Two years ago today, I created a blog in hopes to share some of my stories with other people. That blog has since grown into what it is today: Writerial. I am so grateful that it has come this far. Thank you to everyone who has just started reading now, and thank you to everyone who has been here since the beginning, and thank you to everyone in between. Happy birthday Writerial.

NOTE: Merry Christmas Eve to those of you who celebrate it. In celebration of the holidays, enjoy this Christmas-themed short story, courtesy of yours truly.

TW: Mentions of death

    It was a beautiful Christmas morning. The sky was bright and blue, and overnight a light blanket of snow had covered the ground. Families walked through the park, laughing and smiling and playing, celebrating the season together.
    But for Jackson Greene, it was not a beautiful morning at all.
    He flew down the stairs, swinging around the end of the banister and landing on the wooden floor. He sped over to the door, throwing on a thick coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck. He was almost out the door when a hand blocked his path. He looked up to see his father looming over him, glaring. “Now where do you think you’re going?”

Write a story or poem that STARTS with "And it was all a dream" -Julia Smith

NOTE: Thank you Julia for all of these prompts! Remember you can submit prompts on the story highlight on my Instagram or in the comment section.

And it was all a dream
The laughing, the love
Too good to be true
Having people that cared
And didn’t make you feel scared
It was something that’s new
Not having to walk around them
Tip Toeing on eggshells
Waiting for everything to blow
When they didn’t think you were bad
And they didn’t get mad
It’s something I didn't know
I knew it was too sweet
But now that it’s gone
I just want to scream
I miss them so much it’s tough
But now they’re better off
And now it’s all a dream

Write a story about self worth. -Julia Smith

TW: Death, implied suicide

    You are worth so much more than you know.
    I remember when we were younger we were sitting in the park, gazing up at the night sky. 
    It was cold, and it was beautiful. Your eyes were shining just as bright as the stars.
    I’ll never forget what you told me on that day.
    You said, “Look at all of those stars. Look at how big that sky is. Look at how big the world is. 
    We are so small. So insignificant.
    We will never amount to anything.
    We will never be worth anything.”
    I didn’t know how to respond to that.
    I tried to assure you that you were worth something.
    That the world was worth something.
    That the world was better with you in it.
    You shrugged.
    “I guess.”
    I knew you didn’t believe me.
    But I proved you wrong.
    I see you every time I look up at the stars and think of how large the world is.
    Maybe it’s big enough that you’re out there somewhere.
    Still watching over me.
    Still thinking about me.
    That thought comforts me.
    And I see you every time I visit the small grave in the cemetery next to the school.
    With your name carved into its stone.
    I walk past it everyday before I go home.
    Sometimes I bring flowers.
    Sometimes I drive there at night and park outside the wrought iron fence that protects you.
    I lay out a blanket.
    I sit next to the stone.
    And I pretend that you’re still here, talking to me.
    That you had believed that you were worth enough to stay.
    I think how no one else could have changed the world as much as you have.
    You are worth so much more than you know.