James Van Pelt

Writing fiction feels like an adventurous act, nudging aside reality a word at a time.

The teacher took two long strides and stood beside Parker__ desk. Before the boy could speak, Mr. Earl threw the desktop open. For a second, he stared into it. A white glow reflected off his face.__hat is this?_ he said, as he reached toward the brightness. __areful, Mr. Earl,_ Parker started to say, but it was too late.The teacher screeched before lurching against the desk. He went down quickly, his feet vanishing into the desk last.