The Surge_That Tree_goodbye_Midnight Meeting
Catalog Guide:
The Surge
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this emergency broadcast. Please standby.” A long droning beep startled Gemma, lounging on the couch in jean shorts and a T-shirt, trying to combat the summer heat. It was a Saturday afternoon in June, and she had been looking forward to watching her shows. Sighing, Gemma placed her cup of water on the coffee table and dabbed ineffectually at the wet spot on her shirt. She sat up and spared a glance towards the TV. Its screen was filled with static.“Anna?” she called out. The word echoed in the threadbare apartment that consisted ...
That Tree
It is not that the tree is beautiful. It is not that it bears delicious fruit either. And it is not unique, there are thousands of its kind. In all honesty, it is only a crabapple tree. The thing that is special about it is the grave that rests under its shade.Beyond gravel roads, past cow pastures, and cornfields, is a small graveyard. It consists of three tombstones and that tree. The common speculation is that this site became a graveyard in 1952, because that is the oldest date on the oldest stone. As I stand in the green summer scenery, looking at the crabapple, I cannot help but remember...
goodbye
I couldn't see anything. It was dark and a little chilly, but that's how it usually is in April in New York City. I'm walking down an alley, and I keep turning my head at every little noise. I finally get out of the alley, and it's still dark, but I don't hear the bustling of cars anymore or the yelling of cab drivers. I hear only silence, and there's something else....is that crickets? I keep walking until I feel the grass under my feet. I don't think I'm in New York anymore. I walk through the woods to find a clear meadow with the moon bright in the sky shining down, making the glass glow, a...
Midnight Meeting
In 7th Grade, when Mrs. Kurdy was on pregnancy leave and our class had a lazy sub who couldn’t care less about what we did, we watched different episodes of The Magic School Bus on the fuzzy box tv. One always caught my attention: Mrs. Frizzle and the gang were going through a tunnel, and, when trying to stay quiet, used the bus to get twww.onedoor.cchrough without making a sound. I wish I had a noise-canceling, flying school bus right about now. The hall I was carefully tip-toeing down was wide and empty, and the red lockers that lined the wall glinted in the moonlight. I stopped every now and then, strai...