Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Vale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
Matthew FrommPublished 4 days ago in FictionForced Compliance Not Necessary
Some people knew this would happen. The chips in our heads, I mean. Everyone laughed. Isn't that funny? The crazy part: even the conspiracy nuts had a mobile phone. Everyone walked around with the "chip" glued to their hand, eyes glued to chip.
L.C. SchäferPublished a day ago in FictionSmartystan
Rain didn’t stop Mala. Swaddling for Edgar covered the baby boy’s body and she held her other son’s, Burton, six-year-old hand. The mud, muck, and mire didn’t hinder her from staying on course with her mission. From Pennsylvania, they all trekked to get closer and closer to land that was never promised but simply implied. Each step produced more mud caked around her sneakers. She didn’t care. Her rucksack provided them protein packs to put into plastic bottles and nuts and berries and dried meats to keep their muscles in good health. Water hydrated. She rested. The baby had been asleep the entire time that she had started her journey and her eldest son remained silent throughout the excursion as well.
Skyler SaundersPublished 2 days ago in ChaptersThe Eidolon
The rain pattered on the sidewalk in a steady drizzle, pooling below the curb. The veiled mist of night obscured the way ahead, only being pierced by the high beams of the occasional passing car.
Chéri
Doe eyes small nose lips red perfect would be said, What a pleasant beauty, must've been blessed. Dancing fireflies couldn't compete, the fire burnt
The problem with being a nice person
Who would have thought that being a nice person could be problematic. The majority of people would tell you that’s what they want to be or at least want those around them to be, but as it turns out, what we want and what we say we want are worlds apart. I won't stress or ramble on about how I would like things to be, but I’ll just analyze why this is, I am not sure either if a solution is even possible.
real JemaPublished a day ago in ConfessionsVocal & my relationship to publishing traditionally
Ever since my small writing beginnings, when I started writing on Vocal in February 2021, I had been in a truly terrible slump & funk when it came to my writing. I had so many unfinished projects, ideas, half finished manuscripts and first chapters that were going nowhere.
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 3 days ago in MotivationWhere the fault lies
An acrostic piece for my poem-a-day challenge that has become more of a poem-mostly-every-day thing. It is what it is, lol!
Heather HublerPublished 2 days ago in PoetsThe Longest Language Journey Back
When you have a godawful experience for years (perhaps French lessons) and need to write about it as part of the healing process and already you feel parts of your cognitive machinery trying to “clean it up” (guess it’s French lessons) for public viewing by default since it’s likely to make some toes curl up (sorry, but definitively French lessons.)
The Dani WriterPublished 6 days ago in ConfessionsGay your life must be
“My Dad’s got itchy feet” I would say. I don’t know where I first heard this phrase, but I parroted it often as a child, a vague but sufficient explanation for the fragmented answers I offered to “where did you….” questions. The assumption was that we were a military family. When I went to Sixth Form College and completed the full two years without moving, I set a personal record for time spent at any one educational institution. But we were not a military family. We were a family governed by a restless soul, for better and worse, and now, well into my adulthood, I am the restless governor of a home loving family.
Hannah MoorePublished 6 days ago in WanderA Breath Of Fresh Air
Why do they call it "falling in love" when it is something much more romantic than that? I didn't fall into your arms, let go of my defenses, spill my vulnerabilities out from my heart and let you catch the pieces.
After the Beep
My ghost likes to roam and chase inky dreams. If shaken awake, it screams many screams. - So please don’t disturb,
In Eclipse Challenge Winners
Creator Dane BH is one of our Vocal stalwarts. We’re so grateful to all of your in our Vocal community, and so thrilled by your achievements. This is the third time Dane has won one of our challenges, and she appears too on our Vocal podcast, Write Here, Write Now — take a listen if you haven’t already. But she’s not our winner because we know her: the subtlety and simplicity of we watched the world go dark. together. is what made it our winner of the In Eclipse challenge, with the grace and ease of its lines and observation. As it happens it also expresses the community spirit that means so much to us.
Vocal Curation TeamPublished 2 days ago in ResourcesValley Blues
Oh home - How I miss you today Enjoy this article X poetry piece about a time previously lived in a mountain town exploring the Islands of B.C. and its cattle ranges.
Kalina BethanyPublished 5 days ago in ConfessionsTales of the Aurora Borealis
Who knew a solar storm could be so beautiful? Purples, reds, and greens shimmering in our skies like dancing ribbons. Hypnotic and enchanting, the Northern Lights have had us humans in complete awe for centuries. Which got me thinking, what did our ancestors think of the Aurora Borealis?
Rosie J. SargentPublished 5 days ago in FYIStarlight Manor
“First things first,” the white-haired boy commands over his shoulder. His voice is imperious as always, firm with a jurisdiction well beyond his mere fourteen years. “Don’t ask questions.”
angela hepworthPublished 6 days ago in FictionSincerity
True sincerity is the scariest thing to hear It hurts to have others truly know our pain To know someone that has stood in the same rain
Atomic HistorianPublished 4 days ago in Poets$#*£ Resilience
I was going to relax this evening. Tune out, hunker down, look after myself. I need it. I am exhausted. Thoroughly used up. And it's only Wednesday. Not even half way through the week. A week that in the UK, is Mental Health Awareness week. I don't know who decides these things, who gets to co-opt a day, a week, a month, and declare it a thing about a thing. But I do know a lot about mental health. I know a lot about mental health AND I know a lot about working for the UK's National Health Service. And so it was with interest that I clicked play on the below video, earlier today. By the time I finished, I was in tears.
Hannah MoorePublished 3 days ago in PsycheCoffee with Taylor Swift
Like sitting across from a tarot card reader You somehow find my darkest, weakest moments And tear them from my chest with no warning,
Kiersten WeldonPublished 26 days ago in PoetsA Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
Rob AngeliPublished 4 days ago in Poets