Love
Crushed
The corridors of the hospital had never seemed this long, twisting this way and that. When I took the job here almost four years ago I remember nearly getting lost in the first few weeks. Three more corners, two flights of stairs, and I'll be there. I tell myself as my slapping steps echo around the walls. It's strange the way everything seems so quiet today.
By E. W. Lynn2 years ago in Fiction
Bali Dreams: A Slice of Paradise
Okay, buckle up because we're heading to one of the dreamiest spots on the planet: Bali. And let me tell you, this place isn't just a destination – it's a whole vibe, a slice of paradise tucked away in the heart of Indonesia.
By Wisnu Trilung Waluyo Jati2 years ago in Fiction
Sand, Sunsets, and Soulful Moments
Alright, picture this: you're chilling on a sandy beach, waves gently kissing the shore, and the sun starts its lazy drift toward the horizon. Yep, it's sunset o'clock, and let me tell you, it's the best show in town.
By Wisnu Trilung Waluyo Jati2 years ago in Fiction
Golden Moments by The Sea
Picture this: the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore, the salty breeze tousling your hair, and the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon. Yep, you're right in the middle of a sunset on the beach.
By Wisnu Trilung Waluyo Jati2 years ago in Fiction
The Heartmender
My dilapidated workplace had dusty windowpanes, so the sunrise crept faintly in and created lengthy shadows on the aged leather recliner. While everyone else was still asleep at six in the morning, I was already enjoying a normal day as the Heartmender. There was burnt bread on the plate next to a steaming mug of chamomile tea, the remains of breakfast that had been cut short by the first call of the day.
By Richard Weber2 years ago in Fiction
A bit of a tortured soul
Sure thing! Here's a story about a guy named Jake who's a bit of a tortured soul: So, there's this dude, Jake, who's always got this heavy vibe about him. You know, the kind of guy who's always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's got this haunted look in his eyes, like he's seen things most people can't even imagine. See, Jake had a rough childhood. His parents split when he was young, and he ended up bouncing around foster homes. He never really felt like he belonged anywhere, and that left a mark on him. As he grew up, Jake struggled to find his place in the world. He drifted from job to job, never really finding something that lit a fire in him. He had this restlessness, like he was searching for something, but he didn't even know what it was. On the outside, Jake seemed like a regular guy, cracking jokes and hanging out with friends. But deep down, he was wrestling with all these demons from his past. It was like he was carrying this invisible burden that no one else could see. But then, one day, Jake stumbled into this art class. He'd never been into that kind of thing before, but there was something about the colors and the shapes that drew him in. He started painting, pouring all his emotions onto the canvas. And you know what? It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Through his art, Jake found a way to express all the pain and turmoil he'd been holding inside. He started to find some peace, and people started to see a different side of him. Sure, he still had his moments of darkness, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes now. He realized that he didn't have to be defined by his past, that he could create something beautiful out of all the chaos inside him. So, Jake kept painting, and with each stroke of the brush, he chipped away at the walls he'd built around his heart. He was still a bit of a tortured soul, but now he had an outlet for all that pain. And in the end, that made all the difference for him. Hope that story hits the spot for you!
By Moh Amirullah2 years ago in Fiction
A bit of a tortured soul
Sure thing! Here's a story about a guy named Jake who's a bit of a tortured soul: So, there's this dude, Jake, who's always got this heavy vibe about him. You know, the kind of guy who's always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's got this haunted look in his eyes, like he's seen things most people can't even imagine. See, Jake had a rough childhood. His parents split when he was young, and he ended up bouncing around foster homes. He never really felt like he belonged anywhere, and that left a mark on him. As he grew up, Jake struggled to find his place in the world. He drifted from job to job, never really finding something that lit a fire in him. He had this restlessness, like he was searching for something, but he didn't even know what it was. On the outside, Jake seemed like a regular guy, cracking jokes and hanging out with friends. But deep down, he was wrestling with all these demons from his past. It was like he was carrying this invisible burden that no one else could see. But then, one day, Jake stumbled into this art class. He'd never been into that kind of thing before, but there was something about the colors and the shapes that drew him in. He started painting, pouring all his emotions onto the canvas. And you know what? It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Through his art, Jake found a way to express all the pain and turmoil he'd been holding inside. He started to find some peace, and people started to see a different side of him. Sure, he still had his moments of darkness, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes now. He realized that he didn't have to be defined by his past, that he could create something beautiful out of all the chaos inside him. So, Jake kept painting, and with each stroke of the brush, he chipped away at the walls he'd built around his heart. He was still a bit of a tortured soul, but now he had an outlet for all that pain. And in the end, that made all the difference for him. Hope that story hits the spot for you!
By Moh Amirullah2 years ago in Fiction
Starting Line
____________________ You wince, conceding this one race. My first victory in 20 outings against you. I'd celebrate with a victory lap, punching arms overhead with happy fists, dancing my best Rocky Balboa up the crunchy hills like grassy Philly stairs, but I'm too winded.
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Fiction
A Lifetime in a Minute
His name flashes on the giant screen, a photo taken from the granite monument outside the capitol. His widow takes the hand of their 7-year-old daughter, too young to fully comprehend the truth of this moment. They are flanked by uniforms she knew well, crisp and polished, white gloves gently touching her shoulder. Men and women with somber faces, leaders and guest speakers, are up on the dais watching the ceremony. Cameras all around capture this for posterity.
By Barb Dukeman2 years ago in Fiction
