Break From Reality. Daily.
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2019 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. Ding! Abby’s heart skipped a beat as the door opened. “Whoa, fancy meeting you here!” He stepped onto the 14th floor elevator in his pale blue oxford shirt and skinny…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2018 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. I froze in place with a determined resolve to finally slay the monster within, ending its reign of unforgiving terror. Vanquishing this monster was paramount to the restoration of my…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2017 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. Five: It wouldn’t be an ordinary week. Sitting at my window desk, I watched fellow students walk across the sidewalk, seemingly without a care in the world. In stark contrast…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2017 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. Leaning forward at the side of her bed, he reminded himself to obey the doctor’s directions and refrain from touching her. Cold, lifeless eyes met his gaze amid the sterile…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2017 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the Summer Writing Contest stories here. Was it all worth it? The perpetual question traveled through Samuel Montgomery’s mind as he shuffled into The Crow’s Nest with an unsteady gait. It was a question interrupting…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2017 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the Spring Writing Contest stories here. I was minding my own business, paying attention to the road. Well, to be honest, I wasn’t paying too close attention–my mind does love to wander. In fact, I…
This story is by Dawn Van Beck and was part of our 2016 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the Winter Writing Contest stories here. Pacing back and forth, I shot glances through the curtains of the grandiose picture window. My mind echoed warning words. Brooke Westfield, are you mad? What if the press…
by Dawn Van Beck I clasped my hands together, leaning my elbows on the wooden railing. Swirling ripples formed beneath me as a dragonfly skimmed across the water. My chest heaved deeply in time with the warm, subtle breeze rustling through the pine trees as my fingers found their way to my neck, delicately tracing over…
