Break From Reality. Daily.
This story is by Sarah Ivie and was part of our 2018 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. Icy prickles of pain stabbed her lungs. Andi’s lean legs pumped harder down the trail. Darkness had enveloped the forest, and with it came sounds of night – howls, rustling, and…
My closest friend disappeared in the strange, cold summer of 1818. Anna was as close to me as a sister, born on my family’s tobacco plantation to Mimmy, a woman owned by my father and charged with looking over the children in our household. Anna and I were born two months apart; my secrets were hers and hers were mine. Mother fretted over our close bond, but Daddy always said it was harmless. Daddy was wrong.
1818, the year without a summer is what they called it. Late frosts damaged our crops, and tension ran thick throughout the whole plantation. Mimmy said the weather was something mystical and ungodly. Daddy said it was caused by ash from a volcano half around the world. Both were right, I think.
