“I’m from Great Falls,” she told him. “Me and my friends.” She flipped her carefully curling-ironed brown hair toward the back of the bus...
...As they spoke, Hannah felt the bus slowing. To their right was a carved wooden sign with an arrow pointing up a rutted gravel lane, Camp High Ridge. The bus down shifted and the engine seemed to grind as they turned onto the narrow road heading up. Here we go, she thought.
Word count: 4318
(I'm hoping to make up some words over the weekend!)
No comments:
Post a Comment