The blue sky was striking. The fluffy white clouds resembled little bunnies waiting around for their mother. Tom was nine. He stopped …
The blue sky was striking. The fluffy white clouds resembled little bunnies waiting around for their mother. Tom was nine. He stopped …
There is that one dazzling slo-mo moment, when the kick goes up and the ball ascends towards the heavens, and with it, …
We are a group of early writers who met at the Writer's Studio in Bronte, NSW (Australia) and want to showcase our creativity for the public to enjoy. Each of us has committed to producing a short story each month - that's roughly 4 or 5 stories each month.
If you'd like to receive our stories, drop us a line at movingpenstories@gmail.com.
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