Microfiction
sarnies for piglets
“Eww, Mum! Do pigs really eat animal hands and feet?” “The older generation like to boil them for soup stock, but yes, some pigs enjoy frying or roasting them. If you salt and oil the skin before putting them in the oven it goes nice and crispy”
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨2 years ago in Fiction
fox fashion
do bop do bop do bop do pop “Thank you! Thank you all for joining us from the comfort of your home burrows. Due to the latest Ebola outbreak we regret that we cannot host you in person, however, thanks to the wonderful new invention of ‘video vision’ - we can bring all the latest spring fashions straight to you in the safety of your own home!
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨2 years ago in Fiction
A Perfect Evening. Top Story - July 2024.
Somewhere between the food, the drinks (so many!) and hugs from friends, I found peace. Lots of soul searching lately probably helped. I've made my decision. I made the announcement at work last week that I'm leaving to live in Australia. They're all really excited for me. It feels good. Tonight they brought me out for a lovely meal. They gave me a huge card with heartfelt messages, flowers, wine, and gift vouchers. I was touched. They said things like, "We'll have to come and visit!" It's so weird because it sounds so real and so empty at the same time. Real because they believe it as they're saying it, and empty because I know they won't. I went along with it because it made them happy. It made me happy, too. To borrow another sliver of reality for the space of a heartbeat. "Yes, definitely," I say, "I can't wait." My voice sounds so normal. They've gone home now. My Uber is waiting. The driver is nice. He can see I'm struggling with the gifts. He helps me load them into the car. "Nice problem to have," he says. There's something about his tone, so cheery and so sincere. It cuts through this sharply bittersweet moment and the truth spills out. "I'm dying." He does a double-take.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Fortress of Solitude
The cold, imposing walls of Fort Maelstrom rose like ancient monoliths against the grey sky, casting a foreboding shadow over the desolate landscape. Surrounded by barren moors and jagged cliffs, this fortress was not just a prison; it was a tomb for those condemned to its depths.
By John Aluko2 years ago in Fiction
200 — The Character Development of Harry Milks
Malcolm Assuage was Harry Milks. It was Milks' pen name, his alter ego. Harry Milks didn't like the limelight; his nom de plume was the perfect vehicle for a camouflaged fame, a nice income, and the anonymity to womanize.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Anya's Secret Journey: Uncovering the Lost Athenaeum
Anya’s grandmother only took her to that place once· They had to claw their way through the bushes, her grandmother’s gnarled hand pushing aside branches and thorns while her other hand held Anya’s small, soft one· As an adult, Anya wondered how much that journey must have hurt her grandmother· Her swollen knees ached, and her bare feet surely protested every step of the way·
By Nada soliman2 years ago in Fiction
