This Thing Called Love

Image Credit: Terilyn M., , It was the summer of 1776, in the town of Boston, Massachusetts.“Darling,” yelled Lily up the stairs,” You have to go, the horses have arrived!”“Coming Darling!”yelled James as he ran down the stairs.” I am sorry I could not stay with you,”said James. He gave Lily a short passionate kiss,and this kissed his son Harry on the head. “Don't be any trouble to mummy, Harry.” he said somewhat sternly to his 8 month old son. James walked over to table to grab the rifle. He handed it, fully loaded, to his wife Lily. She nodded knowing the reason for the rifle. She took a sleeping Harry’s arm and used it wave goodbye to her husband. He gave a reassuring smile and hopped on his horse. James POV I jumped on my horse and before I knew it, my house faded from my view. As my horse was galloping across the prairie, I saw British troops on horseback going for my house. “ I am not going to let you pass. That place you're heading towards is my home. It holds my 21 year old wife, and my 8 month old son. Spare them and I will spare you. Fail to spare them and I will hunt you down and cut each and everyone of your-” I said, getting cut off. “ It’s gonna be pretty hard to cut us if you’re dead.” said one of the troop members. My life flashed before my eyes as a gun fired at my head. I passed out from the pain, and fell over into a rapid river. Lily’s POV I feel like crying, but I must be strong for Harry. What was that? I just heard three knocks on the door. Maybe it was James? He probably forgot something. But just to make sure I look out the window. Weird thing is, nobody is at the door. I hear someone say in a angry tone”OPEN UP!” With that, I run and hide Harry in my bedroom. At this point tears are flowing freely. I kiss Harry on the head and tell him” Be strong, mummy loves you.” Then I hear the door get kicked down. “WHERE ARE YOU!!!” The soldier screams. I sneak out of the bedroom. I send an owl to Vernon, my brother in-law, a letter saying “Tell Petunia I love her. Someone is here with a gun.  Please take Harry. Don't tell him how I really died.” And with that I signed my name and attached the letter to buckbeak, and said Vernon. Buckbeak flew off, and then I hear them. I hear two pairs of footsteps coming for me. I whipped my head around and a gun was pointed to my stomach. Before I knew it they pulled the trigger. As they pulled the trigger, they stabbed me with the bayonet. That's when black took over me. Vernon POV “HOOT, HOOT”said buckbeak.”Bloody bird! It’s only 6 in the morning. What br-” Is that a letter? I untie it from the foot. It is a letter from my wife’s sister Lily. “Tell Petunia I love her. Someone is here with a gun. Please take Harry. Don't tell him how I really died. Lily” Is she really dead? “PETUNIA, YOUR SISTER IS DEAD!”I screamed. They never got along when they were kids. However, Petunia still loves Lily. She is crying in the kitchen. I have a few tears coming from my eyes due to my wife crying. We finally get ourselves together and we get onto the horse and carriage. The next day we get there. We see blood but no body. I think the murderers took the body with them. My thoughts are broken by the cries of my nephew. We pick him up and take him home. The poor child will grow up not knowing his parents.   This story wouldn't be possible without my history teacher Mr. Oberdick, and my three friends. Their names are Emma Sweeney, Briannalynn Rice, and Truth Mclain.



DMITRI CHRISTOPHER: Shadows

Where is he? Take a happy memory, old, rarely visited. Imagine it as a painting, oil on canvas. See the subjects, how they laugh, smile, dance. One does not. Follow that gaze to the dark corners. Someone casts a long shadow, out of view. There he is. The Shadow Man.

AJ JOSEPH: In Hindsight

“You chose,” he’d remind me later. “You could’ve gone home.” “You needed help! Neither of you knew how to do it right!” I retorted. “Well, is it almost done?” He’d asked thrice before. Feet aching, sweat pouring down my face, I replied “Yes, the turkey will be finished by dinnertime.” AJ Joseph occasionally writes at Words … Continue reading AJ JOSEPH: In Hindsight →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2) →

ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching

“Pa! They’re here.” “Who?” “The crows.” “Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.” “They’re watching.” “What?” “The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.” “Ma!” “Then they’ll do their dirty work.” “Yer crazy, cut it out!” “Pa! One landed!” “Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.” Robin writes in the odd … Continue reading ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5)

At the cemetery, I look at my father in his dark suit and dark shoes and I see a drop of water on his cheek and I think it might be a tear. But then I think no, it’s only the rain. And then it rains and rains and rains. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5) →