Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Faedaze
Daisy leaned back against the wall of the window bench, the dress she was embroidering on falling to her lap, all but forgotten. Her gaze rested on the trees just beyond the edge of her garden, watching with dreamlike expression on her face, waiting for something others doubted would ever come.
Kelsey ClareyPublished 4 days ago in FictionWhispering Woods Challenge Winners
Congratulations to Morgan Christy Rickards for their winning Whispering Woods story, Guardian at the Gate. Morgan has been a Vocal creator since February 2021, and this is their first time placing in Challenge — well done, starting with a win! Guardian at the Gate draws evocatively from Welsh tales of the Cantre'r Gwaelod, a lost sunken kingdom between the forest and the sea. Heledd’s dangerous adventure pulls her towards the water but her spirit is anchored in the woods: Morgan’s writing is atmospheric and exciting.
Vocal Curation TeamPublished about 14 hours ago in ResourcesChestnut Ridge Farm/Scottish Highlanders/Lab's & Littlepop's Popcorn!!
Willow & Buhler The Chestnut Story The view from my back deck Chestnut flowering Chestnut Harvest Well to begin my story, we’ll have to go back to 1999 when I planted a chestnut orchard in the northeast section of my town in Ellington, Connecticut. I had come up with the idea from earlier memories of my father working with some trees in our backyard in the late 60’s. I found out land was available and I was planning on building a house as well. I cleared around 8 acres and planted approximately 800 trees! The planting went well and the trees were looking beautiful. Unfortunately, when the following spring came, because of the combination of too much water in the soil and the variety of chestnut trees I had planted, almost all but a few didn’t make it. I didn’t give up and I cleared some more land that was on higher ground and today almost 25 years later, at the time of this writing, I have approximately 150 trees. Not all are producing because some are still too young. In 2022 I had a record crop and I sold about 1,400 lbs. into the market. Last year, 2023, I didn’t do as well they only produced about half as much as in 2022. That’s farming!
Bruce LuginbuhlPublished 3 months ago in EarthA Hiatus Turned Reflection
No, I wasn't dead, nor fighting off some great mystical beast tyrannizing a group of villagers. To those who look forward to what I have to say, or to put it better, write, I am genuinely sorry for my disappearance from the Vocal platform and community.
Dailyn TownesPublished 2 days ago in HumansFor Fanny Obadia
Fruits abound in her garden and on her body Opposite an ocean and memories aroused Rested for four decades, they again embody
Patrick M. OhanaPublished a day ago in PoetsSomething
There's always something. Even when there's nothing. Especially when there's nothing. But it gets drowned out by all the noise
Dominic Casey-LeePublished 5 days ago in PoetsWas I a Model in Japan?
During my time in Nagoya I worked and lived at the strangely famous hostel and café Nagonoya. With its chequered floors and florescent lighting it felt quite dated, but I think that was supposed to be part of the charm. The dorms were always fully booked on weekends with domestic tourists and there was always a buzz in the downstairs café. Camera crews were constantly in and out of the place interviewing the Japanese staff members who worked the café. I think it had something to do with the egg sandwiches. At least that was what was on most of the merchandise, except for that one dishcloth with the owner’s face on it. Was I being employed by a local celebrity?
Susanna KiernanPublished 6 days ago in WanderStealing the Spotlight
Every chance I get to shine bright, I can Count on you to ruin my best moment Lurking like a shadowy villain, you Invade my space and darken my limelight
Heather HagyPublished a day ago in PoetsDisarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
James U. RizziPublished 2 days ago in FictionSenseless
Every surface of your room, Covered in darkness Like a black satin sheet. Intimacy and anonymity Paradoxically take over my
Kiersten WeldonPublished 3 days ago in PoetsStuck in Place
Amy whistled as she walked through her front yard, looking for any sticks she could pick up and throw into the pile she and her brother were making. They had a big windstorm recently; as such, all the trees in their yard had suffered some damage in some loss of sticks. Or perhaps losing those sticks was a good thing since their trees probably needed to be pruned anyway. Amy wasn't sure.
Rebecca PattonPublished 6 days ago in FictionKeeping Company
I keep people company on train rides and bus rides or while they drive their cars to promotions or breakups to pick up some coffee
Sandra MatosPublished a day ago in PoetsVocal Weekly Leaderboard: 04/17/2024
Welcome to the weekly update of the Leaderboard! We're thrilled to showcase Vocal's most discussed stories, popular picks, and rising stars. Let's dive into this past week's standout contributors and their remarkable achievements.
Vocal TeamPublished a day ago in ResourcesMidnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
Alexander McEvoyPublished 4 days ago in FictionNight Time
In the spirit hour, Everything gets quiet, Or so it seems — Songbirds take refuge in the canopies of trees. A cat is howling, and there are faint barks in the distance,
Ute Luppertz ✨Published 3 days ago in PoetsSappho’s Daughter
Even the tulips yield to the sun— Collateral beauty admidst the sin of man Lust, among the seven deadly, I may Infused genetically, the capacity to love is irrevocable
Summer RobinsonPublished 4 days ago in PoetsThe “Time Slip” Club
“Come on! Stop learning for today and come with me!”. I knew that when Tom set his mind to something, especially when it came to weekend fun, hardly anything would stop him.
Sergej KlementinovskiPublished 4 days ago in FictionMen like us
Men like us trudge in mud under Russian fire while callow others load the missiles. [-] Men like us, those poor we hate
Housekeeping
Reading glasses swinging back and forth, dangling from a drug store string slung around my neck I said, to myself of course, I never want to wear this kind of thing. But now I do, sometimes. I like the idea of relaxing, being a comfortable woman of the home, swinging open the door in a batik housedress, casually welcoming someone in, pets or as the French say, animals for company, something like that. As if pets had no other reason to be. Years of watching women folding, unfolding, refolding socks, sheets, dinner napkins, a lot happens in those moments of freshly laundered piles heaped onto the sofa, better the dining room table as long as it’s clean of course. My grandparents hung it all out in the sun, flopping away without a care, ironing sheets was necessary. When my paternal grandmother died, the very night she passed over the clothesline, into the black heavens sprinkled with sequins of silver, she came to me in a dream. I stood at a table folding clothes, I became aware that there was someone next to me folding as well. I first recognized her hands, red and wrinklie, with age spots. “Nanny?” I didn’t look toward her; she said in her most comforting southern way, “Don’t be afraid.” Then I turned toward the left looking up, up, up, and there she was all in white, a long crisp gown, fresh and smiling. “I love you.” She’d spoke. Then she was gone.
Finding Inspiration During Change
Inspiration is all around us. Sometimes it comes in an email labeled 'TYWK' or 'For You'. Sometimes it's a meme posted on social media. Other times it's more subtle.
Judey KalchikPublished 17 days ago in Motivation