Holiday

How Many Waves Reach the Shore in a Day
How Many Waves Reach the Shore in a Day I once wondered how many waves reach the shore in a single day. It wasn’t a scientific question. I wasn’t standing there with a notebook or a stopwatch. I was just watching the sea do what it has always done, arriving and leaving, arriving and leaving, without hesitation or memory. After a while the mind starts to wander, and it landed on that thought. How many times does this happen while we are busy elsewhere.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 9 months ago in Fiction
When the Lantern Came Back On
When the Lanterns Came Back On The train station in Hangzhou smelled like metal, steamed buns, and winter coats that had not seen the sun in weeks. Li Wen stood near Platform Six, her phone cold in her hand, watching families spill out of the arrivals gate. Red suitcases. Red scarves. Red envelopes already peeking from pockets. It was two days before Chinese New Year, and everyone seemed to be going somewhere they belonged.
By Zidane9 months ago in Fiction
Pastel Nightmare
The Johnsons were the quintessential suburban family. Laura, her husband Mark, and their two kids, Ellie and Ben, loved going all out for the holidays. Easter was no exception. Pastel-colored eggs, garlands, and bunny decorations adorned their home every year, but this time, Laura wanted to make it extra special.
By V-Ink Stories9 months ago in Fiction
The Burrow
The Thompsons had planned their Easter weekend months in advance. A family camping trip seemed like the perfect escape from the monotony of suburbia, a chance to bond over s’mores and nature hikes. The secluded Maplewood Campground, nestled deep in the woods, promised tranquility and picturesque views. They had no idea what awaited them beneath the ground.
By V-Ink Stories9 months ago in Fiction
The Ghost on the Map: My 2,000-Mile Journey to a Paris That Isn’t There
If you type "Paris" into Google Maps, the algorithm will dutifully drop a pin on the City of Light. It will show you the winding Seine, the star-shaped sprawl of the Place de l’Étoile, and enough crêperies to feed a small army.
By George Evan9 months ago in Fiction
Eyes. Honorable Mention in Rituals of Affection Challenge.
I was seven years old the first time I got married. I remember the weight of the dress before I remember my own name. It was heavy and white and warm, like it had been waiting for me longer than I had been alive. The fabric pressed against my shoulders with a seriousness I did not yet understand. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers I couldn’t name, their scent thick and unfamiliar; and the walls seemed older than the building that held them as if the space itself had been borrowed for the occasion. There were people there. I remember that much. Their voices softened as I entered, the way voices do when something inevitable is about to happen. No one smiled too widely. No one whispered. They all seemed like a blurry memory; a background character of my story. I am even unsure of the season but I do know I wanted to hold onto the feeling and the intensity of the dream; and take it with me but I couldn’t remember everything once I woke up.
By Cadma9 months ago in Fiction
In the Dark
Icy blue eyes stared at me through the darkness. The fact that I could see these eyes so clearly in the darkness sent shockwaves up my eleven-year-old spine. I had just woken up from a rather intense nightmare, incidentally about some creep that was watching me at the foot of my bed. ‘’I can see you,’’ I whispered.
By DJ Robbins9 months ago in Fiction
Fighting the Ice Vampire: Adventures of Samurai Santa
Directions for Learning to Unlearn and Navigating in coldest weather of hell> > > Remember these words> > . . . .looking through the eye of the heart. . . . . while visiting nihongo or Japan to give gifts to children during christmas, santa falls from the chimney of a house of samurai, hearing santa scream to the fangs of an easter vampire bunny of terror . . . . . . the famous words . . .
By SAMURAI SAM: Wild Wayne9 months ago in Fiction
Hops
The Easter Bunny hopped down the bunny trail. He went from house to house leaving an Easter basket and a stuffed toy at each home. He came to a house unlike the rest. A storm cloud hung over her house. She lived in a purple house and there were all kinds of moans coming from inside the house. They were no doubt the tormented sounds of ghosts dwelling inside. Hops, the Easter Bunny trembled as he looked up at the creepy house. He knew a witch lived there and he knew it was haunted.
By DJ Robbins9 months ago in Fiction
The Hollow Hunt
Every year, the small town of Willowcreek hosted its beloved Easter egg hunt in the sprawling meadow near the woods. Families would gather, baskets in hand, to search for the brightly colored eggs hidden among the grass and trees. It was a cherished tradition, a wholesome event that brought the community together. But this year, something was different.
By V-Ink Stories9 months ago in Fiction
A Bright Ribbon in Darker Times
A flower in a pot, a card and Heroes sweets in Morrisons brown paper bag warm the spot behind the door. I pick them all up, stunned, after reading his message, “I dropped a little something on the doorstep for you.” We are not lovers, not even friends.
By Sun Bee9 months ago in Fiction
Halloween. Content Warning.
What was the ancient evil that infected Corey Cunningham and caused him to go psycho? It was an ancient demon known as Belial. It was the thing known as The Shape. Michael was The Shape. That was what everyone thought. Michael was the shape to Haddonfield. Belial was Michael’s Shape. He was the entity that showed himself to Michael when Karen interrupted him. It was the silent alarm waiting to trigger Michael.
By DJ Robbins9 months ago in Fiction