The infected got through. I don't know what to do. The infected got through and I grabbed Asher and ran, leaving our packs, all our stuff. Jonathon followed us. We crawled up the folded bleachers and through a window that leads to the announcers box. We're crouched low.

The company dad went to get supplies with came back today. Dad wasn't with them. I didn't want to know why, but I had to know why. Asher asked. One of the guys took us aside and told us the infected got him. He was attacked inside a grocery store. He went into a back room and met 6 infected. There was nothing they could do, the man said. Nothing. I get it. I still think about what happened to mom.

Food poisoning, EVERYONE got it, and it was all my fault! I was helping out in the kitchens again toady, of course. A few guys brought in a bunch of chickens. I'm not sure where they got them, but the guys were excited. The chickens were already dead so we just had to de-feather, cut up, and cook.

A story about a girl, zombies, and more zombies. My Zombie Sister's Dairy, Part 1 started on Instagram around five years ago. Here it is in a more permanent place on my blog. Enjoy!

I decided to put together a list of children and middle-grade stories and books that I love and still find myself drawn to today. What would you add to this list?

Recently, I, with my husband and daughter, took a trip to Utah to see family and friends we haven't seen in a few years. I didn't realize how much I missed and love Utah. Here's a short and raw poem about my love for Utah.

Roger stormed up the porch and pounded on the screen door. His face was flushed, his hands clammy; he wasn’t going to let that deter him.

I wrote the word stillness in my journal as a word to focus on throughout the day, because when we find stillness, we find creativity.

Journaling can help you embrace love for yourself through the power of writing, affirming your thoughts, recognizing abilities, and more.

Jun 15, 2021 So… I was obsessed with cows when I was younger. But not obsessed in the way you would think. Honestly, I don’t like cows that much. I think they smell and their tongues weird me out. But, for some dumb reason, I always made up silly songs about cows. Really. Ask one of my high school friends. They will probably tell you how annoying it was. That strange obsession made its way to some of my college years where I wrote this poem. What do you think? Cow Your cr

May 5, 2021 A Short Story by Sara Ann Comte “And Cally freaked out and hid in the bathroom for an hour.” “Wow.” I could almost see Tanya bouncing with pleasure as she told me the latest gossip. “Sounds like a crazy night.” “Yeah, it was.” Too typical, blonde-bubble-girl reply, as always. “Ya should come next time. Lots of hot boys.” “Yeah, maybe.” “Come on, Halley. You’re always talking about wanting to meet a guy but you never come with us Friday night. I mean, what do you

Feb 14, 2021 ” Brenda!” I heard him, but I kept running. I ran through the market—stalls filled to the brim with trinkets, rugs, souvenirs, and fruits. I ran through the street, causing cars to halt and honk. I ran through the alley—the stink of cat urine and poop poisoning my nose. I kept running. I couldn’t stop. If I did, it would get me. You know, it, love. The man who yelled stop, that was Charlie, the one I wasn’t supposed to fall for. *** I met Charlie on an island g

Nov 4, 2020 This is one of my favorite poems because, well, I’m a writer. I believe I wrote the poem in college when taking a bunch of English theory classes. The big question “Is the author dead?” really made me think about the power of the pen and the creation of words that I immediately disown when I put them to paper. What do you think? The Pen With a mind― My mind. (I gave it away, didn’t you know? It’s called suicide.) I gave myself up Before paper and pen. Paper beca

Nov 2, 2020 While going through some papers, I found a story I wrote back in high school chemistry. It’s a bit nerdy, yes. It must have been for extra credit or maybe my teacher said, “Come up with something creative to show what you’ve learned.” I don’t remember. Usually when a teacher said, “Go be creative,” I wrote a story. Note: I did some surface editing for clarification but left it pretty much how I found it. Enjoy! Carbon Amnesia Carbon washed the barely noticeabl

Oct 23, 2020 You have a story. Yes. I’m talking to you—you, the reader of this blog. I’m not talking about creative stories; although, if...

Oct 8, 2020 As we left off, Milky-White was happy, Leonard was happy, Leonard’s family was happy, and all the people who had bought Leonard’s Miracle Milk were happy. It’s a happy story, right? Well… Every day for a week, Leonard sold 50 bottles of his miracle milk. Each morning, Leonard would milk the cow, have his wife bottle the milk, and walk down to the road where a hundred or so people waited in line—all hoping to get a bit of that amazing miracle milk. Unfortunately,

Oct 1, 2020 Once upon a time… No. No. No. Starting a story like that usually gets a happy ending. Or an educational twist. This story, however, about a cow, is just a story. It is a story about a famous cow, though. Well, she’s a cow in a very famous story. Jack and the Beanstalk—remember that one? If you remember the story, Jack and his mother were not doing so well. They had no money and the only food they had was the milk provided by their cow—Milky-White—until one day,

Oct 5, 2020 Aw. I see you are back for more. You want to know what more there could be to the story of Milky-White and Leonard’s family. Well, okay, I’ll tell you. Milky-White was happy indeed. She was with people who treated her well and knew what she needed. And Leonard and his family were happiest of all. They had fine food, a healthy homestead, and a lively cat. But—and there is always a but—sometimes good comes with bad. Milky-White and her miracle milk was a good thin

Sep 29, 2020 What the heck does that mean? No, really? I wrote it. But what does it mean? What Owning Your Story Means, Really I do have...

Sep 15, 2020 Once upon a time, I ran a separate blog, a kind-of failed blog. I say failed because I gave up on it too fast. But I did gain this story from that blog and I share it with you here. What do you think? The Room I stand in the center of the room, confused. Did they really just tell me that this paintbrush holds the key to my survival? Maybe I can chop the handle up into tiny chunks and eat them. But how long would that really last me? I needed water or better nou