family

The Last Photograph
She had always loved old photographs. The sepia tones, the faded edges, the glimpses of a bygone era. She collected them from flea markets, antique shops, and online auctions. She framed them and hung them on her walls, creating a collage of strangers’ memories.
By Simon Abilogu3 years ago in Fiction
The Bell in the Yard
The Bell in the Yard D. A. Ratliff They say you can’t go home again. Foolish? Yes, but I was going to try. A reasonable person would look at their life and be thankful for what was good and forgiving about what was not. I never did like reasonable. And I found a lot about my life difficult to forgive. I had a list, and it was about time to deal with the demons in the closet.
By D. A. Ratliff3 years ago in Fiction
Beyond the Fall
The Collapse The world as they knew it had come to an end. A catastrophic event caused the collapse of society, leaving behind only the ruins of what once was. The survivors were few and far between, scattered across the wasteland that was once their home.
By Iqra M3 years ago in Fiction
Lost in time
I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. As I stood up to make my way to the bathroom, I realized it wasn't there. 'huh?' I looked around and noticed that this wasn't my room. My room had bright pink walls since I was five. When did they turn white? Where is my bookshelf, my study table and all my stuff?
By May3 years ago in Fiction
The Curse of the Small Town
The small town of Millfield had always been a quiet and peaceful place, but lately, strange occurrences had been happening with increasing frequency. People reported seeing shadows moving on their own, objects being moved without explanation, and hearing strange whispers in the middle of the night.
By Iqra M3 years ago in Fiction
Life
Life ! The most chaotic mystery that we all experience ... Life allows us to smile, laugh , cry, weep, complain, show gratitude, love, hate , win and fail. Life and the universe is a blessing to those who real value it. People around us suffer with emptiness of life. Millions of people die out of hunger everyday. Life, an enigmatic tapestry woven with countless threads of experiences, emotions, and purpose, holds within it the essence of our existence. It is a ceaseless journey that leads us through trials and triumphs, joys and sorrows, growth and self-discovery. As sentient beings, we navigate the labyrinth of life, seeking understanding, connection, and fulfillment
By Alagu Sruthi Bharathi3 years ago in Fiction
Vengeful Waters
John had always been restless at night. As a child, he would lie awake in his bed, listening to the creaks and groans of the old house, and the whispers of the wind outside. But there was something else that kept him up at night, a pull, a strange, inexplicable draw towards the lake outside.
By E.A Nich3 years ago in Fiction
Event Horizon
Discovery The crew of the Icarus-3 had been on their mission for two years when they discovered the object. They were on a routine check of the ship's external sensors when they noticed an anomaly in the nearby space.
By Iqra M3 years ago in Fiction
The Boat...
**Trigger warning: Contains elements of murder and racism** The year is 1953, the month of August in the deep South in Mississippi.
By Lindsey Altom3 years ago in Fiction
It's the thought that counts.
Miss. Owens had seen a lot throughout her thirty-eight years at the college cafeteria. She was beyond retirement age, but pressed on despite her failing memory.
By Lamar Wiggins3 years ago in Fiction
The Last House
The last house on the hill had always been shrouded in mystery. For as long as anyone could remember, it had stood vacant, its windows boarded up and its doors chained shut. Some whispered that it was cursed, while others speculated that it was haunted by the ghosts of its former inhabitants. As a curious young girl, I had always been fascinated by the abandoned house. I would often stand at the bottom of the hill, gazing up at its dark silhouette against the fading light of the setting sun. I would imagine all sorts of stories about the people who had once lived there and the secrets that lay hidden within its walls. One day, my curiosity got the best of me. I decided that I had to see the inside of the house for myself. Gathering my courage, I made my way up the steep hill and stood before the chained doors of the mysterious house. With a deep breath, I pushed against the heavy doors, and they creaked open with a sound that echoed through the empty halls. Inside, the house was as dark and foreboding as I had imagined. The air was thick with dust and the musty scent of neglect. As I cautiously made my way through the silent rooms, my heart raced with excitement and fear. Suddenly, I heard a noise. It was a faint, muffled sound coming from somewhere deep within the house. My curiosity piqued, I followed the sound, down a long, winding hallway, and through a narrow door. There, in the dim light of a single flickering candle, I saw her. A woman, dressed in tattered clothes, huddled in the corner of a small room. She looked up at me with haunted eyes, and I could see the fear and desperation etched on her face. Without a word, I slowly approached her, my heart heavy with pity and concern. She whispered something incoherent, and I realized that she was speaking in a language that I did not understand. For days, I visited the mysterious woman in the last house on the hill. I brought her food and water, and tried to communicate with her as best I could. Gradually, she began to open up to me, and I learned that she had been trapped in the house for years, unable to escape. Together, we searched the house for a way out, but all the doors and windows were sealed shut. It seemed that we were both doomed to spend eternity in the last house on the hill. Then, one day, we stumbled upon an old, forgotten staircase leading up to the attic. With a sense of hope, we climbed the stairs, and there, in a dusty corner of the attic, we found an old key. With trembling hands, I unlocked the door at the end of the hall, and we stepped out onto the roof of the house. As we gazed out at the sprawling landscape below, we both felt a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Together, we made our way down the hill, hand in hand, and into the light of a new day. The last house on the hill was no longer a place of fear and darkness, but a symbol of hope and new beginnings. In the years that followed, I never forgot the woman I had rescued from the last house on the hill. Though we had gone our separate ways, I knew that our paths would cross again one day. And when they did, I saw that she had been transformed. No longer haunted by the ghosts of her past, she was a woman of strength and resilience, living her life with a sense of purpose and joy. Together, we looked out at the world before us, and knew that anything was possible. For in the darkness of the last house on the hill
By Tejas Arya3 years ago in Fiction
Edible Bodies
I found the rotting body I had buried the week before. It was finally ready for consumption! It all started as a child, my mother taught me the taste of humans was amazing. She’d hire a sitter for me and have me set the traps. I’d catch her and mother would take her to the woods and bury her. We’d dig her up when the rot kicked in and enjoy the meal. Now that I’m a big boy I can do it all on my own. Yummy, yummy salted guts! I also love guts and nuts. Almonds are my favorite!
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction