Short Story
Trash or Treasure?
I’m snuggly wrapped around my companion’s neck, trying to keep them warm from the chilly air as we trek down a busy sidewalk. They weave in and out of people while I feel the small flakes fall and seep into my wool fabric. As they race down the stairs, going underground, I feel both ends of my cloth bouncing against their body with each movement. It’s not long before my companion rushes into a packed tin can of people, some are standing while others sit.
By Timberly Price3 years ago in Fiction
A Precious Heart
In the tender embrace of a craftsman's hands, my journey unfolded, born from the fragments of a life rich with experiences. Each hue, each shard, carried within it a tapestry of memories, woven from the colorful panes of a glass-filled storm door that my creator's children had helped stain. Each square a separate color as the little ones were taught that rainbows are what hold the promises of the future, the hopes of a life newly started.
By Adora Hooper3 years ago in Fiction
The Peddler-Woman
The peddler-woman sells things that cannot be bought, and everyone knows it. Others in the market sell beautiful things; sweaters and scarves, cutting boards and cooking pots, wine bottles and woven rugs. The crafters sew, carve, weld, sculpt, or brew all they sell, each to perfection. The peddler-woman wordlessly wheels her cart through the snow-dusted square; perched perilously on her shelves are storms and sunshine, long days and late nights, birdsongs and battle cries, quick thoughts and quiet musings. She hides her face behind heavy scarves and low hats of no particular color, but her eyes gleam through even the thickest snowfalls. I should know.
By Emily Cummings3 years ago in Fiction
Finding Joy
“How could he betray me like this?", I thought. Only a few weeks ago, Luka and I were a team, conquering the world together, spending our days and nights roaming around, staring happily into each other's eyes, laying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, just taking in the joy of living.
By Marina Fortuño3 years ago in Fiction
The Woman in the Window
December 1926, Harrogate The woman gazes out of the window at the chilly, beautiful town bustling away below, her face as blank as a page. Unaware of the frantic search for her that is taking place at this very moment, she can't hear the dogs barking and snuffling, looking for her trail.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
Something Blue
You crack my shoulder against the door as you bundle me into the taxi. There’s no apology. You don’t even bother asking if I’m okay, even though you must have seen me flinch. Heard my gasp of pain. You just mutter ‘hurry up, hurry up’ under your breath. Like it’s my fault you’re running late.
By Caroline Craven3 years ago in Fiction
1965 Ford Mustang
A gleam arises in the distance to the north-east of my body. The sun slowly creeping its way into the sky showing the trees wiggling in the morning gusts. Though the light illuminates the world and makes it shine, I find that mine has faded. The rust that settled under my paint has left speckles of teal on the forest floor. Some of it has been scattered by the wind and now settles underneath twigs and dead leaves. My lights are foggy, my tires worn, and my innards are torn and leaking fluff. I think one of my handles is loose as well. I have a broken right headlight that has been smashed in by a fallen branch. A dent from the same branch resides concaved above the socket and my mirror that once assisted the people inside me to see, now rests on the forest floor. Though it broke me, it first had been broken.
By Zakariah C. Haggard3 years ago in Fiction
