Our neighbor, Mrs. Wheeler, died. She was a gypsy. She lived in the other half of our duplex. The funeral was in her very own living room. So many people showed up, they were crowded off of her porch and onto ours. Nobody was even crying. Read more
A boy screamed from the back of the classroom, raised his hand and slapped the girl next to him. He stood up and backed away from her. She hissed at him. Her eyes widened and she lunged toward him and scratched at his face. He fell to the ground and covered his face with his hands. Read more
Great story. You did a good job with the dialogue here.February 1, 9:00 am by Anastacia Campbell
