Without Wings Chapter 3 -- A Maximum Ride Story

Image Credit: Benjamin S., New Hyde Park, NY The author's comments: Comment if you want me to continue. Max's POV We can’t fly carrying much weight so Fang and I had to carry Jeb up with us. Jeb is a pretty fit guy, but he was still heavy. He finally woke up about an hour into the hike so we forced him up the hill. It took us five hours to hike up the hill. I don’t know how regular people can do it. When we got to the top the rest of the flock was gone, looking for food. Jeb walked over to our cave and laid down. What a wimp. “I’m going to find them,” Fang told me. He took off towards the closest town, leaving me with Jeb. Great. “This is another test, isn’t it,” I spat at him. I was furious. He took away the one thing that connected me to the flock. I still wasn’t a normal person, but now I wasn’t part of the flock anymore. I couldn’t stay with them, and this hike proved it. “It wasn’t my idea,” he whispered. I glared at him. He looked away. What a coward. “You let them take my wings!” I was screaming at him. I ran toward him, my anger getting stronger with each step. I pick him up by his collar and slammed him against the cave wall. “Why did you let them?” Tears were streaming down my face. Suddenly the flock landed behind me, and Fang grabbed me. He pulled me away from Jeb, away from my anger. I collapsed in his arms and cried.


Maple is flirting with me. I glimpse her at windows as she ducks out of sight, catching only a swirl of scarlet skirts. She leaves little crimson-wrapped gifts outside my door. I love her. I wish I knew that she loved me… but Miss Sugar Maple never says a word. Maria speaks for the trees … Continue reading MARIA CARGILLE: Miss Maple →

LUKE SWANSON: The Football

Calamity. The world will never be the same. I wipe sweat from my forehead. I have to tell everyone, but how will they take it? Too late. The black eye of a camera glares at me, ready to listen. I clear my throat and square my shoulders. “My fellow Americans…” Luke Swanson is a fledgling … Continue reading LUKE SWANSON: The Football →

JUDI MacKENZIE: Maturity

Words flowed: eloquent, impressive. Everything perfect, until a fly disappeared into her interviewer’s man bun. Wouldn’t be easy, but she’d battled giggles before, and won. Two more entered the bun party. She bit her lip. Oblivious, he droned on. “We’re all abuzz…” he said. She heard no further. Game over. Judi MacKenzie is a writer … Continue reading JUDI MacKENZIE: Maturity →

KENT OSWALD: Eternity Bytes

Someone I care for passed away But that isn’t true on social media today Their birthday notice continues to lives on Compelling “friends” to comment upon So I learn the flesh may rot but we never really die When we can still be liked in the digital by and by. Kent Oswald writes, edits, walks … Continue reading KENT OSWALD: Eternity Bytes →

PETER LI-PING: Art Never Sleeps

Starlight city nestling inland Where Magic is humming And Mystery glows Interwoven between threaded crossed lines At each end is a watcher A tall figurine Stop centrally now, take care with your step Yes, just there, on that same pinprick where Stand the Artists who painted The wild silken road. Peter Li-ping lives far from … Continue reading PETER LI-PING: Art Never Sleeps →