I Am Hope_Just James Freed_When the Rooster Crowed He Smirked_A Fly On the Wall
Catalog Guide:
I Am Hope
I Am Hope By Karen Lankford-CarnesFrom the day I met her, I knew she was different. Not in a bad way, but just...different. She carried herself with a certain sort of grace. She fairly glided rather than walked. Tori was envious. Tori was always envious. She never dared believe that she would amount to much. Her step-father made sure she knew she was useless, hopeless and in the way. Tori never knew her real, as in biological, father. He was a painter, and he fell from a ladder while working. By the time anyone found him, he'd bled out. How gruesome. Tori had nightmares about it. He was handso...
Just James Freed
Just James Freed I knew James Freed from our Kindergarten days as the kid who loved clowning around with the boys in our class. He was a happy sort of kid who always had a goofy smile on his brown face, and I thought he waswww.onedoor.cc too childish. Can you imagine a five-year old saying something like that about another five-year old?I used to watch him playing catch outside and wondered how vibrant his life was with how he always seemed to be sporting that same grin every time I saw him. Lily, who was my best friend in second grade, absolutely fell head over heels for this kid, along with the rest of th...
When the Rooster Crowed He Smirked
The flat surface of the mirror held a man growing old and weeping. The mirror was cold when the man fell to his knees and touched the mirror.‘I don’t know him,’ said the man on his knees. ‘I don’t know him,’ said the mirror. The man shot his eye up at the mirror, horrified, holding the mirror with both hands. He was shaking his head at what he was looking. He stood up again, brushed his trousers with his hands, wiped the tears with his sleeve, but his eyes were red. The mirror was unmoved. The man cleared his throat and looked at the mirror. He really didn’t seem to like the mirror. He had a...
A Fly On the Wall
Hope slipped into her desk, a minute after the bell, glancing down at a small slip of ripped notebook paper that had been artfully placed on her desk, directly in her line of vision. She did not look pleased, but some unseen compulsion seemed to force her to unfold it and read its contents. Judging by her expression it wasn’t a note from a secret admirer. In fact, I knew exactly who had written it and what it contained. This was already the second day that I’ve been chilling in my corner and I already knew the dynamics of this middle school classroom like the back of my wing. The entire class...