by Sarah Goldsmith The sun was already creeping high in the sky, its rays dancing on the rippling river. The golden wheat in the field beyond the opposite river bank fluttered in the gentle breeze, the church steeple peeking above it on the horizon. Bees buzzed lazily, already drunk on the pollen they carried. It was […]More
Enjoy the feature stories selected each week by the editors of The Weekly Knob, a creative writing publication.