Stories (38/0)
The (Corn)Dog Days of Summer
Before I had boobs, and I guess even after I had boobs—at least up until the time in which my boobs and I were made to get a real job (and by real, I mean any job which did not include a nifty little business card with my name printed on the front, and below it, in a slightly smaller font, "Best-selling Author" [which in my case means all of them, haha!])—how my brain mathed out summer was:
By Maegan Heil2 years ago in Humans
Tallie's Mark
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There were once scuffed-up Tonka trucks and one-legged G.I. Joes bungee-corded to the beds, their arms bent around beer bottles and packs of Marlboro Lights as plastic wheels skid-scuttled to the bottom of the hill. There, where the tree had fallen but not yet rotted, where next to it, the grass did not grow, Tallie carved their initials.
By Maegan Heil2 years ago in Fiction