Olympics, Snowboarding, and Sprained Wrists: Part Two (A Samiversary Story)

Hey friends!

I hope the last part of Olympics, Snowboarding, and Sprained Wrists: Part Two amuses you. *sophisticatedly tips her sophisticated top hat in a sophisticated way*


Pain pulsed beneath my skin. Ouch.

I blinked. The snow froze my back. It was hard, like a concrete floor. Bright blue sky burned my eyes.

I’m not dead.

My wrist and shoulder throbbed. My board had ripped away from my boots and was probably halfway down the hill.

At least I get to walk down. I lifted my head, then dropped it back down. Just five more minutes…

A rush of snow pattered the ground behind me. “Are you ok?”

A voice. A girl’s voice.

The girl from the top of the hill. Miss Confident. Read more

Olympics, Snowboarding, and Sprained Wrists: Part One (A Samiversary Story)

Today marks a momentous occasion.

Actually, tomorrow is the momentous occasion. But I’m celebrating it today since it’s Friday and I post on Fridays and all that.

A year ago tomorrow, I posted my first Sam story. Can you believe it? I’ve been pestering you guys with my little, awkward drama king for almost a year.

To commemorate this occasion, here is another Sam adventure. Behold! Olympics, Snowboarding, and Sprained Wrists: Part One (Samiversary Story):


The car zipped down the highway at speeds Timber probably shouldn’t be reaching.

“Mom’s gonna freak! She’ll blame me and––”

I flinched, pulling the phone away from my ear. Timber glanced over, and I shrugged.

“Samantha, I’m fine. I promise,” I said.

“Timber said you were kidnapped and broke your leg or something! I mean, I’m used to the occasional concussion, but kidnapping!? I shouldn’t have let you go. I knew––”

‘’My legs are perfectly f––” The car hit a pothole, and I nearly dropped the phone. “Fine.” I hid my taped wrist behind my back.

“What happened?”

I blew out my cheeks. “I’ll tell you if you promise to calm down, ok?”

“I am calm. I am perfectly calm.” Samantha exhaled, sending a burst of static into my ear.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I wiped out. On a snowboard.” Read more

Cheetos, Kittens, and Paint Cans: Part Seven (The End of A Sam Short Story)

It took me two months. And over 13,000 words.

This is the end, my friends. I finished it.

Behold, the seventh and LAST part of Cheetos, Kittens, and Paint Cans.


I stepped into the gym.

All the benches were stacked against the wall, hibernating in preparation for tomorrow’s game. The two basketball hoops were up and hidden. The court glimmered from a recent clean.

Levi and King were attaching the home side with paint cans, drawing random patterns that covered the  lines. The hiss of their cans must have silenced my entrance, for they didn’t look up when I closed the door behind me.

It would have been wise to take a moment to think of a plan. But, the part of me that believed it was logical said that if I let myself stand there and wonder what to do, I’d never get moving. So, like the smart man I am, I shouted the first thing that came to my mind. Read more