Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
As The Sun Rises
As the sun rises casting its morning glow, I stand at the edge of the sea, shrouded in darkness, My mind feels the shadows of a depressing low.
Carol TownendPublished 7 days ago in Poets3 Mistakes You Are Making In Your Novel That Are Boring Your Reader
The last thing you want a reader to be when experiencing the world of your novel is to be bored to tears. This leads to them either returning your book for their money back, placing it on the shelf never being touched again, or it being donated so that maybe someone else will find enjoyment in it.
Elise L. BlakePublished 7 days ago in WritersThe Invisble amongst us
"In January 2021, I was driving to see my mother at a local hospital. Traffic halted suddenly, and I was so happy I did not strike the vehicle in front of me. I gazed up in my rear-view mirror just as the vehicle behind struck my little sub-compact vehicle. "
Bruce Curle `Published 8 days ago in PsycheFifteen seconds to violet
Victor regarded the electronic card around his neck thoughtfully, the numbers rising the tiniest fraction by the second. The bar almost looked like it wasn’t moving at all, if he didn’t look long enough.
LC MinnitiPublished 9 days ago in FictionA Good Day Coming
* Gotta start the morning on an up-swing Opportunities are on the rise Ordinary days can lose the zip- zing Dealing with the rain in cloudy skies
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 9 days ago in PoetsInshallah
Istanbul is a city bristling with life, a place where past and present, sacred and profane, intertwine under the watchful gaze of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. As I explore this crossroads of cultures with Maya, my nine-year-old niece and the daughter of my late brother-in-law Frank, and my wife Nadia, Frank's sister, I find myself on a journey not just through Istanbul's history, but also into the depths of my own beliefs. Staying with Maya and her mother Elvan, my sister-in-law, I begin to see the city anew through their eyes, and to understand why James Baldwin said it "revived" him.
Geoffrey PhilpPublished 6 days ago in WanderDying Later
Cold bites with mean blue teeth, and it bit her savagely now. Cheeks and nose-tip raw, and the rest of her fairly frozen to match, all the way down to her bones.
L.C. SchäferPublished 10 days ago in FictionHello
If I had a cent for every open challenge, I would have no sense.
Cathy holmesPublished 8 days ago in PoetsTHE ENVELOPE PLEASE
Fiesta! ¡Olé! It's Cinco de Mayo and time to celebrate the ASK ME IN DECEMBER the unofficial challenge winners. The creators had fun and it was fun reading all their entries. From Ballads to the Blues and a Villanelle to a Haiku, I was honored by the forty-four entries.
Babs IversonPublished 7 days ago in WritersDrizzling heart
They never knew my name Until the drizzling hearts spoke up Solo sole seldom survives May nights own lights Not until they lose their identity
Once More Unto The Breach
He let the sword slip through his other gauntleted hand. Athlistan stood atop the crest of the rubble of Bordanium’s ruptured curtain wall. Beyond, the remnants of the Saxon’s first assault regrouped. They would come again–Athlistan knew it.
Matthew FrommPublished 6 days ago in FictionA Few Moments More
You’ll give it one more minute, and then you’re headed back inside. It’s pretty chilly out, after all. Not that that’s a real issue - you’ve stood out here for longer, and in colder weather. The snow is nearly gone already; tiny, dirt-stained islands of the stuff form a shrinking archipelago dotting the sea of green that is your backyard. Striations of sunlight dance through the trees at the edge of the woods and paint the scene in a camouflage of brown, green, and gold.
Gabriel HuizengaPublished 9 days ago in FictionThe Statistic
I can’t move today. Why is this cycle so vicious? Every potentially meaningful moment is promptly thrown away. Will I be a statistic?
BrettNotGregPublished 7 days ago in PoetsTo Give Your Last Twenty
He walks oddly, shuffling and nearly tripping down the hallway toward his apartment door. I slow my pace, allowing my neighbor— a stuffy ex-marine with one missing tooth and a strong odor of liquor and two weeks' worth of unwashed stench always accompanying him—to reach his door. I crinkle my nose, nearly gagging as he dawdles ahead.
AshleyPublished 9 days ago in MotivationAnd the Sun Came Up Tremendous
In memory of the 12 girls who were among the first victims of the atomic age. The screen on Mara's smartphone screamed beams of blue light into her eyes as she doom scrolled through social media. It was 4:13am, and she was still laying on her side in her bed unable to let go of the news headlines whipping past.
Amanda StarksPublished 9 days ago in FictionI'm Fire!
It’s not about bad hair but bad air. I breathe fire you breathe rain. Dousing water on my dreams sending my hopes into steam!
Cynthia FieldsPublished 9 days ago in PoetsThis Surely Is a Dream
1:00 The scent of rain hangs heavy in the air. Catlike, shivering, you slip through the door wearing your shyness as makeup, rosy blotches blooming atop damp skin.
I Hate When People Ask About You
I hate when people ask about you As if your pain is mine to share. You’re tougher than I’ll ever be, But the heartache is yours to bare.
Darby S. FisherPublished 11 days ago in PoetsA Lifetime in Sixty Seconds
As I approach the stage I wonder what the heck I am going to say in one minute to a audience of young people that will even matter. Ah, what the heck, I'll just fly by the seat of my pants like I always do.
Pamela Walsh-HoltePublished 11 days ago in FictionA Minute's Difference
It was a Tuesday, 2:58...59 in the afternoon. My friend Andy was white-knuckled gripping the edge of his school desk, staring desperately at the second hand of the clock slooowly circling round, while our teacher droned on and on. A girl behind me cracked her gum. Another classmate was fervently scribbling notes. I was trying to look just awake enough not to get called on. Wrapped in my grey hoodie, eyes drooping behind uncut bangs, head leaning on folded arms, I appeared the cliche of a bored teenage boy, on the verge of daydreaming his way into a more exciting life.
Ellen StedfeldPublished 9 days ago in Fiction