Microfiction
Dork Drabble #14
Dork Drabble #14 and the question is 'If your life were a classic fairy tale which one would it be and why? For this one I am not really sure, but at times I think maybe 'Rumpleskiliton' or maybe 'The Three Bears' or maybe not a fairy tale but a nursery rhyme "Where has my little dog gone" (Do not remember this title). My other idea that my life could be 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff' for the troll under the bridge is the one keeping me from completing what I need to do for each day in some way.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
Dork Drabble #13
For Dork Drabble #13 the question is for February 15 is 'Your school is putting on a play! Would you rather be the star of the show, the director, or the costume designer? Actually, out of these three I would be the costume designer, but I would prefer to be on the crew for set design. Being part of the artistic portion of the play that does not require acting and lines to memorize. Costume or set designer is a very creative and on opening night you can relax till time to change the scenery and hoping nothing falls down.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
Dork Drabble #12
Dork drabble #12 the question is 'Tomorrow February 13 make a list of family and friends you'd like to give a card to on Valentine's Day? Actually, one would also want to include many certain family members that may not be around anymore. The people that I would like to give cards to would be my mom, dad and older brother even they are gone to a better place. There are a few cousins I would send a card to as well. Technically I would probably make a homemade type of card to send to all of them that day.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Brave Cub Who Walked Into the Storm
art of the African savanna, where golden grass whispers stories of survival and legacy, a lion cub named Leo was born. But unlike his siblings, who roared with instinct and leapt with promise, Leo was different. He was smaller. Quieter. Often overlooked. While the others played fiercely beneath the tall acacia trees, Leo watched from a distance—his eyes not on the games, but on the horizon. His paws were too small to race, his roar too soft to intimidate, and his legs trembled in the company of boldness. Yet there was something else inside him. A spark that didn’t show on the surface. A curiosity. A question. “Why don’t you join them?” his mother would ask gently, her golden eyes filled with worry. Leo would lift his head, ever so slightly. “Because I want to learn,” he would whisper. “I want to see the world before I try to conquer it.” Others in the jungle didn’t understand. They dismissed him. “Too small to matter,” scoffed the zebras. “Too quiet to be brave,” mocked the monkeys from their high, swinging homes. But Leo didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Somewhere deep inside him, a voice far older than his own murmured: “Your time will come. And when it does, the world will know.” he Storm That Changed Everything It came without warning. The sky, once a blue canvas, darkened into a violent grey. Thunder cracked through the heavens, and the jungle trembled. The rain poured like arrows from the clouds, and the wind howled like forgotten spirits. Leo’s family, like many others, found refuge in a rocky cave near the cliffs. They huddled close, seeking warmth and safety as the world outside unravelled. Then came the sound that pierced the storm. A cry. Fragile and distant. Milo. The baby elephant from the neighboring herd. Lost. Alone. The lion king, Leo’s father, growled with authority. “No one moves. The storm is not kind to wanderers.” But Leo couldn’t sit still. His ears twitched at the sound. His heart raced—not with fear, but with purpose. “He’s out there,” Leo said, more to himself than anyone else. “He’s afraid.” “You’re just a cub,” his father barked. “Don’t be foolish.” But Leo had already stepped forward. His mother tried to stop him. But courage moves faster than doubt. And sometimes, a lion’s heart knows exactly when to roar—even if no one else can hear it.
By Arshad khanabout a year ago in Fiction
That Little Twerp
I've no reason to suspect the guy, really. I say, "guy", I mean anorak-touting dullard. The lengths he'd have had to go to, to get his hands on my suitcase. Even just to be in the baggage claim at the same time as me! No, it's bonkers. But... he's just so weird. The contents of the case don't feel real. They feel contrived. Like a prank. Someone trying too hard to be strange. The more I think about this, the more my brain itches, and the more his pale, gawky face floats around in it.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Page
The old bookstore on Maple Street was a relic, its faded sign barely legible under years of dust and weather. Clara, a 32-year-old librarian with a penchant for dog-eared paperbacks, had been coming here since she was a kid. The smell of aged paper and leather bindings was her sanctuary, a place where time seemed to pause. But today, something felt different.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
Squid Game final season review – an ending so WTF it entirely beggars belief
After a wild new player is forced to join the game without consent, the action gets even more operatic and bloodthirsty. But if you can get on board with the twists – and that’s a big if – you will not believe what happens in the last minute
By SHYAKA MARSabout a year ago in Fiction
