the awesomeness that was 12-year-old me: a nonfiction drabble

I think it’s safe to say that no one was cool as a seventh grader. No one was. Sorry. Most people look back on their twelve-year-old selves, put a hand to their face, and sigh bitterly. I don’t do that. In fact, I prefer to block that entire model of myself from my memory. Seventh-grade... Continue Reading →

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No More Excuses: A Necromantic Scene

Despite Cyril’s best attempts, the time of his departure finally came. It was as unceremonious as he feared it would be. Claudia wasn’t there; their mother wasn’t even there. Only his father, stern with arms crossed, making sure Cyril mounted his horse. A warden, a guard, making sure his only prisoner obeyed. Even as he... Continue Reading →

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