Short Story

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
Stained Glass
In the core of a curious middle age town settled between moving slopes and lavish backwoods, there stood a little, endured studio. Its windows were embellished with perplexing stained glass boards, projecting a kaleidoscope of varieties onto the cobblestone roads beneath. This was the studio of Expert Craftsman Eldric, famous all through the land for his choice craftsmanship and unmatched ability in the specialty of stained glass. Eldric was not only a specialist; he was a watchman of a perishing custom, went down through ages of his loved ones. Since early on, he had been hypnotized by the play of light through stained glass windows, and under the tutelage of his dad, he had sharpened his ability until it sparkled more brilliant than any jewel. Yet, as the years passed, Eldric ended up wrestling with the cruel real factors of an influencing world. The interest for stained glass dwindled as fresher, more productive types of embellishment arose. However, Eldric stayed ardent in his devotion to his art, declining to think twice about creative uprightness for patterns. One crisp pre-winter evening, as Eldric sat slouched over his workbench, a hesitant thump reverberated through the studio. Surprised, he admired see a little kid remaining in the entryway, her eyes wide with amazement. "Ace Eldric, might I have a snapshot of your time?" she asked, her voice scarcely over a murmur. Inquisitive, Eldric motioned for her to enter. She ventured into the warm sparkle of the studio, gripping a worn out material in her shudder hands. "I come bearing a solicitation," she started, her look fixed on the floor. "My town is needing a stained glass window for our house of prayer. Be that as it may, unfortunately, we miss the mark on means to commission such a masterpiece." Eldric read up the young lady briefly, detecting a profound truthfulness as would be natural for her. Regardless of the long periods of difficulty and isolation, a flash of motivation glinted to life inside him. "I will create the window for your town," he announced, his voice firm with resolve. "Be that as it may, on one condition: you should help me in its creation." The young lady's eyes extended in bewilderment, however she gestured anxiously, her face land with appreciation. Thus, their impossible organization started. Every day, Eldric directed the young lady's insecure hands, showing her the sensitive craft of glasswork. Together, they emptied their essences into the production of the window, injecting it with their common dreams and desires. As weeks transformed into months, expression of their cooperation spread all through the town, touching off a freshly discovered feeling of trust and solidarity among its occupants. Gradually, the house of prayer started to come to fruition, walls decorated with energetic shades moved in the daylight. Finally, the day of revealing showed up. The residents assembled in quieted expectation as Eldric and the young lady remained before the finished window, their hands caught together in a quiet supplication. As the principal beams of sunrise enlightened the house of prayer, the stained glass window showed some major signs of life in a stunning presentation of variety and light. Scenes of affection, confidence, and win blossomed across its surface, catching the substance of the human soul in the entirety of its excellence and intricacy. Tears sparkled according to the locals as they viewed the magnum opus before them, a demonstration of the force of constancy and the getting through tradition of an unassuming craftsman and his student. At that time, Eldric understood that his actual inheritance was the amount of his manifestations, however the lives he had contacted and the hearts he had propelled en route. What's more, as he stood side by side with the young lady who had reignited his energy for his art, he realize that their process was just barely starting. As the townspeople wondered about the stained glass window, Eldric felt a swell of unparalleled delight dissimilar to anything he had at any point known. For a really long time, he had worked away in isolation, questioning whether his craft actually held significance in a world that appeared to have continued on. Yet, presently, as he looked at the essences of those he had contacted with his work, he realize that his energy had tracked down new reason. In the days that followed, guests from all over traveled to the town to observe the magnificence of the house of prayer's most current expansion. Eldric and the young lady, presently indistinguishable friends, greeted every visitor wholeheartedly, sharing the account of their cooperation and the excursion that had driven them to this second. In any case, in the midst of the freshly discovered popularity and acknowledgment, Eldric remained grounded in the information that genuine satisfaction couldn't be tracked down in that frame of mind of others, yet in the bonds fashioned through shared encounters and common regard. Thus, he kept on tutoring the young lady, sustaining her ability and imparting in her the very love for stained glass that had directed him all through his life. As the years passed, Eldric's studio turned into a safe house for hopeful craftsmans from varying backgrounds, drawn by the commitment of gaining from an expert of his art. Together, they revived the antiquated practice of stained glass, pushing the limits of their work of art and moving people in the future to emulate their example. Also, however Eldric's hands developed slight with age and his eyes darkened with the progression of time, his soul stayed as energetic as could be expected, forever reflected in the shining sheets of glass that embellished the sanctuary walls. For eventually, it was not the excellence of his manifestations or the approval of the world that characterized Eldric's inheritance, however the tradition of adoration, constancy, and human association that he had given to the people who had strolled next to him on his excursion. What's more, as he shut his eyes for the last time, encompassed by the glow and light of his adored stained glass, he realize that his story would live on in the hearts of all who had been moved by its splendor.
By zulfi bux3 years ago in Fiction
Anyone for Dennis?
"So, what're you saying?" "I'm saying you should ask her out!" "I don't know if I can do that." Matt looked at his friend, Dennis and shook his head. It had been years now since Dennis had dated and Matt was concerned that he was still on his own.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
House of the Murmuring Mirrors
I got a deal on a mansion, and I couldn’t wait to move in. My name is Don Sturgis, and I deserved this. Apparently, the previous owners, a sweet old couple named Rob and Delilah Freemason, had been poisoned and the police never found the poisoner, so the house remained on the market for just over thirty years because prospective buyers were worried the poisoner would come back. But after three decades on the market, I wasn’t worried.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Love
Once upon a time in the quaint little town of Serenity Springs, there lived a rather eccentric bunch of characters. Among them was Alice, the ever-so-dreamy florist with a penchant for poetry, and Oliver, the charmingly clumsy baker who had a habit of mixing up his ingredients.
By panik ka3 years ago in Fiction
A Beacon of Strength: Honoring Emma for International Women's Day 2024
In the Year of the Dragon 2024, as we celebrate International Women's Day, there is one woman whose story of resilience, compassion, and strength has inspired me deeply. Her name is Emma, and her journey embodies the essence of empowerment and courage that we honor on this day.
By mike webster3 years ago in Fiction
Market Day. Content Warning.
"Girl! Girl!" the Chickens squawked. "GIRRRRL!" the cows boomed. "What day is it, Girl!" shouted the Pig. It was always a cacophony when she crossed the yard. Sometimes she put her hands over her ears, but it didn't help much.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Eternal Wanderer
Pausing, the haggard wanderer hooked his gnarled staff in the crook of his arm, pulling a hefty tome from his waist where it had been chained; he opened it, making a few marks. He did not have a pencil or pen; instead, he used the cracked fingernail of his index finger as a nib and his blood for ink. Once he completed the note, he closed the book and dropped it back to his side. There is no more time to pause as his feet automatically continue his trudge. Muttering to himself, he sings worship songs, prayers, and supplication to his God. Though he has no quarter or home, nowhere to knock the dust from his callused feet or rest his heavy head, he does know his God. The dense forests, high mountains, deep valleys, and seas pass all the same as he passes. As everything erodes, the wanderer remains.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Soaring into Heaven
In the celestial realm of vibrant skies and eternal beauty, Aurora and Zephyr, two celestial beings, dwelled in a modest abode. Their days were filled with awe-inspiring views of heavenly landscapes visible through the windows of their room. The allure of the unknown outside beckoned them, prompting a curiosity that could no longer be contained.
By Eee Nnnvy3 years ago in Fiction
Lost Sock. Top Story - February 2024.
I am a lost sock seeking my sole mate. Swirling around in the wet tumble weed of denim and old clothes, waiting to be reunited with my other half. I am hopelessly stuck in a rotational conundrum...
By Rosie J. Sargent3 years ago in Fiction
The Magic Scarf
I always loved my scarf. Did you know my grandma knitted it for me? I would take it wherever I go. It would be my safe-keeping. I loved the scarf. Some say it looked dignified and others say it look respectable. As soft as a lamb and stronger than winter. We get a lot of winters where I live. It gets freezing cold that's why my grandma told me to take the scarf wherever so I would stay warm and safe. I would travel much and had many places to go. I would never ever forget my scarf. I would love walking around. I like looking at nature stand still in winter. It is a lovely sight. Seeing the trees hibernate for winter, the wild animals gather for their hibernation. And seeing my footprint in the dazzling snow. And playing in the snow and eating snowflakes and wishing upon Bold Moons. Yeah I love winter. I love the refreshing air. And I will always keep warm with my magic scarf. I called it magic because I never got sick from the first winter up till now. I love being able to do what I want to do anytime I want to do. And not only does this scarf protected me from sickness but also it comforts me. I love the comfy and cozy feel it gives me. I feel like I could do anything and be safe. It also remind me of home and my heritage. It is apart of my personality. Even when I meet strangers they say something because of my scarf. My magic scarf, my lovable scarf, my sacred scarf has taken over me. And I don't know what I would do without it. Even my family recognized me for wearing that beautiful lamb-made scarf. And then it happened? I remember the day as if it was yesterday, I lost my magic scarf. I looked everywhere under the bed over the bed in the dresser and under the dresser, through my bedroom and throughout my family's house. I called my friends and parents. Nobody could find the scarf. I drove myself crazy about that scarf. I had dreams of the scarf and some were nightmares. Did someone steal my scarf? Did someone take my scarf? Was my scarf lost? Was my scarf destroyed? This was ongoing for days and days which turned into weeks and weeks. And finally I got sick, I was bed-ridden. Yup, the flu and I was taking all my medicine and staying in bed with a bell to call my mother and father. The warm fire of the fireplace was present but faint. I still was having dreams of that magic scarf. Would I ever find out what happened to it? Would I ever find my dear beloved scarf? Would life be the same? Would life be better? All I know is that I am stuck in this bed. I can't go outside. I can't see friends. I can't do what I want. My life is shambles. My life is ruined. Just fighting to see another day. Fighting to breath the fresh air. Fighting to see the morning. Mom and Dad brought in Rover, my French Pit Bull Dog. And Rover was a puppy but as smart as any dog and as curious as any dog. He did make me happy and for some time took my mind off of the scarf. I was playing with Rover like my own self again. I was happy and getting better. Then one day Rover was sniffing around the house and I usually stopped him but I was intrigue. He was sniffing around the rooms then the main floors then the closet. And then when he got to one closet that my parents and I never used. Rover started barking and barking and I tried to quiet him down but I could not and so I opened the door and look. And at first there was nothing but then a scarf the scarf the magic scarf was hanging just like in old days. I grabbed it and held it and tie it many times around. And after sometime I thanked Rover by taking him on a walk. And from that day on I never departed from the magic scarf and Rover was my hero.
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous3 years ago in Fiction
Those Three Words
So here I am, laying in bed catching my breath after some pretty spectacular displays of bedroom prowess, when Those Three Words pop out of my mouth like a bunch of cats with cabin fever making a break for it:
By Kyle Hulbert3 years ago in Fiction