Script
Wrong Identity
They found a narrow, sheltered cove where the cliffs leaned inward, creating a natural amphitheater of jagged stone. It wasn't a fortress, but it offered a temporary reprieve from the wind. As they huddled together, the silence was punctuated only by the rhythmic, wet rattle of Julian's breath. Curtis knelt beside the older man, his own hands shaking. He noticed a small, jagged piece of matte-black alloy clinging to his forearm—a shard of the cleaner he had dragged under. He peeled it away slowly, the metal cold and dead, a fragment of a world he was desperately trying to leave behind.
By Forest Green18 days ago in Fiction
Wrong Identity
Curtis didn't blink. The "Jake" side of his consciousness was screaming, terrified by the cold void where his emotions used to be, but the "Curtis" side was simply calculating the distance between himself and the exit. He could see the structural weaknesses of the lighthouse—the salt-eroded mortar, the leaning angle of the spiral stairs. He could see the way Elias's synthetic skin twitched a millisecond before he moved.
By Forest Green19 days ago in Fiction
Wrong Identity
He didn't knock. The iron door yielded with a heavy, pneumatic hiss, sliding open to reveal a foyer that smelled of cold stone and ancient wax. And there, exactly where the ledger had warned him, stood the mirror. It was a towering thing, the gilded frame carved into the shapes of weeping willows and eyeless fish. As Jake stepped past it, he felt a violent surge of vertigo. He didn't look—he couldn't—but the periphery of his vision caught a glimpse of the glass. The reflection wasn't delayed; it was accelerated. He saw himself walking toward the door before he had even taken the step, a ghost of a second leaping ahead of his own body.
By Forest Green19 days ago in Fiction
Pernicious With A Purpose
“Olawdry, are you coming to bed yet?” Mairlz called from the bedroom. Olawdry was staring at himself in the mirror pulling down the bags underneath his red eyes. “Yes, sweetie. I’m coming.” He responded tiresome. He hit the light switch, shut the door behind him, and walked over to his side of bed where he could see the moonlight outside the window.
By Devond Devoe21 days ago in Fiction
A Breeze I Wish To Forget
The pictures upheld itself to Natajra’s standard as the driver cruises through the city. The skies were pretty, it wasn’t too hot or too cold outside, and the garden and palms trees were absolutely beautiful. Natajra pinched herself wondering if she was in heaven. “Ouch!” She whispered to herself as she rubs the tiny pain away.
By Devond Devoe22 days ago in Fiction
Rumpel Stiltskin?
Introduction Vocal used to have a minimum number of words for most articles and the way to get round this is to submit the piece as a poem so you could get away with less than thirty words, and as I am using chat fiction it could be seen as a form of prose poetry, but I think with this long introduction and my actual story, the whole piece should pass the six hundred word minimum, It is a challenge but Tom Hardy did a whole film, "Locke" based on mobile phone texts so I should be able to breeze past this.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Fiction
