It took Connor a minute to realize the car wasn't moving. "Where do you live?" Mr. Meyer's voice startled him. Connor turned his head and met his teacher face-to-face. He stared at his blue eyes for a second, before quickly averting his gaze down to his own shoes. "Wisteria Lane," Connor managed to mutter. He looked at the floor of Mr. Meyer's car, and w...
The bare bones version. I apologize to no one. I am the decider. "This is harassment," I said. He grinned. "Please report me, then." "It's not funny; it's the kind of behavior that can get you in real trouble." He leaned in closely, too close, and mock whispered, "Yes, I'm very dangerous." My fingers curled around my notebooks. "Mr. Griffith, I expect...
Todd watched Maddox move sluggishly around the room cramming things haphazardly into a bag. "So we are leaving Saturday morning?" Todd asked, wondering why his friend was packing almost a full week before they left. Maddox didn't answer he just moved to his closet. He had so much to do during the week that packing frantically the Sunday before was his only...
K. Nitsua. Revised version copyright 2006 by the author. The persistent beeping of an alarm threads its way into my consciousness. Slowly, reluctantly, I open my eyes to an unfamiliar light and unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? In a moment my brain orients itself. The small travel clock on the dresser, which I only use here, reads six-thirty a.m. Despit...
It was my second semester that I met Joshua, or rather, Professor Wood. Yes, his name was Professor Wood. Professor Wood was a great teacher, teaching an interesting American Studies class at night. I remember going to his classes Thursday nights at 7pm, getting out at 9:30pm and being ready to burst out of his classroom and go drink and party with my friend...
This is a short story, extremely short compared with previous submissions I've made. Yet, it is a truthful admission of actual events in the life of the story teller. I am the writer of the story, not the teller of it. * Being a boy in the 1950s and a teen in the 1960s opened my eyes to things I never imagined. As a boy, I played outside and mothers in th...
There is something so oddly empowering about the way I spend my days. My name is Abel Whitaker. I'm a young black man living in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. Let me tell you about my life. I was born in 1986, to Boston police officer George Whitaker and car saleswoman Jennifer Kingman Whitaker. They raised me to have ambition and a positive attitude. I'...
"I'm so nervous, my students are gonna hate me, I just know it! They're not gonna take me seriously!" I exclaim frantically as I slip on my shoes to head out the door. "I highly doubt that, 'Hot Teacher!" My roommate Jess says as she pushes me the rest of the way out. "I would literally kill to have a teacher even half as hot as you, gay or not. I doubt yo...
It was a warm late September day. It wasn’t yet time for Will and I to go back to school but my brother had already started his senior year at the local high school. That afternoon was a boring one. We liked to lie by the pool but it wasn’t quite warm enough for that. Of course there was nothing on TV worth watching. It was about time for school to let...
MR Brown was tidying up the University gym dressing room when he found the phone, it wasn't unusual for one of his pupils to drop their phone, he pressed the button, there was no lock on it. "Careless" Mr. Brown muttered to himself. He went through the contact list briefly but it did not identify the owner, he clicked on the facebook app but there was no s...