Short Story

Seduction In A Minute
Let’s get this one minute seduction started, Maestro !!!! Let’s begin with the visual: A beautiful lady enter the room, with her exotic vision. She is not tall nor short. She has long cascading hair down her sexy back. It moves like the rippling waves.
By Mariann Carroll3 years ago in Fiction
The Last Train Ride
The train moves slowly, towards the station, the wheels screeching against the track as if resisting getting closer to the station which appeared to be a small dot in the distance. The sky wore a dimmed shade, heavy with shadows that hovered to burst into tears at any moment. The vast expanse of the plain seemed to stretch endlessly, devoid of any signs of life or civilization, reflecting the emptiness she felt inside.
By Mr.Oby3 years ago in Fiction
The Colonial Imagination
An imposing and unmarked white van crept through the residential neighborhood, following Jericho as she took her customary post-third shift stroll home from Cristy’s, a new but rapidly aging burger joint west of town. It was a three-mile walk that she usually biked. Had someone not cut the lock the night before and stolen the Specialized S-Works her mother had used as a young woman and gifted to Jericho when she first moved away for college, she would have been home already.
By kp3 years ago in Fiction
Sluggo
My name is Sluggo and I'm a bad dog. I wasn't always bad. I and my five siblings were born good, suckled lovingly, and nurtured with exercise and play. When my owner picked me out, he was picking out a good boy. A good dog. And then we got home.
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Fiction
Right Now
The wind is blowing, and the trees are flowing, but they stay grounded. I’ve always found the most mundane aspects of life the most wonderful. Being a little girl and also a 5th grader has taught me that life is fleeting. “Lawaila, be careful out there! Watch out for the bees!” My mom shouts at me after only being out here for five seconds. “I’m okay, mommy! I’ll be inside in a minute!” I shout back. I’m under this thick, beautiful tree and I’m looking up wondering how it feels to be so tall. The rigids on this bark reminds me of the scars I have on my knees. I look down at my knees to take a look at my scabs, but instead I see a caterpillar just laying on me. “Hey little buddy. How did you get right here?” I gently pick him up and I watch him move around my finger. He swirls around and it seems like he’s having the time of his life. It’s funny how the experience I have with him is completely different from the one he’s having with me. I’m still while he’s squirming around. I’m big to him, he’s tiny to me. There’s so many wonders to this world, more wonders than people realize. My mom was fearful of me being stung while I was excited to see the flowers bloom. I wonder if a caterpillar is aware of danger or if he’s only aware of what is happening here and now. I wonder if he misses his family or if he’s just having a good time on my finger. Time is fleeting, but right now lasts forever. All the right nows in my life look different, but there’s always a right now. There’s always a present. I’m a part of this caterpillar's present; I’m a part of a moment he had in time. He may not remember me after this, but I sure will remember him. I will remember the day he taught me stillness. My hope is that this moment brings him joy, my hope is that when he begins to fly he remembers me and comes to visit me more often. My hope is that he’ll continue to feel safe around me. I gently travel him over to my other finger. He stops twirling and he begins to look at me. His orange body with black spikes makes its way up my arm; I trust him. I don’t move, I just allow him to come closer. I feel tingling down my back as he makes his way to my neck. He goes towards my forehead and lays in between my eyes. I fall back on the tree and I close my eyes. My mom should be calling me soon. It's been a minute. I’m sure of it and my mom takes everything I say literally. I told her I’d been inside in 60 seconds and I’m sure she’s been staring at the clock this whole time. Goodbye Caterpillar; it’s been sweet hanging with you.
By Nala3 years ago in Fiction
The Ballads of Scars.
In the silent whispers of the night's embrace, Scars, once raw, now stand as testament to grace. Each wound a tale of trials borne,
By Naziashahid Raisa3 years ago in Fiction
Sabor de la Isla: A Journey Through the Heart of Cuba
Once upon a time, nestled amidst the vibrant streets of Havana, lived a young artist named Elena. With her heart as colorful as the colonial buildings that lined the cobblestone streets, Elena dreamt of exploring every corner of her beloved island of Cuba.
By leonard otoo3 years ago in Fiction
Healing Power of Positivity
In London, a nurse quickly entered the patient’s room just before two hours of the operation and efficiently began preparing and setting up the operating equipment.
By Ameer Bibi3 years ago in Fiction
Blank Pages. Top Story - April 2024.
His parents old cuckoo clock chimed its ridiculous song. It had hung there since they closed the estate all those years ago, chiming away every hour on the hour.
By Matthew J. Fromm3 years ago in Fiction
A Man that Slept with a Rich Woman to Provide for His Family
Once upon a time in a small village, there lived a poor married man named Rajesh. He was known for his strong work ethic and his unwavering determination to provide for his family. However, despite his best efforts, the meager income from his labour-intensive job wasn't enough to meet their basic needs.
By Emmanuel Ojenike3 years ago in Fiction
Peas and the Princess
Princess was outside in a thunderstorm, drenched, and frightened. Trying to find shelter, she dodged lightning strikes and ran until reaching a gate. Portia pounded on the gate until the old king of the principality opened it and was surprised to find a princess asking to be received and I got lost in the storm. Is it true your son is looking for a wife?”
By Andrea Corwin 3 years ago in Fiction
Esoteric Lust. Content Warning.
A statue of a woman, especially if she is naked, may be spared in times of upheaval, unless men, pricks par excellence, become dumber than usual, or time chips away pieces of her grandeur. There is nothing more beautiful than a beautiful woman, except perhaps a tree bearing fruit or standing erect like a good prick. There are no good pricks as far as I know, but I will pretend that there are at least two, although one of them seems to be dying from loneliness after having discovered that almost everything taught is a lie repeated enough times to become a truth. Lies abound like the stars in a moonless night.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Fiction