Love
Stuck In An Island
The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the vast expanse of the ocean. Olivia and Jack found themselves marooned on an uninhabited island, their small boat shattered against the unforgiving rocks during a violent storm. As the waves receded, leaving them stranded on the sandy shore, the reality of their situation sank in.
By Joseph Mwangi3 years ago in Fiction
Thrift Store Plaid
There’s Jesus-music in the air, praise to the same four chords recycling the same eighty half-rhymes about grace and peace and unquantifiable love. They sing about that like it means something, but love never was quantifiable. Art that points out that the sky is blue is neither interesting nor innovative, but it plays on Christian radio, so that has to be worth something. It presides over the air crisp with dime-store detergents and stale perfumes.
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 years ago in Fiction
Lives of Unliving Things
A careless hand tosses you in with the other toys; to it, you are but one thing out of many it cannot bear to see in the bedroom now-childless. You watch paralyzed as the corners of the cardboard box fold in on each other, reduce the lovely lamplight to a faint sliver. You’re entombed there, alongside little plastic army men and the thick books Best Friend would sound aloud to you and Mom. The thinner books are in another box; Best Friend would whisper them quietly to you by flashlight some nights, before gripping you to his chest and falling gently asleep. You’d sleep, too, sometimes, as well as a sleepless thing could sleep.
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 years ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 4
In a very different part of the land, far from where the fairies, totters, fireflies, and hummingbirds lived, there lived a mob of meerbirds. The meerbirds were similar to meerkats, which are found in other worlds. However, they possessed beautiful, white wings. A mob of meerbirds sat in a circle around the campfire somberly. The firelight flickered on their black, beady, calm eyes. Their wings were all tucked carefully behind them out of reverence. Even the youngest of the meerbirds sat with their parents, both unusually quiet, and attentive. Keenwai stood up, while clearing his throat. His muscles felt a bit tense, but it was because he didn’t like speaking in front of crowds. He began to speak what he had been rehearsing in his mind all day since they had buried his sickly father that morning.
By Rowan Finley 3 years ago in Fiction
Decrescendo . Top Story - February 2024.
I'm wearing the hand-me-down leggings of a girl who got cancer and lived. Fraying and soaked at the kneecaps. I crouch by snow-sunken tires - pawing our car deeper into the hillside with ungloved hands. Futile, numb effort.
By Erin Latham Shea3 years ago in Fiction
Misplaced Earrings
Earrings so gold and black. Like icicle spikes that dangles from a ball so small. A black eye silhouetted with golden liners and yet, it sits in the center of the earring where the spikes lay. These pair of 2’s that wears on both ears, is made to staple a show we’ve experienced, and played. A gift of some sort from someone so dear. A high school friend who’ve parted and now entered revered. These earrings have yet to arrive. Soon it will be exchanged, soon it will be renamed.
By The Kind Quill3 years ago in Fiction
Dim light
The city of dim light, the gate of time, Magic, Dragon, prophecy, adventure, courage, friendship, love, sacrifice, faith, hope.In a quiet village called "Eye of the sun" surrounded by majestic mountains, there lived an intelligent and curious girl named "Leila". Leila was famous for her love of exploring and wandering in the forest next to the village, where she would spend many hours looking for new adventures.
By Samir hosny3 years ago in Fiction
La neige à Paris
The streets of Paris are almost deserted. It is almost 10pm on a weeknight in January, the slowest month of the year. There is a stillness to the streets that is surprising compared to the commotion and bustle of London, where we’ve just taken a train from. I stare out the window, perched on a wooden stool in a cleverly hidden cocktail bar, half-listening to the bartender give my Boyfriend recommendations for modern French cuisine. Every so often a person passes by, bundled up and hunched over from the cold. I turn to my drink, belly warm from the alcohol, and sip slowly. As I lower my glass, my eyes widen.
By Marti Maley3 years ago in Fiction
