rpatel
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Buchenwald | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | B is for Beach | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Winter | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | With Toy Soldiers in his Hand | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Mother Nature | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Past the Finish Line | rpatel | 2 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Rush | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | There Was a Child Went Forth (In the Tradition of Walt Whitman) | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Our Final Prayer | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Clutch of War | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The High School Food Chain | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Lopsided Grin | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Blank Canvas | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Just a Ball and a Stick | rpatel | 1 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | His Only Witness | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Downpour | rpatel | 2 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Dedication | rpatel | 0 | 12 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Weight of Responsibility | rpatel | 2 | 14 years 5 months ago |
| Story | The Elderly Do Know Best | rpatel | 2 | 14 years 5 months ago |
| Story | Words | hadley | 2 | 14 years 5 months ago |
| Story | La Casa De Seguridad | rpatel | 2 | 14 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Lark Ascending | britishbecca | 2 | 14 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The winner | Louise178 | 3 | 15 years 1 month ago |
My stories
Just a Ball and a Stick
I glance over at the clock. Fifteen seconds. That’s all the time we have to score. All the time we have to win.
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- 1 comment
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- 924 reads
His Only Witness
The stench of burning flesh diffused across the diminutive rooms horded with individuals Humans were tossed in to fiery pits as to destroy the remnants of the slaughtering
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- 734 reads
The Lopsided Grin
Tears began streaming from Rebecca’s eyes as she thought of her grandfather and all of the memories that lived in the small house.
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- 1 comment
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- 1209 reads
Buchenwald
The master race created, with eyes as blue as the prisoner’s uniform. And hair as gold as the Star of David.
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- 749 reads
The Blank Canvas
The brush glided across the blank canvas, enveloping it in a torrent of color. Cerulean blues, ruby reds, burnt oranges, magentas, and emerald greens replaced the white that was once present.
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- 1133 reads
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