Microfiction
Morning is for Mourning
"I dunno. Maybe, " I choked down the tears in my eyes, "maybe it would be healthy to mourn it. "I was in that well for so long," I crane my neck to the sky, arching away from the fire I've built. I'm still in so much pain. Honestly I couldn't even believe how much pain I was in, being trapped there.
By Symbollica The'Bat3 years ago in Fiction
The Fire Escape
I occupy an apartment on the second floor of a three-story apartment building, with a convenience store taking up the first floor. My apartment can be gotten into both the traditional way, and through the usually more convenient fire escape, by which I have access to the apartment above me, in which the most beautiful--. Never mind.
By Timothy E Jones3 years ago in Fiction
The Quarterback and the Artist
In the final seconds of the game, she found him. Her red lipstick against alabaster skin made a contrast against his black skin. Her mouth found his. The quarterback and the artist, entwined in an instant embrace would still stun some and shock others. Shutterbugs snapped photos that would blanket websites and physical magazines, further enshrining the moment through all ages.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Dead Snow
The relationship lived and died in winter, born when the sun made the pristine snow glitter like gems flecking a magic white blanket covering Boston in a reverent, heavy silence. I was from New Orleans and had never seen snow. Garrett introduced me to the angels you make, the hot chocolate you spike with Irish whiskey, the icicles hanging from the skeletal trees like stalactites hanging in a cave. You can shoot them with BB guns, sending them crashing silently into the magic snow blanket. I learned to love it all, along with the chapped lip, chattering teeth kisses and finally, the lovemaking under thermal blankets in the meat locker cold apartment.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler3 years ago in Fiction
Snowball Fight
He knew snow would be cold, but not that cold. Tom envisioned snow to be more like the white ice inside the freezer. His first time experiencing winter up north took him by surprise: his breath visible, wet socks, and layers of outerwear became more uncomfortable as the days wore on.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Fiction
A Wild Ride in Wyoming
It was a bright, cold morning and the weather report ensured that the short drive to work would be interesting. Overnight, high winds had pushed deep snow into massive drifts and filled roadside ditches, leaving them indiscernible in the vast expanse of white. Such was the cost of living and working far from “civilization” on the edge of Interstate 80 in Wyoming.
By Dana Crandell3 years ago in Fiction
The Eschatology of Heaven and Heaven and Hell
It didn't matter that one had killed the other. Or why. Or that the killer died at the hands of his dying victim. All that mattered is that they found themselves at bustop. This confused them, for they knew they were dead. A bus pulled up, which read, "Pearly Gates."
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
