Microfiction
74 To Kill a Killer
If I could get away with it, I would kill a killer and do everyone a big favor. Of course, it'd be even sweeter if I did this before he were to actually kill someone. (I say "he" because murder, rape, pedophilia, and even whole wars are all about testosterone, right?)
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
Endurance. Top Story - March 2024. Content Warning.
Ryan sat resting his head on the glass, his breath misting and obscuring the fast-flowing hedges outside of the window. He retreated into his world of splayed hair and hot breath while the other kids on the bus shouted and laughed, shoved and teased.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
On the Eve of The Hunt
I wasn't royal blood by their standards, but the King favoured me, I made sure of it. Now, see: the land prospers. Make no mistake: this is under my hand. Not the King's. He does his best, but it's my decisions that have brought us prosperity.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Invisible Door
We had just moved into an old Victorian house, and we were still unpacking when my birthday came around; the occasion was bittersweet as the whole house was preoccupied with chores and unpacking boxes. I'm pretty sure that, with all the chaos, my family forgot it was my birthday. As the middle child of four kids with parents who never stop working, it's easy to be overlooked; Massie left early this morning, stealing the car and leaving, probably to drive three hours to see her boyfriend. Mom and Dad were livid when they woke up this morning to find that one of their cars was missing; they ran out of the house, taking Amy and May, the twins, with them, leaving me in an unfamiliar place. In their haste, they forgot I was still eating breakfast at the kitchen table. When they finally noticed, they just sent me a text saying how sorry they were; I didn't bother to reply, rolling my eyes and placing the phone on the table. And once again, I'm stuck being alone.
By Pamela_Ann953 years ago in Fiction
F.U.J.I.M.O.
I get it. I used your '57 Chevy without permission. But permission is for suckers! Truth be told, I like to think of my balls of steel as rolling thunder--ball-lightning thrown down the alley to the 7-10 split--on that bat out of Hell that is my pteropine stallion. 666 is the speed I drive.
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
The Willow. Top Story - March 2024.
We never spoke to those identified as human. I watched, silently, as many selected my brothers to cull. We watched their amorous youths carve words into our bark. We screamed as fire burned our waists, heating and crackling our sap. We watch as their children gather our fallen branches to make games. We watch as some pick up stone and our seeds to keep. Every now and then, we whisper, making them listen as wind drifts through our leaves and needles, hearing our warnings of the woods.
By Jennisea Standing Rock3 years ago in Fiction
