Adventure
The Box Office
A box landed on my desk. It had been tampered with because I had seen the tape that had secured the box, had been sliced open with a sharp object. It was just a plain old box. The standard tan brown colour, no advertising, nothing extravagant about it. I turned it over to see if there was at least an address on it. Nothing.
By Jerome Smith-Pula4 years ago in Fiction
Folded In
One day while sitting at my apartment, I was kicking back in my seat. My neighbor Julie had stopped on by to hang out for the day. With a stack of chicken thighs in the oven and Minecraft YouTube videos playing on the TV, today was going to be a lazy day no matter how you spelt it. After a morning workout and having entered in a few more poems onto Vocal, I was exhausted even before it had already turned 09:00. Nothing was going to unglue from my place of comfort today.
By Thavien Yliaster4 years ago in Fiction
No One Knew His Name or Address
Julian Cable heard the motors buzzing outside his cabin, listened for a second as they got closer, then dove to the floor. He rolled twice until he was pressed up against the living room bookcase. He heard something drop on his doorstep, then what he now understood to be a drone flew away. He waited and heard nothing else. Staying low, he crawled to the long storage chest by the foot of his bed. Without raising his head, he lifted the chest a few inches — just enough to pull his rifle out from the hollowed recess in the floor. He crawled to the back window and, still without raising his head, looked around. A clear line-of-sight showed the back window from the front door. Not ideal, but better than opening the door directly. Gathering himself, he reached up, slid the window open, and slipped over the sill, landing as quietly as he could on the dirt outside. Looking in all directions, he walked slowly around the back and side of the cabin.
By Richard Buck4 years ago in Fiction
A Strange Mysterious Package, Indeed!
You’re a thirty-three-year-old woman named Breanne, still living in the home you grew up in. Not in a cute hallmark way. But in a way that says, ‘I went to university, and it took me six years to graduate because I couldn’t decide on a major, and now I make $50k working as a graphic designer and can’t afford to live on my own in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) or pay back my student loans.’
By Kendra Marya4 years ago in Fiction
The Special Package-Part 2
Winter is getting closer to the season. I cannot believe this is happening. Ok, this is getting even more weird in a good way. It has been going on every day, every week, and every month. Here's an example. It was several months ago, in the summer, when Izumi and her girlfriend, Helen, had some exams during summer school. On that day, Izumi and Helen had a mysterious box from Ran. It was just the special self-care package. I can tell how exams and other issues from school can still be stressful, even in college. Both Ran and Izumi are Mio’s sisters.
By Meghan LeVaughn 4 years ago in Fiction
Twin Box
From the Personal Journal and Factual Record of Events of and involving Stanly H. McGee Jr. 1 – Too Late The doorbell rang but I did not hear it. I was too busy trying to find my keys. I was late. Not just a little late, but truly and terribly late. It was my first day at a new job and I was going to late. I felt like this was one of those things that happened in story, maybe some sort of sitcom, except this was not funny, not funny at all. If this were a sitcom, then some hilarious hijinks would ensue but, in the end, it would all work out. I would even walk away with a new love interest, a friendship that would be cultivated into something deeper over an excruciatingly long time. Like two or three seasons at least.
By Floyd Doolittle4 years ago in Fiction
Talk to the Wind
Since the beginning of time, stories have been told about people possessing the ability to interpret messages carried on the wind. Today, meteorologists might appear to fall into that category, but their skills are limited to reading wind direction and speed; the wind does not speak to them. The wind speaks to Danny Shu.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Do you wanna play a game?
Tik, Tik, Tik The hands on the old fashioned clock moved slowly. Ambrose sat in the dark in the living room with the television on, but he was not paying attention to the sports highlights that filled the airwaves. Instead he stared off into the distance.
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)4 years ago in Fiction
