He dragged the saucer-shaped sled up hill that he used to run up as a child. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked, and his breath huffed out in little white clouds. His muscles and lungs ached, but he was determined to reach the top.
- Top Story - January 2024
The GhostwriterTop Story - January 2024
Keep typing. The constant clicking and clacking of the keyboard echoed throughout the room. It was the only noise to reach her eardrums—the only noise that she had heard for days, for weeks…had it been months already? Years?
I raced through the forest, my feet bleeding inside my boots. My breath came in short, painful gasps. My heart beat loudly in my ears. Branches and thorns scratched at every exposed inch of my skin and caught on the thin fabric of my outfit. Yet I could not stop.
They put the alpha hooman’s glasses on me…again. Sigh. What does a dog have to do to get a little respect out of here? First, it was the cloth with the skulls and bones on my head. Then it was the…what did they call it?…shirt all over my body. Then the “Christmas bow”—at least that one is only once a year.