Microfiction
A Bowl & A Prayer
There's one on every corner. All with beards to their belly-buttons. Even the women. Ribs sticking out for miles. It's the feet that catch your eye, mainly because you've got your head down. A cracked and empty bowl between them don't look at that don't look don't look no, it's easier to look at the feet, revolting as they are. Sandals barely held together with dirt. Toenails long and yellow, caked in grime.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
I Couldn't Promise Her a Future, So She Left
She left without taking much, except for the calendar we bought together. It was the first day of the new year. She rolled up the calendar, placed it in her bag, and didn't ask if I wanted to keep a page as a memento. She didn't say "take care" or "goodbye."
By Adam Collins2 years ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Dragon
In the quaint village of Windlewharf, nestled between mossy hills and eternally ticking windmills, lived a peculiar old man named Thaddeus Pinch. He was a clockmaker of no small repute, known not only for mending broken timepieces but for crafting intricate mechanical wonders that seemed almost alive. Birds made of brass sang lullabies at dusk, spiders of silver spun delicate webs in lantern glass, and mice of copper chased crumbs across countertops.
By THE STORY ROOM2 years ago in Fiction







