Adventure
Saving Anne Frank: A Time Traveler's Journey to Alter History
Sophie had always been fascinated by the story of Anne Frank. As a child, she had read her diary over and over, imagining what it must have been like to live in hiding for so long. But as she grew older, she became increasingly frustrated with the knowledge that Anne and her family had ultimately been captured and killed by the Nazis.
By Wael Alwazir4 years ago in Fiction
Satironical Meta Magical Realism
Narrator's preface: The writer who is the protagonist of the below story includes an author's preface in many of his written works. Generally these are full of psuedo intellectual clap trap that sounds intelligent at first blush, but upon closer inspection is actually nonsense. He was not available to provide an author's preface in this case telling me that he was busy "inventing a brand new genre of writing" which he had dubbed satironical meta magical realism. And there you have it, a perfect example of what I meant with that intelligent nonsense comment. Apparently he was doing this in order that he might produce a story he could enter in a writing contest for some two bit website nobody has ever heard of much less cares about. I told him good luck and offered to dream something up to cover his author's preface for this "story." His fan base which consists primarily of persons recently released from or soon to be committed to a mental institution, prisoners, hobos and homeless vagabounds get very agitated when he fails to include an author's preface in any given story he writes. Of course they also get agitated by anything anyone else considers normal. Ah well. Enjoy the below, or don't, it's no skin off my back either way.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Fiction
Dream Shadows
Chapter 1 The Photograph Rubbing her eyes tiredly she tried pushing away the memory of the faded print. It was her motivation but that week the nightmares were worse than usual, and she just wished it was over already. What she knew is that when she finally finished the memories would never flash again because it would be like it never happened. At least that is what she liked to tell herself.
By Ruby Estelle 4 years ago in Fiction
Spell Hunter
Shortly after 10 am, when the museum opened on Fridays, a school bus arrived. It had been a relatively normal, calm morning. Alcide picked up a black coffee and piece of baklava from a Greek diner on the same block as his lodgings, which were only a few blocks away from the city’s Natural History Museum. For many years now he made it a habit of a cup of hot coffee and a warm pastry before the final move on a job. That way, he figured, if something went wrong and the job went sideways, at least he had a belly full of coffee and sweets.
By Colton Babladelis4 years ago in Fiction
The Time Traveler's Mission: Saving Millions
James is a time traveler working for the organization Delta, which sends time travelers to different times, correct the event or learn and adapt. He had spent years exploring different eras and timelines, venturing to different historical moments to witness events first-hand. However, the task he had been given was unlike any other he had encountered before.
By Ravishankar V K4 years ago in Fiction
Perfectly Natural
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Everyone in Minneapolis saw it on April 21, 2016. It would only rain purple for him on the day he died. Somehow every time someone hears 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' you know the words. It's six minutes long, has no discernable melody, no chorus, and yet I don't know a single person who doesn't like it. You go certain places and say, "You remind me of the babe," loud enough and people break into a full song and dance. Why Graceland & Neverland bring people to tears, for bad or good reasons, they have them, and those reasons are strong. We are not sure who the flash mob movement benefited, but it was a well-documented spike for someone or some thing. When some of the big ones teamed up with words, camera, voice, and charisma, you the collective effort, you think is just for money, but it's for something greater. But then again, you only think of one name when you hear, "There's no crying in baseball." The woman older than sliced bread who died three weeks before her one-hundredth birthday and we still wanted more of, that golden, first lady of television. Those were the big ones; the ones anyone could recognize, practically gods in their own rights. Those who would play to thousands at a time, entertain and endure for years, even though most of them were dead.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her4 years ago in Fiction
