"There there, all better now." The woman sighs over you, patting your knee gently as he stands to put away the first aid kit.

"I think it's time for a nap," She says, picking you up slowly, as not to reinjure your scraped knee. As she carries you off to bed, you see the mice on their tricycles begin to play. They play all kinds of games, those mice. They toss bread crumbs around as though their mothers had never told them not to play with their food. Back and forth, back and forth, the crumbs go flying through the air.

The mice play soccer ball with the stolen marbles from your collection. The marble rolls towards the woman, and unaware of its presence, she slips and falls. You go flying through the air for what seems like hours, only to land softly on the green wooly carpet. Leaving the room, you retrieve the first aid kit off the kitchen counter. When you return, the woman lies still, bleeding out. You place band-aids over her wounds, pat her knee, and whisper.

" There there, all better now."

Hi there! My name is Madelynn Marshall. I am in midle school. My hobbies are writing, reading, drawing, and ord building. I mainly write in secind person, though sometimes I swith over to third. I have been writing, mainly poetry and short stories, for a while now. As for my target audience, it would be anyone who enjoys suspenful writing with a deeper meaning.

This is my short story 'Mice Talk'. My story uses a form of wrting called 'Circular Narrative'. I think this form of writng adds a cool suspense to the story. In the writing, you meet character A, who is protrayed as " The Woman". From the few lines that you here from her, you can kind of gather that she is a sort of mother figure in character B's life. The next character you meet is character B, protrayed as " You", is written in second person. The whole passage is based off of these two characters interacting, one who speaks and the other who rarely does. The last set of characters you meet are the mice. The mice symbolize a sirt of barier between the woman and "You". Through out the middle of the story, "You" seems to be the only one who can see them mice.

The hook of the story is also the end of it. You witness the woman take a fall the ends up being fatal. Upon this, "You" goes into the kitchen and graps the first-aid kit, the same one used to mend his scrapped knee at the begining of the story. "You" even repeats the same phrase used when his scraped knee was being take care of.

Thank you for listening! I hope you enjoyed "Mice Talk"

"There there, all better now." The woman sighs over you, patting your knee gently as he stands to put away the first aid kit.

"I think it's time for a nap," She says, picking you up slowly, as not to reinjure your scraped knee. As she carries you off to bed, you see the mice on their tricycles begin to play. They play all kinds of games, those mice. They toss bread crumbs around as though their mothers had never told them not to play with their food. Back and forth, back and forth, the crumbs go flying through the air.

The mice play soccer ball with the stolen marbles from your collection. The marble rolls towards the woman, and unaware of its presence, she slips and falls. You go flying through the air for what seems like hours, only to land softly on the green wooly carpet. Leaving the room, you retrieve the first aid kit off the kitchen counter. When you return, the woman lies still, bleeding out. You place band-aids over her wounds, pat her knee, and whisper.

" There there, all better now."

It smells like glue

and ink

it smells like everything I've ever wanted

like if I read it

and read it

and read it agian

I might become it

and become so much more

and I don't know what to do

when so much is expected of you, you start to feel the same. You start to give yourself the same expectations

My heart aches.

There is so much to do, and not enough time to do it, and yet

there is still so much time left in the day.

The days are so long and the nights are so short

I am not sleeping

I here her loud breathing in the night

everything about her makes me furious

she reminds me

why I don't want to be here

she reminds me

of the expectations

the burden I carry with me is heavy

she sees me walk with it and does not offer to share the load

and when I ask her

"Then why are you here"

she looks at me as if to say

"To make your days long

and your nights short

so that you may never sleep again"

It says

Dont mind me

I'm just watching

sitting aside

as you tear yourself down

and bulid yourself all over again

you drink tea at 5pm and pretend that it's early morning

your days are 4 hours long

you sleep so much!

I guess that's my fault

I won't leave you alone

But then

how could I?

Bone Marrow

your eyes narrow

you try to forget

but I can't stop bringing it up

again and again

all you do is try to forget

forget and forget and forget

so much that you don't know what to remember

Pores

your saddness

it seeps out

you conceal it

pile on cream

and powder

and you think

How?

I wonder what's really in there?

What really matters.

Walter was running. Not very fast, due to the babbling infant in the crook of his arm, but running none the less. He had decided that he needed to escape. He needed to float. Float like an abandoned noodle in a bowl of soup. Float like two newly deceased 36-year-old adults in a cold, still lake.

So, I just finished children of blood and virtue, the second book in a series and HONEY!

You know that feeling when you finish a book and your happy that you read it, sad because you didn't want it to end, and FURIOUS because it took you on such a whirlwind, only to end on a cliff hanger!!! Ugh! It was such a good book and I have to wait until next year for the book 3!!

As I settled into my seat, I began to think of the events that led up to this moment in time. I guess maybe some good can come of being in the past. Deep in my thoughts, I almost didn't notice when the person I shared a seat with sat down. Almost. The man had a strange aura about him. He seemed nervous, but at the same time, there was an odd sense of cool about him. I felt like I knew him from somewhere. That's when it hit me. Jeffery Epstein? I had suddenly become very uncomfortable. My seatmate was a literal sex trafficker! Wait, I thought to myself. Checking my phone, I took notice of the date. It was July 6th. I had finally begun to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The random time blips, the flight to New Jersey, it all subsequently began to make sense.

"Hello", he says, breaking the thread of irony hanging between us.

"Hello," I said, trying not to sound too nervous.

This was going to be a long flight.

I feel like crying all the time

like nothing I do matters.

So helpless.

Life is really overwhelming right now

and I feel like I shouldn't even have the right to feel overwhelmed

because there are so many people in this world who have it so much worse than me.

At the same time I also feel like I have everthing

because I have art

and my words

even when I can't figure out how to properly use them.