Fantasy
Lineage Locket Ties
My mother was the most loving person I knew. She always remained calm and poised in every situation I ever saw her in; wether it be good or bad. All I could think to myself, as i sat there at my moms funeral was that it wasnt fair. Though when does the universe ever tend to be fair. My mother was the last person I had. I rolled my eyes at all the eulogy's of the people who claimed to have cared about her, but in reality my mom never really had friends. I felt bad for thinking she was weird and embarrassing growing up. She was the hippie type. Crystals, tarot cards, and what not. Her and the family dog were inseparable, and their favorite spot was a place under the willow tree that we had in our front yard. I say it was a family dog, but it was only ever really her dog. She named it Todo, because she loved the movie "The wizard of Oz" as a little girl. My mom was the only person I could ever really count on. She taught me how to use safety scissors and zip up my jacket. I knew nothing of my father and she never spoke of him. I zoned out during the last couple of eulogy's and reminiced on memories I had of her. Most of which were spent as I did my homework and admired her through the kitchen window. My mom spent most of her days under that willow tree, which usually consisted of dancing or reading. Every now and then I noticed she would tap the heart shaped locket on her neck with her index finger. I never thought anything of it.
angelica leslyPublished 3 years ago in FictionIsolation
There were dark spots in her vision, and her head was pounding. She turned her head to the side, squinting in hopes it would allow her to see something, anything.
Janiyah ConnorPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Last Reset
Other Looters forgot about old fast food restaurants, but Hilda always checked them. They’d had the best plumbing old money could buy. Hilda hated the competitiveness of larger hauls. Her racing days were long past. Smaller opportunities in the ground-level businesses were a more relaxed drag, a consistent payload each Reset. The only downside were longer days between the skyscrapers.
Dreaming As We Float
Call me egocentric, but you dream of me too–don't you? The actress that I am, demanding to be on every stage, even in your slumber. They say children grow to want everything they lacked in their sandbox days. The poor become workaholics or gambling addicts–counting pennies until their fingertips smell of copper. The tight-leashed become adrenaline seekers–swimming with great whites and inhaling the same color. And then there are people like me. The actors, the singers, the comedians, the performers. The children who grew to be spotlight hungry–craving the applause, the recognition, the attention.
I'm Coming Home
“Kisses!” Melony exclaims as she reaches out for her husband. They are both in the whirlwind of their morning routine, except this morning would be starting and ending way outside of their norm. She would often slap 5 or 6 kisses on Carters' face before finally making it out the door.
Penny Bae BridgesPublished 3 years ago in FictionSingularity of evolution
They call me Ghost. Time is an expendable Luxury, we never have enough yet we never run out. Since the world started to download our personal histories and current events to prevent the loss of all civilization we as a whole have learned to lean more on the easy to feel feelings. Stuff like guilt and shame, allow us to function in a more singular capacity where our needs are very low maintenance.
Michael FlowersPublished 3 years ago in FictionMy Only Mission
Journal Entry 1..... The beginning Okay so I've never journaled before so I'm not really sure how to start this entry but basically the world has ended and I am starting to panic because while the rest of humanity was wiped out and sent back to high heaven like the dinosaurs, I was shocked looking for some way to survive and by the grace of god I was spared along with only about a few thousand other people.
kathryn dunyonPublished 3 years ago in FictionFuture Unknown
Trash littered the streets of New San Francisco while people were trudging amongst each other attempting to make a day’s living selling scraps and possibly stolen items. Ida kept to herself as she snuggled deeper in her heavy cloak, hood drawn and looking down. Even if she looked up, the hood was so deep and dark it would be hard to see her face except for her curly, brown hair.
Laurel LujanPublished 3 years ago in FictionTuolumne Meadows
TUOLUMNE MEADOWS I handled my customary morning ritual, letting Pharah out and using the restroom myself. The doorbell sounded. I left Pharah outside and answered the door. At first glance, he was wearing a uniform and I thought he was a police officer. At a second glance, I can see that he represented an agency like animal control. Where I was currently living, it was not really a city, but a type of territory, a part of the county mostly. “Ma’am, do you own a pit bull terrier that was involved in a confrontation recently with a neighbor’s dog?” The man said with a cocky air, his leg hiked up one stair, and his hand firmly gripping the porch railing with some sort of heart-shaped locket dangling from his neck. I felt my throat lock and the courage that I had mustered to get out of bed this morning was now being crushed by the wish to escape this conversation. “Yes,” I replied, "what can I do for you?” I am here about the complaint that your animal attacked a dog and I want to be sure that this said animal is currently in your control. I also want to let you know that your animal will need to be either surrendered or you must apply for a Potentially Dangerous Animal (PDA) permit in order to keep her.” I just stood there dumbfoundedly unsure as to whether I should thank him. Why would I want to thank him for such bad news? Instead, my reply was that I understood. “Any questions ma’am?” Without looking back I answered, “no, no questions.” I quickly entered the house, closed and locked the door.
Submissive Evil
The tension broke me from my sleep. The feeling of their eyes- all of their eyes- made my skin crawl. I shot up, my eyes widening as the little creatures flew back from me as quickly as they could. Each of them has a little grey body with four arms, five dark black eyes, and a pair of short legs. Their arms and legs end in three stubby fingers. They screeched when my wings spread out behind me and pulled me out from under them, my back slammed against a wooden wall, shaking the contents of the small cabin.
J. L. CrossPublished 3 years ago in FictionSubmissive Evil
I remembered all that happened, some of it, the worst of it. I pulled myself into the fetal position; my bones cracking and snapping back into the position they were intended to be in while my screams echoed through the green sun covered forest. My breathing was heavy, rapid, and painful. I could feel the fast rush of air into my lung and the pain that followed as the expansion guaranteed me further moments of life. I could hardly understand why something so awful could happen, but life could prevail. It was a sick and twisted joke.
J. L. CrossPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Fall of Andrekka: Harper's Story
HARPER LED THE GIANT MISTGLIDER BY HIS REINS. “Mist protection! Get your mist protection here!” She screamed up and down the street. People were sitting on the stoops of their homes. Merchants set up pop-up shops selling fruits, pots, and jewelry. Harper held her palm flat as a visor above her eyes. She was judging the time by the sun. “You smell anything yet, Spit-tuk?” She asked her animal companion. “There’s gotta be a mist coming soon,” she said to herself. “Get your mist protection here!”
Nathan CharlesPublished 3 years ago in Fiction