Series
The Wild Moon's Gift
I remember laying in my room as the wind was raging outside. I’d always hated storms because of the loud thunder. The rain was pounding against my window as lightening flashed across the walls. I threw my head under the blanket, covering my ears, and began shaking. Despite knowing it was coming, I still jumped as the thunder roared, seeming like it was just outside my house.
By Michael King4 years ago in Fiction
The Trees Swallow People: Part 13
I don't know if I believe in anything after death. I think there's something, like a god or something, but not in the “God” sense. I can imagine people going to Heaven, but never myself. I don't think I don't deserve it, I just can't see myself in Heaven, no more than I can see myself in space; I can visualise it, but I'm left wondering where the punch-line is . Thanatophobia; that's what I have. I'm not going to Hell and that scares me. I know it must seem strange; there are trees driving people mad, killing them, driving them to suicide, yet I can't bring myself to believe in an afterlife? Yes. Faith, even in nothing, isn't rational.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
Amara.
Gwendolyn walked down the scanty sidewalk, a depleting cup of warm coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. It was like any other evening- the air was cool and the breeze scattered dead leaves onto the street. She tossed her cup into a trash bin nearby and took a long drag, watching a group of high school kids as they walked past. Their laughter rang into the air, the sound sickly sweet and it gave her a headache. There was a time she envied their innocence. Born to a mother that endured an abusive relationship until her death, Gwendolyn was stripped of her childhood from an early age. Thinking back, how she had wished to live a normal life, go to school, get a job. Now, as she watched the neighbourhood children grow into young adults, she wondered if she would have been happy either way. Life was okay for some, shitty for most. If she'd had the opportunity to make her own choices, would her life have turned out a bit different?
By Parti Pris4 years ago in Fiction
The Teller
“In twelve days, you’ll find everything you’re looking for, Ms. Harmsworth. You’ll be able to pay everything back in no time at all,” I told her. The future I saw for her was bleak, unable to pay back the loan the bank was going to give her, so they would foreclose on her house and sell off her assets. It didn’t matter to me, the bank was paying me to ignore the negative visions and use my reputation as the world’s greatest psychic to convince people to take a loan.
By Alex H Mittelman 4 years ago in Fiction
