Excerpt
Reality Tears & Screams
Gideon stared out the massive window in his 49th floor office. All of Chicago sprawled below. One by one the lights from skyscrapers and street-lamps twinkled on in the approaching dusk to compete with the night sky for supremacy. So far, the city was still winning.
Creatures with Wings
The world had truly become a dangerous place. A wise individual would know never to travel through the increasingly scarce lands and seas alone. Even a child foolish enough to set out on their own would be left for dead by their own mother if she herself were wise. However, if someone had the chance to travel by flight, the chances of harm coming to them might as well be null. The skies above the clouds were normally quiet and serene, and a beast daemn like Phoel knew this well.
Quincy KirkpatrickPublished 3 years ago in Fictionmy tears ricochet
They didn’t know her. Not like I did. To them, she was a mystery, hiding behind her cheek-to-cheek smile and approachable demeanour. She was reserved, putting on the mask of an extrovert, letting few people see past the façade. It’s why I found it odd that the chapel was full of classmates who couldn’t care less whilst she was still breathing.
Bradgate
My sister and I sat in a small side room. At least it was curtained to give the impression of an actual room, I think. The doctor was talking seriously, trying even to stop himself diverting the conversation to my sister rather than me.
Blue Butterfly Dreams
A butterfly. Not just any butterfly, though. She has seen this butterfly before. Electric blue, incandescent, intricately patterned wings, and a melodic song. She didn't know butterflies made sounds apart from the flapping of wings. She'd seen other butterflies before but never heard them, definitely not like this. The melody of its song was mesmerizing, it made her want to dance, but she decided to run instead.
Melancholic MamaPublished 3 years ago in FictionHow to Create A Viral Story
The way to create viral story is to create a beautiful story with universal appeal, a story which people can relate to on a global scale. Here is an example of exactly what I am talking about.
Adam EvansonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Busboy part II
Tuesday, 14 April 1981 “Cy, can I tell you something?” Tracy asked as they she slid into a booth across from him at Casa Cancun, a little Mexican restaurant on King Street in Hampton.
L. Lane BaileyPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Busboy part I
Friday, 13 February 1981 It had been a tough shift, an odd one for the opening of the weekend for Cyril Litton. Normally there were two busboys working during the week and three on Friday and Saturday, but the other guys scheduled weren’t there. And one of the bartenders was out, too. That left Cy as the only person bussing tables and he had to deliver ice and restock the bar. And, of course, the wait staff hadn’t bothered to help him out with any “pre-bussing,” getting plates and stuff off the table when patrons were finished. “Friday the Thirteenth, go figure,” he said to himself.
L. Lane BaileyPublished 3 years ago in FictionChapter 1: Footprints
The footprints meandered, but not in a way that suggested staggering frat boys or beachcombers looking for shells. No, these were deeper, carefully chosen, and mixed with half-prints where their creator tested the ground, thought better of it and retracted the step. The path was winding and uneven, but from deliberation, not carefree or drunken wandering.
Amelia Grace NewellPublished 3 years ago in Fiction