Microfiction
Three Rooms Down
A deep stirring in my stomach woke me earlier than I had planned. Per usual, my eyes were droopy, and my limbs weren’t feeling all too inclined to function. They clung tightly to my form, refusing to leave my side for but a second, and I stayed curled up in the spiral that I like to sleep in. My mind though, my mind was more alert than it had ever been – morning or night. Something disturbing was afoot, I could feel it in every bone of my body.
By Ajinkya Goyal3 years ago in Fiction
62 Flat Earth Society. Top Story - March 2024.
It turned out the Earth really was flat. All of his data, which he knew to trust unconditionally and whose accuracy was beyond reproach, was tweaked. He had corrected for a decimal place here, a pixel there--Voila! We were so wrong all these years. About so many things. There was a new wind a'blowin'.
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
Realizations in the Slime Rain
Gazing out the window, it was another messy and dreary day. Though the people did their best to extrapolate weather patterns, they were still determining when it would rain. This rain differed from your typical rain, not the kind of rain that falls in your world or mine. This rain comes down in thick spatters that cling to every surface. These globules slip down windows and stick in trees, to rooves, and on walls. They are beholden to the whims of the winds. Eliza watched as one such thick, slobbery globule flowed over her car.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
The Process of Art
Standing before the fresh canvas, he took out his sketchbook and brainstormed. While in art school, he was indebted to the professor’s prompts. Now, faced with the blank canvas stretched before him, he felt as empty and blank as the canvas. Groaning, he pushed and rolled his shoulders. Taking his sketchbook with him, he wandered the college art halls, wondering what prompts lay behind them. But none of those designs spoke to him. He switched from examining color expression and composition to patterns and design. Scruffling his hands through his hair, he felt uninspired. It had already been a couple of weeks since he finished anything noteworthy. How had he composed those pieces?
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Jam. Content Warning.
Introduction This is based on experiences I had driving on the M62 when I worked for Yorkshire Water in Bradford, and lived in Leyland. I always drove, but the journey was quite scary, but the views were great, except when we got hit by heavy snow.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Fiction
True Love
AUTHOR'S NOTE:March 1 and Spring is in the air. Thus, this love story of true love. ______________________ She was the luckiest woman in the world, having her one true love. Her love was so certain, a luxury that even strong loves lack. She was also certain she was loved back.
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
