Love
Unexpected Connections. Content Warning.
Micaela and I had been together for what felt like a lifetime. We’d fallen in love one sun-drenched summer when we were twenty, our connection as natural as the turning of the tides. I had always been faithful to her, and I believed she was the same not out of obligation, but out of a deep, mutual respect.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Counter and the Coal
Not even otherworldly reindeer who fly are undying, and Dasher and Artist and Prancer and Lady, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen were stories of Christmas mornings that had since a long time ago happen. Rudolph himself lived seventeen years: a good life expectancy for the typical hostage reindeer. In no way, shape or form a supernatural occurrence. Except if such a reindeer was among the fortunate not many to be housed in that frame of mind of a certain, southern toy shop. These reindeer would in general be more limited lived than most. Each Christmas a couple of St Nick's reindeer would miss the mark concerning the necessities expected to zoom all over the planet. This was not an incredible cumbrance to the actual mission. St Nick's brain was however sharp as his tummy seemed to be round, and he realize that the reindeer who couldn't last the excursion would be dead or near it once they arrived at Russia's nose, which seems to be that of an elephant seal. Then it would be set for The Frozen North. St Nick's sled, short a few reindeer, would fly across the Bering Ocean as leisurely as the petrels. Men on modern fishing boats would look into, point, and shout. Then they'd joke that Christmas would require an augmentation. It won't ever do. In the inside of Gold country, there carried on with a man of gigantic cash and very little riches, and individuals who realized him had named him the Counter. The Counter resided in a frail shack, where he slumped in his work area before the hearth, endlessly counting the cash he'd made off his reindeer the earlier years. 43 years, to be careful. At the point when the fire consumed low in order to make this cycle troublesome, he would get a piece of wood, throw it into the hearth, and his unending count, until he'd come to accept that the actual cash was the wellspring of his glow. Yet, until he could stand to purchase such a reality, somebody actually needed to slash the kindling. This somebody was a little fellow, an offspring of the clans who, a long time back, had been purchased with the Counter's cash. Or on the other hand rather, the dangers that would in general go with it, as certain as the obliteration that goes with a fire. The Counter enlightened him nothing regarding his legacy, other than the account of how his kin consumed the cash that had sold his actual life. They threw the rolled up bills — precisely 25 bucks — into the flares that cooked their meat. The kid got the feeling that his lord thought them fools for this. He, at the end of the day, didn't.
By Parmesh Patil2 years ago in Fiction
Violet Eyes
The neon glow of Neo-Avalon, a sprawling metropolis where humans and their near-perfect creations, the Synths, coexisted in a tense, often uneasy balance, painted the rain-slicked streets in hues of electric blue and toxic green. Rain dripped from the brim of Dameian Blackwood’s fedora, mirroring the relentless drip of time on his soul.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
The Future Is Moneyless and Unmarried
The future is a mysterious concept and is often associated with dreams and nostalgia for each person. However, when imagining a future without money and without marriage, this makes many people feel insecure. So what would my future be like without these factors? This article will analyze different aspects of life in that scenario, and at the same time look for the light of hope amidst seemingly insurmountable challenges.
By TULY989store2 years ago in Fiction
Love is Dead
Nearly three years had passed since the chasm had opened between them, three years since their once-vibrant connection had withered into a desolate landscape of unspoken words and icy silences. It wasn’t a dramatic event that had shattered their world, but rather a slow, agonizing erosion of trust and affection, a quiet unraveling of the intricate threads that had once bound them together. The weight of unmet expectations and unexpressed resentments had become a heavy burden, a constant ache in the quiet spaces of their home.
By Ismail Zbail2 years ago in Fiction
The Estate
The newlyweds arrived as twilight draped the world in its lingering glow, the sky a bruised palette of amber and deep violet. Amara stepped out of the car, her heels sinking slightly into the gravel, the cool air kissing her exposed shoulders and sending a delightful shiver down her spine. The silk of her blouse, a shade of deep crimson, shifted gently against her skin with each breath, the fabric catching the last rays of the setting sun.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Like Letters Written in the Sand Part Twelve. Top Story - December 2024.
Almost six weeks had passed since her world had been turned upside down, and one month had passed since he had declared his love for her, but her memories of being trapped in that car, or what seemed like an eternity, continued to haunt her. As the truck approached, it was out of control, crushing her car like an accordion, crushing her legs.
By Michelle Renee Kidwell2 years ago in Fiction
The Jumpers
Two separate lives ready to call it quits, until fate intervened. It was a cool Autumn evening. A sudden gust of east wind chilled him as he carefully stepped over the rail. Paying close attention to his footing, he inched his way along the bridges steel girder. The half moon cast an eerie shadow over the water below. He stopped and took a deep breath as he contemplated his next move.
By Scott A. Gese2 years ago in Fiction
Under the Scorching Sun
The village of Bandhnapur, nestled deep in the parched heart of the Northern peninsula, was a place where life moved slowly, bound by the unyielding grip of tradition. Dust clung to every surface, carried by dry winds that whispered secrets from generations past. The fields stretched endlessly, cracked and barren under the merciless sun, while the thatched huts huddled together like battered soldiers braving a storm.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
A Bloody Christmas
Once upon a cold Night. It was the night before Christmas, and all was still in the frosty neighborhood. Snow blanketed the ground, muffling every sound, and Tommy’s house glowed softly with multicolored lights. Inside, eleven-year-old Tommy sat perched on his bed, wrapped in his favorite blanket, peering out the window into the wintery darkness.
By Lynn Myers2 years ago in Fiction
