Microfiction
The Spirit of Revenge
A cool, light breeze of false spring swirled around, invading the senses, sending chills down Yushin’s spine. Small patches of warm light broke through the forest canopy, illuminating the snow with greens and pinks. The forest was anything but still, yet it gave both Yushin and his horse the same dread of a silent forest. His horse moved from side to side, glancing about. Rustling in the trees tightened Yushin’s grip on his horse’s reins. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on what might lie past the leaves. His horse shook its head and neighed nervously, the perfume of the cherry blossoms filling its nostrils.
By Kitty Fermengs7 months ago in Fiction
“Very Dark Times” OF USA
Ray Dalio Warns: The United States May Be Heading Into “Very Dark Times” Billionaire investor Ray Dalio has issued a stark warning: the United States may be heading into “very dark times.” His concerns are not based on short-term politics but on long-term historical patterns that have shaped the rise and fall of global superpowers.
By Wings of Time 7 months ago in Fiction
Gluttony
It came from the stars... Or so we believe. In truth we didn’t see it coming, merely felt its arrival. It had slipped unknown, beneath the notice of everyone. It was as if it had appeared between the grasp of nothing and nowhere; no telescope, no satellite, no daydreaming child- no one knew, until the day of gluttony began. A shadow crept across the moon, writhing and wriggling a silhouette of the oncoming Glutton. Its many bellies jiggled as if in the throes of a voracious laughter, a gyrating mass larger than mountains... Are you listening?” “...” “Blake!” “Wha!? Umm.” “I said, Blake, are you listening to me?” “We'll I...” “Clearly not I see.” Both teacher and student waited in the silent wake that trailed those words. “Well what's even the point?” “Excuse me?” “Whats even the point! I've heard this damned story my entire life.” “Young man, it is the story of our people!” “Our people are dead!” Again, that silence. Deeper now, bottomless, the words having swallowed them both whole. The teacher simply walked over to his student... And hugged him. “They await the promised day.” Blake pushed away ”and how many years will that take? How many decades? Will I even live to see it?” The teacher let him go and moved over to a window in quiet contemplation of his young student’s anger. Through the porthole was the vast expanse of space. Moving listlessly into view was a home that neither of them had ever been to, Earth, perched amongst a sea of stars. The planet was torn between two sharp dividing colours, a vibrant crimson red and a mulled rich green. Pulsing back and forth between one another, a struggle across continents and below oceans “I... I do not know.” “Generations of watchers, awaiting the promised day; hundreds of teachers having grown old and died in these very rooms.” “I had my doubts when I was a student too” “ doubts? I don't have doubts, I have regrets. I regret having to spend every day with you , I regret being stuck in these same 10 rooms , I regret that I'll never see the day our people return from the grave; I regret I was ever born.” “ It is a privilege to be born!” The teacher yelled “it is a privilege that only a few hundred have had in the last 7000 years. That is the gift of being a watcher!” Now Blake turned to the window, eyes seething with hatred. A burning spite deep in his core, not just to his teacher whose duty betrayed the love the two should share as near father and son; but to the two writhing masses on the planet below. The Glutton had taken the world inch by inch leaving barely enough time to react. And the Reclaimer, that green bastard child of humanity, had fought the Glutton to a standstill. But most of all he hated what he was, a Watcher, one tasked with awaiting the promised day, when life could be released back onto the planet Earth... A day that Blake has long ago understood may never come at all. The tension was thick and the air felt thin, neither one apparently wanting to speak next...until “I...” Blake started “I...” The Teacher interrupted. “I'm tired Blake... I think I'll go lie down.” “Oh... I'm... I'm sorry.” “Im sorry too. I'm sorry that you feel burdened to be alive”. With that the Teacher walked back to their room and laid down. Silently he wondered to himself, had all these troubles begun because he had given Blake a name?
By Griffen Helm7 months ago in Fiction
Parting is such sweet and salty sorrow.... Top Story - March 2026.
Dear Wife— At first, I hesitated to go forward with this resolution. But after your recent late-night binges scarfing down bags of chicharrónes—those pork rinds you dip in butter and the god-awful crunch they make, I knew I could no longer reach you.
By Lamar Wiggins7 months ago in Fiction
Cringe Benefits
For Paul and John's 47-Word Challenge: If I had just minded my own business and decided to stay out of the way and not put my two cents in and kept my big nose out of it and stayed in my own lane, I would probably not be too embarrassed to talk about...
By Kendall Defoe 7 months ago in Fiction
