Principal Swank leaned back, his rolling chair squeaking beneath him, and placed his fingers behind his head as if he intended to take a nap.…
This short story was a contest entry a writing prompt contest. I love fiction contests, as they are so motivating, with a prompt and a…
The path along the riverbank was muddy from a morning rainstorm. Jillian trudged the half-mile walk to Grandfather’s house, past the farmlands, the old rancher’s…