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In Which Middle School is HellI can still remember with perfect clarity the day in eighth grade when a boy walked up to me at my locker and said, “Hey cutie.” I was sweaty, having just come from gym class, and I was only at my locker to buy some time before I had to go to math class where the teacher hated me and the numbers didn’t make any sense. But there was a boy standing next to me and he called me cute and I had no idea what to say. But I didn’t have to because the girl he was with just laughed, a cut off cackle into the oversized purse she was fishing through. I turned back to my locker, not saying a word because what could I really say anywIn Which Middle School is Hell by ~Melpyra
The Stick PeopleIn a town called Rushing Water, there lived a woodcarver with no face.The Stick People by ~Dead-Raccoons
When we were small, my brothers and I, Daddy would sometimes take us to visit her. We would sit there at her kitchen table, amazed, as this woman with no eyes – and indeed no nose or mouth – would pour out our tea without spilling a drop.
I was frightened of her because she looked so strange, so grotesque. All the other days of my life, I encountered people with faces – square faces, oval faces, faces round and smiling like the moon with slanted eyes or big dark ones or little beady bird eyes. Snub noses, Romans or long, thin, birdlike ones like mine. Yet here was a wom
Sta.sh
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