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Stories in Chapters that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
This is where it gets dark.
"Mom, she’s dead.” I don’t know how I wrote those words or why I chose to say it that way. But those were the facts. They found her and she was dead. How else do you say that? I had to tell my mom, she knew we’d been out looking for Libby all day. So, I just said it. My phone was old and the battery was of course on 1% which meant I had to say it quickly. I remember trying to think of a different way to say “my battery is dying” because the words “dead” and “dying” were now suddenly very real and literal for me. Mary Anne was crying, and her friend Wendy who’d come to be a support was crying. I think I was crying too. I think I was also completely made of stone. I guess it was shock. But to be honest, I knew in my gut as soon as I got the call that morning telling me Libby was missing that it wouldn’t end like it did last time. But still my body and brain were made of cold, hard, marble. All I could do was whatever had to be done. Mary Anne and I knew that the next thing that had to be done was to tell Kathryn. But she was thousands of miles away getting ready to perform on Broadway.
Mary SkinnerPublished 9 months ago in Chapters- Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge
Beer Money
Masters Degree secured, job quit, full-time writing career underway, the first part of my revenge was almost complete. Who cared if I was a fat, ambitious, opinionated motherfucker? Well, him obviously, but who else?
S. A. CrawfordPublished 9 months ago in Chapters What They Don't Tell You About Being The Creative One
What they don’t tell you about being “The Creative One” is that everything you do is a copy of someone else. Your notebook is filled with snowflakes in bright pink, purple, and blue. Ever since you saw Frozen, it’s all you think about. Your pen draws each stroke like an ice skater glides across the rink. The geometric shapes and straight lines are soothing to draw, and it is more entertaining than listening to dry lectures. When you’re not drawing snowflakes, you’re writing Sherlock Holmes fiction. As you sit and listen to Dr. Davis drone on and on about something completely unrelated to Child Psychology, young John and Sherlock are adventuring through the streets of London with the newest addition to their team, a bloodhound pup named Toby.
Sarah MasseyPublished 9 months ago in ChaptersSave One Bullet
Shaking myself back to life after my near miss with death and prison, I checked on my phone for motels in the area and found three that looked promising. The closest one was the ‘Rest Inn’. It was five minutes away from my location, so I drove past it, quickly. Ugh. Nope. Not while I still had working credit cards.
Tina D'AngeloPublished 9 months ago in ChaptersSunrise
I remember that day like it was yesterday. That sunrise changed me to my core and I would never listen to the Beatles song, “Here Comes the Sun”, in the same way again.
Gerald HolmesPublished 9 months ago in ChaptersUnfinished Joe
I always thought it would be fun to have conversations with the story characters I created. I like to think that all creative writers have some deeper layer of connection to their characters, one that teeters on the borderline of breaking their mind’s fourth wall. It was in this mysterious space of almost child-like imagination that the idea of Joe was born.
The Stone of Virtue
The sun peeked over the horizon as Rose made her way into town. Morning dew clung to the grass, but already the scent of warm earth hung in the air. She passed people here and there, some collecting eggs from rickety coops, others trying not to slosh buckets of milk on the ground before getting them inside. No one spoke or offered so much as a nod in her direction.
Kelly BelmontPublished 10 months ago in ChaptersDoubts and Desires
Doubts and Desires: A Woman's Inner Struggle in a Perfect Life She questions if her thoughts are misguided. If she is living a life of perfection or just an illusion. Is it really ok to be content? She looks around at her home full of belongings and comforts that many would dream of having. She wonders if she is being selfish in her pursuit of happiness; mothers and wives were supposed to put everyone else's happiness above their own. She considers how hard she has worked to get to this point in life. The countless hours spent studying and the responsibilities she took on at an early age to ensure her white-picket lifestyle. She made so many sacrifices along the way to check each of life's boxes.
A Lady with a PenPublished 10 months ago in ChaptersI Ran So You Could Fly
We weren’t always slaves. We weren’t always living in the provinces. Mama told me that we come from a great land called Africa. We were stolen from there, proper snatched up.
Tales of a Retail Nothing
So I'm going to get this one out of the way, at least in the broader sense. There will be more on the post lock down era I'm sure, because well, it was a lot.
Changeling Child
The night that Mary Bennet was born had been a clear, cold one. Stars illuminated the cloudless sky, as if watching over some fortuitous event. The village of Longbourn, and it's neighboring town of Meryton, were as quiet as they ever could be. Indeed, it was almost peaceful, if not for the happenings at Longbourn.
Natasja RosePublished 3 years ago in Chapters