Gabe Nasrallah

  Orange in the Mountains   1. You stand here in the midst of a once-cleared field, surrounded by tall, dead weeds. 2. Brown Georgia soil is stuck to your worn-out tennis shoes. 3. To the side of the field is an old shed, rotten and covered with vines. 4. A wasp silently flies into the shed through a crack in its siding like a ghost floating through a wall. 5. Next to the field is a fast-moving creek, babbling along, pushing orange and yellow autumn leaves downstream, over rocks and roots winding through the valley. 6. There is a lonely deck over the creek. 7. It’s boards are rotten, and covered in moss and lichen in all shades of green. 8. You wish you had a tent to spend the night. 9. Your dog runs behind you and rubs her head against your legs. 10. You crunch your way over to a crusty lawn chair and consider yourself care free. 11. The noise and bustle of the city is gone and replaced by the peaceful, peachy light of a setting sun. 12. The leaves that are still stuck to the...

            The maid, Mrs. Margaret, yelled to John from downstairs in a frantic tone. There was a look of over joyous excitement etched into her wrinkled skin. “They’re here! In the town! The whole army!” She exclaimed over and over. John felt a smile creep its way onto his face as he glanced out of the window. She was right! The colonist army was marching its way through Boston! Filled with patriotism, John flung open the window and let out a cheer, drowned out by countless other excited Bostonians. Then, with a scowl, he spotted him. All of John's patriotism left him in an instant and was replaced by a nervous feeling in his gut. There he was. In front, was the famous gentleman, General George Washington trotting along on his white steed. Children showered him with flowers while men raised their caps in celebration. Women hung out of windows and waved their handkerchiefs. All over Boston, the great excitement was pulsing. There, on his horse, Wash...

 Gone. Gabe Nasrallah   The puppy sits on the couch In the old man’s spot It knows it’s in trouble, But the old man never comes.

  By Gabe Nasrallah   Dreams of falling always feels so real. The wind blasting midair, the blurred image of motion burning into the subconscious, and of course that indescribable feeling of gravity at work. But when does one know that the depiction of falling is real? How can one decipher dream from reality? What had once started as a careless game had become a nightmare and it was all Wilson's fault. He ruined our little game and made us all live in fear. The day when he looked over the edge and glanced at me, I saw it on his face. Even he knew he had taken it too far. Oh, I remember how easily the game had started! It all began is John’s basement. And of course, John and the rest of the guys had no clue that that day would start the end of our lives. That evening we were all having a bit of rather childish fun (a merry difference from the dreary discussion of politics). Ahh, how well it was going, until Wilson shouted, “Tag! Your it!” He poked his finger roughly i...

The Pines Wind blasted my hair as I stuck my head out of the back seat window. I smiled and took in the warm summer air, yelling just for the thrill of it. We were cruising through Georgia on our way to Jacksonville to move Kyle into his dorm. I looked ahead. More pine trees. Rows of them as far as the eye could see, backward and forwards. Quickly, I sat back down and glanced over at Kyle. “Kyle, when are we gonna get to the next town man?” I asked.  “Yeah Kyle, where are we buddy? I gotta pee so bad,” Will added, yelling from the passenger seat. He turned around and stared at Kyle who was passed out, snoring like a baby. I saw my chance and smacked his face a few times before he emerged out of deep sleep and muttered some indistinguishable words. Kyle looked around the car for a bit, eyes half shut, as he slowly regained consciousness. The car made a sudden turn and he swung sideways snapping him out of his post-nap trance. “Matt, you suck at driving,” he said, adjusting his posit...

  Dude don’t jump that! By Gabe Nasrallah “Mike your crazy bro! Don’t jump over the fire dude, there’s no way your gonna make it!” Bret yelled at Mike while laughing.                “Shut up Bret!” Mike yelled back from the other side of the massive fire, “I can make that jump easy buddy!” Mike, Bret, and Samuel were all on the rocky beach of a Georgia lake, that was far below full. The low waters uncovered several old logs that had been a menace to many an unwatchful boater. The three friends had hoisted a few of them up and brought them to their favorite summer spot on the edge of the water. With Bret’s dad’s lighter fluid and a few matches, they had made the biggest fire any of them had ever seen, with flames almost touching the moon. Not after long however, Mike was at the far end of the fire, sizing it up.                “He always d...