Humor
Suddenly Screaming My Own Name at Random Intervals During Zoom Meetings
My newfound strategy involves punctuating every Zoom call with unpredictable shrieks of my own name — like a deranged parrot that just discovered its favorite word. At first, my coworkers thought it was a glitch in my microphone settings. One by one, they tried to help: “Is everything okay, Dave?” their eyes bulging with concern. Little did they know that every outburst was meticulously timed to maintain the upper hand. If chaos is power, then I’m practically the emperor of the digital realm.
By Jesse L Shelley13 days ago in Fiction
Pumpkin Spice Hallucination
I noticed the ornament when I was on my twentieth box of Pumpkin Spiced Everything merch. I thought one of the other stockers was screwing with me, honestly. Or one of the packers threw it in a box as a joke, and didn’t have the deal to find an actual home for it, so just tossed it on a shelf to be Somebody Else’s Problem. Can’t blame any of us, really – we’re minimum wage workers, who really gives a shih tzu about proper procedure? You want us to work our butts off, then pay us a living wage. Otherwise, well, a leprechaun Christmas ornament is just going to lay on a shelf.
By Meredith Harmon213 days ago in Fiction
WINTERGLOOM
Christmas lights hung on the porch as most houses did in December—but, it was late August. The thick black wires were tacked gently onto my copper gutters. I didn’t mind the slight intrusion, they went well with the wind chimes and glass bottle suncatchers. Of course, other houses on the block look pristine with their manicured lawns and freshly painted siding, but they were empty shells. Cold, sterile frames made from generic wood and drywall. I was different. I breathed. I felt. I saw. I knew.
By K.H. Obergfoll13 days ago in Fiction
When the Wrong Words Are
The words reached my ears with the prickling of unfortunate recognition and my body tensed instinctively. The heat of a once-in-a-lifetime El Niño had infiltrated every inch Southern California, including my tolerance factory settings. Even though the air conditioning kept our home cool, the sticky weather managed to make itself known regardless.
By Logan Stanislaw15 days ago in Fiction
Stitch:The Alpine Crimson
The biting, sub‑zero wind howling across the Swiss Alps didn’t just freeze the skin; it carved straight into the bone. For miles in every direction, the landscape was a blinding, desolate canvas of white and jagged grey peak. The winter air was so thin it felt like breathing shattered glass, carrying nothing but the lonely roar of the wind and the constant threat of an avalanche.
By Syl De'Vil15 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: Winter Freeze of '96
The regional BMX track outside of Orlando was a chaotic, dust-choked ring of adrenaline and family friction in late October of 1996. The heat was sitting at a sweltering ninety-two degrees, the thick Florida air smelling heavily of fried concessions, melting tire rubber, and copper-rich dirt. Ted sat on a folding lawn chair near the starting gate, a pair of dark aviators hiding his critical gaze as he watched the brackets warm up. Next to him, Lisa was meticulously organizing the cooler, ensuring the sports drinks were perfectly packed in ice.
By Syl De'Vil15 days ago in Fiction
