The great Mystique whooped and jumped from the open plane. Cold air stung his cheeks as he somersaulted and dipped through the air. He loved showing off for new students, making their first solo dives. The small group zipped towards him, and Mystique plunged through the circle they formed. Once clear, he deployed his parachute, but it failed to open. Free falling towards the earth, he yanked again. Nothing. The ground rushed closer, and a student spotting Mystique’s distress dove…
They laid on the old frayed quilt and stared at the blue-black sky blanketed with glittering stars. A muffled silence enveloped the night, the distant echo of waves crashing on the ocean a soothing melody. Along the fence, a possum, pouch bulging, paused briefly to stare at them. “Make a wish,” someone whispered. “Wishes aren’t real.” The night seemed to hold its breath, pregnant with anticipation and then, as if in response, a shooting star streaked across the sky, leaving…
Memories fade like ghosts in the night. Their sharp edges worn and frayed, their once vivid colors now muted tones of gray. I grope frantically to retrieve them, but they’re dusty smudges in empty books shelved within my mind. I stumble through the corridors of my imagination, searching through the labyrinth of ideas. They fall atop each other, tangled and twisted as they dance at the edge of my memory and whisper for me to breathe life into them and…
She hides behind pseudonyms, effortlessly sliding into each one. In editor mode, she draws strength from Scarlet Market, who slashes words without mercy, perfecting each new story. Until Zoe Konfety waltzes through, leaving a wake of vibrant glittering confetti to celebrate every minute victory. Curled in a chair, buried under a quilt and lost in her novel, she becomes Hannah Dewey, book enthusiast. In moments of chaos misplaced amongst a sea of people, she’s Jane Smith, the forgotten wallflower. On…