INT. Montreal Airport - DAY
OLIVIA MOORE, 24, is anxiously sitting at Gate C. Her knee is bouncing and she is biting her nails. She looks at the giant clock behind her. It reads 11:05.
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4 min
INT. Montreal Airport - DAY
OLIVIA MOORE, 24, is anxiously sitting at Gate C. Her knee is bouncing and she is biting her nails. She looks at the giant clock behind her. It reads 11:05.
... [+]
“It’s snowing outside,” Lionel lunged for the windowsill, gripping the cold plastic with the eagerness of a child. There he stayed, equally enthralled and at ease, only glancing away to look ... [+]
The waves ripple back as I stare into the glimmer of the moon light reflecting onto the ocean. I realize that soon the sun will rise and I’d have to start getting things ready for the day. I take a ... [+]
With my art tools
I lay my head upon the short bright-green grass
looking up to the night sky
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The woman in front of me sits with her legs crossed, one meticulously manicured clear-coat-polished hand holding a notebook steady on her knee. It contains far too many pieces of information about ... [+]
Once upon a time, a young brunette sat outside the nearly empty train station in Brockingway. She pulled her purple shawl tighter around her shoulders. The snow that had began to come down stuck to ... [+]
I can hear bell towers and train whistles from my window.
Sometime during high school, my memories started to get murkier. It got harder to remember what I’d eaten last or what I had learned
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The rusted chains creaked softly, their music carried by a soft wind that rustled the leaves of nearby trees. The leather seat pressed uncomfortably against me as my gaze stayed fixed on the colorful ... [+]
You have a few seconds when you step outside in the winter before the cold soaks into your skin. As a kid I was challenged by my older cousins to abandon the steaming hot tub sanctuary at my aunt’s ... [+]
Red, orange, and blue.
Those were the colors
I saw the world in.
Red for the ange
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Mankind is a hideous, throbbing mass
Its ravenous sickly heart throbbing
Its veins probing
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I was the ruler of my own heart, a lover of everything life threw at me, and a carrier of grief, a messenger of death. I was once all these things in my past lives; I would like to think I still ... [+]
Hours have passed. I still haven’t reached the ground. The creaking of these ancient, rusted scaffolds echoes in the endless expanse, pressing in on me as I climb ever downward. The haunted light ... [+]