Stories (307/0)
- Top Story - April 2024
Fucked Up Fairytales - An Unofficial ChallengeTop Story - April 2024
I've just had my birthday, so I feel allowed to ask you to indulge me. Get your tiniest pen out! How is that for an image? I was going for "fucked up fairies". What do you think? I was hoping to get one where someone is passed out and someone else is drawing genitalia on his or her face, but this is OK.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Writers
Sex Robot Challenge - And The Winner Is...
Aaaallll the way back at the end of January/beginning of February, I set a challenge. I'm very late doing this follow-up, but since my paid workload increased and Vocal doesn't pay my bills, I'm not even sorry, sorry.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Writers
God is Empty, Just Like Me
Of course, the old witch couldn't live forever, although to me (and I'm sure to many others) it felt like she had. As much as I'd despised her, I had to admit that she'd become, in her own way, a pillar in the community. Her funeral was well-attended, the little chapel bursting at its seams with snivelling women of all ages. Each one, surely, remembering their gratitude for her awful service. Each one a wicked, wicked sinner. A flood of gorgeous blooms, perhaps one for each seedling she uprooted and cast away, as if no more than a weed.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Fiction
The Urge to Scribble
Sometimes I enjoy writing, rather than typing on my laptop. There's something immensely satisfying about it, if the mood strikes. You can go slowly, taking great care over each letter. Or you can scribble like a demon, hardly able to keep up with your own thoughts. Each word can loop across the page, literally flowing. You can get fancy and make The Capitals really big and ostentatious, the tails on the g's and y's delightfully ridiculous.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Writers
That Infernal Clock
It's a secret, supposedly. What they get up to up there. No one is supposed to know. But lots of us do. Well. We know the what, if not the how. Most of the women, and some of the girls. It's whispered behind hands in church, with dark, exchanged glances.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Fiction
- Top Story - March 2024