Ben Syverson

Sean King

Sam Becker

Fra Valsecchi

Rietje Becker

Zoe Becker

Tia Hanke-Hills

Celia Kaufer

I never did trust Dane, and now I knew why. He clapped his hands, and a dozen human impersonators lurched toward me in perfect unison.

With a dozen doppelgängers marching towards me, my only option was a hasty retreat. I threw a smoke bomb to the floor, then zigzagged away. In the confusion, I made it out of the factory, and halfway to my flying machine.

I ran through the tall grass until my legs gave out. I could scarcely make out the tail lights of my getaway ship far in the distance. I reached into my pocket one last time to confirm I still had the artifact. I didn't have a second to lose.

"STOP THE BOAT!" I screamed, but the lights faded away. As I started losing hope I heard something. Peeking out of the tall grass I saw an old couple having a glass of wine in a pontoon near the shore. Maybe there was still hope to bring the artifact to its rightful owner.

“HELP ME! Follow that boat!” I screamed. The old couple looked quite taken aback, but moored their boat next to me and invite me aboard. “Would you like some wine, honey?” Never one to refuse wine, I took it. It was delicious. The Pontoon slowly made its way toward my target.

Maybe it was the heat, maybe the wine, but I suddenly grew delirious. Forgetting my mission altogether, I felt myself being drawn toward the floor of the boat, my vision growing cloudy and my hearing muffled. As I hit the floor, I noticed the old couple smiling at me.

I opened my eyes, and tried immediately to get my thoughts together. My limbs tingled as though they’d been asleep for ages. I was sprawled out on a bed, in a room I didn’t recognize. Directly above me, there was a weird water stain on the ceiling. It looked like a horse.

My brain immediately put the pieces together. Water stain, uncomfortable bed, tingly limbs. After the journey of a lifetime, I had finally made it to the Kentucky Derby.

Off to the Races

Patrick Carr

Corey Janssen

It was the third Halloween since the incident. Marge looked in the mirror and considered her costume. Her whole year had been building up this day, the day of the Halloween Ball, and her chance to redeem herself once and for all.

She took a breath and closed her eyes. She remembered exactly where she was three years ago, surrounded by friends—well, friends then—dancing in zombie suits, dangling nooses, and Hillary Clinton masks. Then the music stopped, and she blurted the phrase that changed everything.

“I HAVE ELEVEN TOES.” The words reverberated through the room, so much so that she could almost see them bounce off the walls as one sentence at first, until they hit the window and split apart. ELEVEN finally landed at her feet. “This feels right,” she thought.

She picked up each letter, one by one. The L and N she put in her pocket. The Es she stacked and tucked under her arm. With her free hand, she scooped up the V and proudly exclaimed to the room, “My feet are beautiful. You are the wrong to judge.”

Tia Hanke-Hills
@tiahankehills

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Tia Hanke-Hills@tiahankehills

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Tia's Stories

Tia Hanke-Hills
@tiahankehills

Awards
Earned

Member
Since