Microfiction
Gastien and the Golden Wine
Gastien held a single grape in his fingers, looking down at it with curiosity. He had never seen anything like it before. It wasn’t dark and purple, nor was it light and green. It looked golden, and almost transparent. Like a glass marble, filled with amber juice.
By Paul Plett2 years ago in Fiction
The Patient Part 1
Trust the doctor. -Michelle Liew ****************************************** Liam tossed and turned in his hospital bed, the medicinal odour of antiseptic burning his nose---and underneath it, something else---sharp. The walls were too white, too---sanitized, as thought they had something to hide.He couldn't remember how he got there.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 years ago in Fiction
Words shape the World
When Words Shaped the World The town of Inkspire was renowned far beyond its borders for one peculiar trait: its people lived and breathed stories. Every cobblestone path, every whisper of the wind, seemed to carry fragments of untold tales, waiting to burst into existence. Writers were more than artists here—they were considered guardians of the very essence of humanity’s connection powerful; it was sacred.
By Saroj Kumar Senapati2 years ago in Fiction
Back When A Dozen Eggs Was A Dime A Dozen
A single woman went to the market. This was back in the days when a dozen eggs was a dime for a dozen. When the woman got home, she opened the carton. To her surprise, there wasn’t eggs in the carton at all but twelve tiny men that were each very different. She laughed with amusement, as she carefully observed them, declaring…
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
Quixotic Life
"Felix, are you up? You don't want to be late." "I'm on my way" Everyday up at 6am. Today walking to the library to volunteer to read to the children. "chirp chirp" A baby bird lay on the sidewalk. "Oh no, okay I'll get you to the veterinary office. Your wing looks hurt." Stopping in to Mr. Chows veterinary practice isn't too far out of the way. It's cold inside and the bird visibly trembles. However, leaving it in the capable hands of the doctor is the right thing. Out the doors, a man sits on the sidewalk. A vagrant. the putrid smell of a rough life. "I know a place where you can get cleaned up and fed". The man, untrustingly looks back. Not seeing a way to refuse, accepts. Small talk is forced and passes uncomfortably until the mission. Mrs. Jamie is inside, ready to welcome all visitors. Farewells are administered before leaving. The warmth of the library hits him as the doors are forced open. The usual silence is disrupted by children coos and chatter. A single chair resides infront of the small group. A children's book lay to the side of the chair on a small side table. Even children's books take a reasonable amount of practice before reading. The pages feel smooth as new unread books feel. The parents quiet the children who become easily captivated by the story. Everything is running like clockwork. The end is finished with a small unassuming bow. Then, off to the pound for a local event to gain awareness and help for animals. The local news, as well as some of the larger publications will be there. Dog barks and cat meows ring in symphony with the birds. As the event gets going, hundreds come to champion the cause. Donations are collected like the hugs, given by the children, families have brought, in search of the pets they hope to adopt. A long day, worth every smile used as pats on the back for every do gooder. Five hours, a minor price to pay. Except for maybe the hunger that now talks through gurgles. The same path is now backtracked home, including an added stop to the sandwich shop. The counter has a jar for the children's hospital. A dollar and two coins are added. An audible clink that warrants a smile from the owner. Smiles, it's own currency. The gate is open to home. Explanations of the days events are retold before finding the seclusion of the bedroom. The calendar on the wall gets one more x added, marking the day done. One more day closer to admissions. "finally that shit is done. It's tiring being a good person. Hope it's enough.", He says to the calendar and mirror it resides next to. A spider drops from the ceiling disrupting the view of the goal. Luckily the pamphlet from the library and pound event are enough combined to roll up and kill the disgusting spider. "How do they even get in? We sprayed this month? Come on!
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
Coma
You wake up from a coma and the first thing you notice is a woman sleeping in a chair. The second thing you see is a lot of get-well cards as well as congratulations cards. You wake up with no memory. You have no idea who the woman is and why there are congrats cards in your room.
By Jeremy White2 years ago in Fiction
