Humor
Success at Failure
Often, the hardest pill to swallow, the one that sticks in your throat and causes you to nearly choke, is the one that teaches you the best lesson. That was the case for Ol' Albie, a good friend of my parents when I was growing up. He was a success at everything in life. Had a great job, was considered the best in his field, had an amazing car, beautiful wife and three exceptional kids, one of which was my best friend at the time. My father always claimed that Albie was matchless, special and whatnot. I wasn't so sure and felt he was just talking pish.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
The Frog and the Fish: A Tale of Love
Once upon a time, in the heart of a tranquil pond, there lived a curious frog named Oliver. Oliver was a dreamer, always gazing at the moon's reflection on the water's surface, wondering what lay beyond the reeds and lily pads. His webbed feet yearned for adventure, and his heart craved something more than the usual croaks and splashes.
By Allwyn Roman Waghela2 years ago in Fiction
Phillips & Sanderson
Scott sat in his period three biology class and tapped his pen impatiently on the textbook in front of him. Tap tap tap, tap-tap taap, tap-tap taap. In his mind, he was picturing Darth Vader striding to the command center of the Imperial Death Star while the soundtrack played in time with the pen taps. None of his classmates had any idea of this, of course, and they shot dark looks at his annoying noises. He was oblivious until his friend Mark tossed an eraser in his face.
By Mack D. Ames2 years ago in Fiction
A Picnic Amidst the Hills
We had chosen to have our picnic amidst the hills. Abraham decided to get assistance from Google for directions. It began directing us. I was enjoying the scenery along the road; Abraham was listening to Google Assistant, and the children were listening to music.
By Ainy Abraham2 years ago in Fiction
The Dark Threat. Content Warning.
"And so our quest begins! And what a jolly troupe we are!" Argan's delight was not transmitting to the other two. Baffor was packing his horse and trying to resist the temptation to knock out the annoying little arse. Argan the arse! He smiled satisfyingly to himself at his nickname, which he would keep secret. For now. But if Argan kept on being so fucking cheerful, Baffor might have to do something. For his own sanity. The only thing that would redeem Argan was if he had some good stories for the fireside.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
Gary's Break
"Gary, as a gentle story to break you in, can find something with an animal? A nice story. Of a rescue, or something." Gary listened to his editor and felt a bit disappointed. He wanted to be a gritty hard-nosed news reporter, investigating crime in the sleepy town of Hatford, not finding out about ducklings down drains or cats up trees.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
