There are dozens of problems you may encounter when stealing your own coffin, but for Vlad, it was his lack of physical hands.
You read that right. That’s the opening sentence to my flash fiction short story, “Grave Robbers,” which is published on Havok today. It follows Vlad, a young ghost (only several centuries old), as he plans the perfect heist to steal his own coffin from an ancient Scottish castle.
As a professional writing major at my college, seniors have to compile their best work from over the last four years into a bound, designed book. It’s been a project I’ve been waiting for with bated breath ever since I learned about it. Older students told me as a sophomore to save every paper I ever wrote, keep teachers’ notes, and to be thinking about a theme that can tie everything together. Back then, I couldn’t imagine picking out a theme that could encompass all my writing: after all, I liked to write about different things, and some of my stories were vastly different from others. But as my senior year came upon me, I found the perfect theme. My stories revolve around either hope or memory. Many of them look to the future with either a warning to society about our faults, or an expected adventure just out of reach. And when not writing a social commentary on America’s morals, I’m pulling nostalgia from the cracks of my mind. I thought “memory” and “hope” were much too generic for my theme, but finally it hit me: I also write about time. Time looking forward to the future or back … Read More
The world has forgotten its history and now resides in a rustic shadow of its former glory. But one little girl determines to share her memories no matter what.
A rookie guardian angel is tasked to protect a rebellious teenaged girl and draw her to faith. When his tactics prove ineffective, however, he must consider more drastic options.
Trustin, a homeless man in Washington DC, thinks that kindness is all but extinct until a little girl from Fruits of the Spirit Daycare comes to share her lunch.
In this short story, first-grade Ada decides to steal the Rubix cube from Mr. Joshua’s desk. When things take a turn for the worse, Ada must realize some things can’t be fixed on your own.
I’ve mentioned that I’ve been writing a book series for basically my entire teenaged life, but I rarely share any of my writing — for multiple different reasons. Recently, though, I’ve found part of a chapter that I enjoy submitting to writing contests on occasion, and I thought I might share here. The excerpt, although not heavily weighted with the story, I imagine to be a piece that represents the spirit and feel of the book fairly well. Character names and events are mine and cannot be used without permission.
This was a personal narrative for my college creative writing course. I wanted to describe the several nights my cousins, brothers, and I played an intense game of “Underground Church” in my grandma’s yard in Harvey, North Dakota. Lights in the dark void hovered five feet off the ground, rotating in long, haphazard arcs like small, drunken lighthouses that sliced the night as a sharp blade. One of the lights haunted an old shed, the holder of the flashlight tromping around and pivoting his weight, as if he had nothing better to do than to stand alone in the sea of darkness. Our soft thuds of sneakered feet were too quiet to alert our hunters. We weaved in and out of trees, our powers of invisibility only compromised when we broke into an occasional pool of house lights. Dark paths, hidden holes, and dangerous strung clotheslines were determined to slow us down, yet we pushed on in a subdued rush. As my cousins and I tore blindly through the darkness, we knew we were in huge trouble—bigger than we ever had been before. What awaited if the searchlights caught us in its glaring eye was only up to the imagination: … Read More
I wrote this piece for my college creative writing course. I took inspiration from an old character of mine named Bryan Sign and tweaked him for this particular story. I wanted to write a story that reflected my impossible trials of cooking in the kitchen. A fun fact that might be of interest: a good portion of the cooking failures in this story were inspired by my real-life events.
This is my Biblical narrative for my high school English class. We had to write a short story on a Bible story. I’ve been Bible-crushing on Ehud for awhile, and he’s a short story, so I decided to go with it. Note: I originally had Ehud alone, but then realized there were others with him up to a certain point, so part of the plot is slightly stretched, but it’ll work for English class. UPDATE: I received an A on this project. The man shifted his weight impatiently as he stood at the corner of the bustling street. Even in the scorching sunlight, he kept his hood up, drawn so the hem cast a slight shadow over watchful eyes. His back molars ground together as he beheld the massive palace, carved from marble and furnished in gold accents. As if the great Eglon thought he was God Himself. The man glanced at the sun’s position. It was just an hour after the noon meal, the time he was scheduled to meet with the king himself. He readjusted the ornate package under his arm and began limping toward the palace. Four companions followed in his wake, carrying similar packages. Gazes from under … Read More