Microfiction
The Commander, The Chief, and The Saviour
"Honestly, if brains were dynamite, I'd blow my foot off. Deliberately. With aplomb, dignity and blood draining from shrapnel-shaped holes. It's been an easy campaign run. Lots of rallies and salutes, though they know I've never served a damn day of my life. They were joyful. The love of this country. The sound of screams, shouts, and the sight of tears and smiles. People adorned in the brightest and boldest red.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
I Approve this Message
As he prepared to shoot another commercial for his campaign, Cardwell Dugger kept his mind focused on the various ways he could improve the state. Delaware needed a leader, not a nanny. It needed a governor who could basically have “hands off” policies.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Bipartisan
They thought it could never be done. As the nation eyed the election results, the two candidates walked out and held hands. Stunned, the journalists covering the election dropped their jaws. America and the world made a collective gasp. One man laughed. A woman wept.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
The Indian Chief
There was an old Indian chief that always seemed to be sitting on an old park bench located way into the park where only a few go. The path is mainly for bikers and walkers who want to forget they are in the city. One afternoon this walker decided to go up to the chief and ask him why he comes here. The Indian chief stated "This is where my tribe first settled. I come here to think and visit and wait." It is a beautiful area for there are wildflowers and plenty of trees. Finally, the chief will rest.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Fiction
The Cowboy
There was this old-style cowboy living down the road just a smidge. When I would go walking by his farm that had a few horses and a few other animals he would always offer me a ride on his horse. This old cowpoke would tell stories that would make you wonder if it was true or not. He once said that he rode for the Pony Express right before the it ended and became a part of mail delivery history. This old cowboy could share a yarn with the best of them; now I wish he would've written them down.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Fiction
A Wake-Up Call in Purple
The sun stood at a sharp angle, glaring into his car. It was morning, and Dennis was on his way to work. It was the same every morning, and he could just manage to stop by the Café on the Square for a cup of coffee and a croissant. His usual breakfast. It was easy and convenient for someone alone.
By Henrik Hageland2 years ago in Fiction
New information has come to light...
Bethan I've had a text from Dave! Weird. He wants to meet. I'm "working" from home because, well, I couldn't think before meeting with Luke tonight, knew I'd get nothing done. I'm going through what he might tell me in my head and my focus is skewed. Nothing else seems relevant.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
