December 2012

4 articles in December 2012

Iismile as our GMC Jimmy pulls into the short, paved driveway of my parent’s house. This is a space that my parents made their own without me, over the past years. This is their home.

My home is in Waltham, MA. I love visiting their home for many reasons, but one in particular. I will explain, in my short story, why I hold my parent’s house so special to me. The sight is reassuring. The green grass is perfectly trimmed, as if they cut each blade one at a time, measuring it up to the one cut before (which, take it from me, I would not put past my mom).

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Tthe other day, my neighbor called me early in the morning to tell me they were everywhere. He said there were millions of them and they just about took over the neighborhood. Since I had yet to have my first cup of coffee, I asked him what the hell he was talking about.

He told me the Japanese Beetles had come out of nowhere, the night before, and were eating everything. I looked outside and knew that the war was about to begin. The first thing I could see was the damage. I couldn’t eat as much as they ate in one night!

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Ii sit here alone, with all the house lights blazing, and I am afraid. The lengthening shadows of evening will soon turn to the all-engulfing darkness of night.

The waving branches of trees, bent back and forth by the breeze, create a sinister picture beyond the windowpane. The Bramble, whose cruel grip I had destroyed, was like an enemy, banished but vengeful.

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Bbriana Ryan hummed as she spread chocolate icing on a row of cream-filled eclairs. She loved this time of day; the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the bakery was still and quiet, save for her humming and the gentle whir of the mixer as her sister Lizzie prepared muffin batter.

“What are you so happy about?” Lizzie grumbled in Briana’s direction. Briana was a cheerful morning person, Lizzie just the opposite.

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