Humor
Lions Head In The Well . Top Story - December 2024.
The forest of voices Pinny folded her skirt and climbed over the toppled tree. The green lichen dusted her hand, she brought her palms together and brushed them off. Along the ground of the lost forest, next to her feet and to the side, was a line of winterstone flies carrying dried leaves above their little bodies. Not wanting to step on them under the weight of her feet, she kept in the middle and walked ahead.
By Caitlin Charlton2 years ago in Fiction
The Unlikely Rise of Chijioke
Chijioke Nwachukwu wasn’t that Chijioke Nwachukwu. This Chijioke was a 34-year-old man-child who still lived with his parents in their cramped suburban home in Lagos, working part-time at a tech store in the "What’s New in Tech" section. He was, in fact, the least likely candidate to become a tech guru. But he had one thing going for him: an unbelievable belief in his own potential.
By Winner Precious2 years ago in Fiction
Imagining World War Three
Kyle Emery was a typical fourteen year old boy except for the fact that he had an over-active imagination. He lived in an older Victorian style home in the middle of Nebraska. The home came with a fallout shelter buried in the back yard. A remnant of the 1960’s cold war era.
By Scott A. Gese2 years ago in Fiction
Unraveled
It was a beautiful day. The thin cirrus clouds were draped across the deep blue sky like lazy feathers, and a warm breeze tickled the leaves on the old tree outside her window. Patricia was in the laundry room folding her clothes when the old dog sounded the alarm that there was an intruder. She went out to the living room and saw the familiar blue of the Amazon van with the smile through the window. The driver had already left the package on her doorstep so she went out and brought it in, wondering what she’d ordered this time. The box was light and when she ripped it open, there was the prettiest blue yarn and the shiny new knitting needles she’d ordered on a whim. As if she didn’t have enough stuff going on with work and school, and taking care of her property, she had decided to learn to knit and make her friend Samuel a sweater. Gifts were always a hard thing with him, and she figured a hand knit sweater would be fun to make as a bonus, because it would be practical. Samuel is a practical kind of guy, which is totally relatable for Patricia, because she silently sighs every time someone gives her a knickknack, a.k.a. “dust collector“.
By Colleen Walters2 years ago in Fiction
Chronicles from the Heart of The Metropolis: Butterfly District
As the clock chimed noon, a breathtaking spectacle unfolded: butterflies, not merely in the millions or billions, but in a number so vast it defied comprehension. Those on the street were overwhelmed, their minds grappling with the impossibility of counting such a crowd. When I say everyone, I mean every single person - no calamity, no raging fire, nor any act of violence could ever summon forth such a crowd from their cars, homes, subways, cafes, hotels, shops, banks, hospitals, schools, government buildings, and offices. It was a moment unlike any other, where an inexplicable, joyous urge compelled each individual to step into the light of day, to embrace the wonder of existence. The air buzzed with excitement as if the very essence of life had conspired to draw them all together in a celebration of beauty and freedom.
By Safia Adil2 years ago in Fiction
