Rise of the Storyteller 19: A Stolen ID

“Absolutely not, Joe,” Jazz said. She stepped in front of me in a cloud of girls, right after I stepped off the bus, and she looked up at me. I was for my feet. My eyes, my heart, my body seemed stuck on the ground. “This is how you lost Ruffle,” Jazz said. It was… Continue reading Rise of the Storyteller 19: A Stolen ID

Rise of the Storyteller 17: Bonnie

Climbing the cedar was the worst part of the morning. Cedar trees are not strong. Not this kind. They are whips of things, and bendy. The leaves, if you want to call them that, are more quills than leaves at all, small, sharp, and tough enough to slice like blades. I got gloves for Christmas,… Continue reading Rise of the Storyteller 17: Bonnie