rainbow Brite puzzle from the Hallmark store. As an 80’s girl, Rainbow Brite was important to me as a child, and I still love her and collect her toys and things from my childhood. This puzzle resurrects the memories of her bringing color and light into my childhood.
The Killer Box
To Whom It May Concern: I have enclosed the infamous “killer pig box.” I am a sergeant with the Denver County Police in Colorado, and I have followed this brown paper box through several cases in different states. We honestly don’t know what to make of it or if it actually has any connection to the deaths. Being the lead paranormal research group in the country, I am hoping you can put this rumor to rest of the killer box. Here is the known history about the box:
I wake up thirsty three or four times throughout the night. My mouth is so dry I can hardly move my tongue. It feels as if it is turning to stone. I cannot wait until I get up so I can taste it. The moment my eyes open and the morning light forces its way through the tiny openings of my striped curtains, I need it- the drink. My husband is already gone, so I let the dog outside and walk straight to the refrigerator. My sweet tea- It awakens me like nothing else. The cold, smooth sweetness flows through my hot, bitter mouth and gives me the happiness that should not come from a beverage. I imagine this is what a desert would feel like if an ocean flooded it. Sometimes I swear I saw steam rise from my face when I lowered my glass.
The Life of a Barn
I am old now, but I remember the day I was born. I was built close to a pretty farmhouse. A dozen men in overalls hammering and painting for days in the cold. I was new and fresh, a traditional red barn with white beams and a little window above the double doors. Inside hay was laid out for animals who would call me their home. To the right, along the wall were small stables for the larger tenants and one large, open stable to the left for birthing babies and roaming chickens. I never understood why the chickens were able to roam, and the horses and cows were trapped in a tiny cabinet. There was a loft up top that held extra food and hay. It took a ladder to reach it. I had an incredible view. In front, I saw a pretty, white fence, and behind it, green hills and quaint dirt roads tangled and looped through each other. The sun shone into the small top window, and the rays were spliced into dozens more that lit the home of these creatures.
My Fairy Tale
I’ve moved six times in my life. I actually enjoy moving. I get to find things that I thought were lost and reminisce about my younger years. As I’m packing my books, I always come across Walt Disney’s Cinderella. It’s the only bedtime story I ever remember asking my mother to read. I’m sure there were others, but this one is the only one I remember.
The Bee Locket
It had been seven months since the world dried up. Scientists said it would happen, but no one cared. The bees. The bees were gone, extinct, and we, the poor leftover species of the world, were left scavenging for food. Everyone said if bees were to disappear, the humans would lose apples, coffee, and a few other things. What we really lost were plants- all plants that provided food. I was one of the few who knew this would happen. I was a science teacher in the Oklahoma City Public School System, and I read much research on the topic. In the end, pesticides, drought, and global warming forced bees into extinction.