Green Mile Percy Wetmore Novels & Stories

"Do you need us to call Ashton here, sweetie?" "Um no." I said, wiping a tear. "We- we broke up." The room became quiet. "Caleb," dad said. "Bring the shovel. We've got... some business to do." Caleb nodded. "Yeah, we do." And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I gained a hatred for forest green eyes. But hey, I read somewhere that only 2% of the world's population had green eyes, so there might be a very little chance that I see another one again.

Whitmore. It wasn’t a birthday gift, at least not intentionally. It was a ritual. For the past eight years, without fail, Senior Mr. Whitmore has sent me a book on the 25th of every month (my birthday falls on October 25th). Always something new. Always something thoughtful. I hadn’t needed to buy a book for myself in years.

Leo murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against her ear. Gia looked up, wiping a smear of wet grey clay from her cheek with the back of her wrist, a soft, breathless laugh escaping her lips. "So are you, Chairman," she whispered. Twenty minutes later, the thunderstorm had rolled east across the Hudson River, leaving behind a soft, warm August drizzle that smelled of wet slate, pine needles, and fresh ozone. The drainage trench outside was holding. The water in the sub-basement had stopped rising, running clear through the new overflow channel they had cut toward the lower meadow.

She tapped a few buttons, and from where she was, she could clearly see the live feed from one of the drone cameras she’d authorized. The "Sacred Grove." To the wolves, it was where their ancestors’ spirits supposedly hummed in the roots of the ancient cedars. To her, it was six hundred acres of prime timber and untapped geothermal energy that Roman had been too "traditional" to monetize. From her screen, she saw everything perfectly well. Six massive, yellow D11 bulldozers had their engines kicking up plumes of black soot that stained the morning air. They were lined up at the edge of the forest like a row of teeth ready to devour.

, powdery mold. "Mildew?" I asked. "Rot," Maya whispered. "It touches the Green, and the Green forgets how to eat light. It just... melts." She crushed the leaf. It turned into a puff of white spores. "I sent a root to check the western border," Maya said. "The root didn't come back. It screamed and died." "Vance lost scouts there too," I said, looking at Dad. Damian frowned. He gripped the Hammer. "Flies," Damian muttered. "And rot." He looked at me. "Leo. You need to take a look." "Me?" I asked. "I'm the heavy artillery. If I leave D.C., the city is vulnerable." "The city has me," Damian said, tapping the Hammer. "And the Sprout here has the jungle." He pointed West. "Go to the edge of the

"That can be arranged, but do you assure us that you really did find water and can still remember the way back?" "Yes of course I can, nobody in my team knows the forest like I do" "Okay it's a deal then. Bellman! Go tell the guards to let them all in!" Mr Spencer says with finality to Mr Bellman. "But Thomas, the city w-" The General or Mr. Scar man as my mind now calls him, tries to object. "The city will rejoice at the news of the water discovery,Go!" Mr Spencer says. "Okay Thomas. Its your call." The General says through his teeth and leaves the room in anger.

I mumbled and shook my head. I stared on the ceiling for a while and I tried recalling Candice's eyes, and her wide smile. It was all crystal clear in my mind, she had five moles on her face. Her face was the sky and her moles traced a constellation. I smiled at the thought, I could recall the little hairs on her face, her wrinkles when she smiled, even her freckles across her nose, it formed a map.

Eric agreed and said good colored pencils always make for a good drawing. We walked by Corrie's Bakery on our way to the forest. In the window I saw Genevieve sitting with Anita Greenwood and Janet Killian, her hands folded on the table and a professional, mayor's wife's smile on her face. She was so good at dealing with people. I knew without her, my father's campaign wouldn't have been half as decent as it was with her. Raindrops balanced themselves on the needles of the evergreen trees, dripping onto the soil beneath them every so often. The air smelled like traces of the storm from the night before.

I grabbed his arm, but just as I let go, I heard the splash of water and his colorful choice of words. "Oh, damn," I muttered as I peered into the hole Percival had created. There he was, chilling in the green water up to his waist. The surface was covered with algae, sticks, and leaves. I knew Percival would be freaking out—snakes were his one big fear. I never questioned their presence in the water below. "Hey, can you stand?" I called down, trying to keep my voice steady as he swore up a storm, wading through the water in search of higher ground or an exit. "Just find the door and make your way back up here. I’m not getting dirty for you."