Fiction
Flame on Snow
Flame on Snow The fire had burned low in the brazier, casting long ribbons of amber across the silken tent walls. Outside, the winter wind howled over the high steppes, but within, time moved slower. Softer. The chill could not reach them here.
By Stephanie Wright3 months ago in Critique
“The Station” I Remember. Honorable Mention in Not Quite There Yet Challenge.
The Station Chase stood alone on the empty platform. It was late at night and the fog was rolling in from the surrounding forest, making the already slick grime that coated the old cobblestones even more slippery. The stars and the moon couldn’t shine through the haze, leaving the lone lamppost to illuminate the small space from where it stood at the corner of the platform. The frogs croaked in the depths of the woods and the crickets chirped in the grass. It wouldn’t be long and cicadas would join the chorus.
By Ophelia Keane Braeden4 months ago in Critique
Hallmark
Not Quite There - The Prompt: Share a story that never fully came together, along with what’s holding it back. Not every piece reaches a finished form. This challenge makes space for work that is still unresolved. Share a story that never quite came together, along with what’s holding it back. The gap might come from structure, clarity, scope, or something harder to define. Be specific about where it falters. What feels incomplete and why has it stayed that way. The focus is as much on the friction as the draft itself.
By Denise E Lindquist4 months ago in Critique
Disappointing . Winner in Not Quite There Yet Challenge.
Down here, the earth bleeds, her tissues giving up what is held between silt and sand and rock, allowing it to well where a wound is made in her epidermis, a tooth mark piercing all the way down to her private places, where she steeps in four and a half billion years of what is done, and what is witnessed, and what is felt. The cut is part-scabbed with un-mortared bricks, chalky white dulled through shades of grey and into inky black as they are submerged beneath the pooling surface, where, by design, this new-made skin will never knit.
By Hannah Moore4 months ago in Critique
Just a chapter
Chapter One: Escape I tried hard to open my eyes. Still slightly incoherent, I grew frustrated at the blurred partial vision. My contacts wouldn’t adjust, or maybe I didn’t leave them in. Where were my glasses? I groped blindly for them. Since I had left… something. I had problems sleeping since I had left something. I tried to remember what I had left. What problem did I have? What was I looking for, my hand subconsciously feeling the empty space over my right shoulder? I couldn’t seem to remember anything. A second ago I thought I knew who I was, where I was… but it seemed to be slipping away faster than I could bring it to a conscious thought. Had it been a dream? I reached up to rub the sleep from my eyes, only to jerk my hands swiftly away from my face. Startled by the lumpish, wet, thing on my face I screamed. Flinging my head and sitting to attention I tried to dislodge it. Pain rapidly replaced the panic. The sudden motion sent my head spinning, throbbing. My breaths came short and ragged; my chest felt like it was being crushed. I crumpled forward, trying to placate the sharp stabbing in my stomach, maybe trying to stop my intestines from spilling out. It felt as if my torso was a gaping hole. I was aware of every heartbeat… pounding against my body, as if every beat was a hammer blow inside my chest. A wave of nausea forced me to heave, compounding the pain. My nausea worsened as I came to the realization that there was nothing to vomit but a mouthful of bloody acid.
By Maili Paul4 months ago in Critique
Planes, Trains, and Magic?
The world would end in dragon fire. This, Kavik knew for centuries. He breathed heavy, and his lungs drank thirstily of flame instead of oxygen. Elves were heartier than humans, yet his skin burned as sweat spilled from his pores and instantly evaporated.
By Sama Habib4 months ago in Critique
