Short Story
Delicate Ice Crystals
Fluffy ice crystals adorn her glossy black hair like shimmering diamonds and settle upon her eyelashes. Apple-bright windburned cheeks and nose accentuated her pale skin. Large crystal-blue eyes assess the frigid snow drifts and unmistakable ice spires with a sculptor's eye. Beside her, in the snow, lay her bag of tools for her magic. Pacing around a sizable ice pillar created by a frozen trickle of water draining from a nearby cliff, she imagined what might lay inside the ice. Reaching into her bag, she removed an ice chisel and began marking the ice. She had to break it gently, or the solid ice would crack, spoiling its possibility.
By S.N. Evans3 years ago in Fiction
White
There are some missions that are so important that once you start, you can’t go back. This was one of those missions. I was chosen, hand-picked, out of a group of 5 individuals because I was the strongest person for the job. At least that’s what they tell me. I believe that they chose me because I was the only one dumb enough to do it.
By David E. Perry3 years ago in Fiction
Splintered Hope. Top Story - January 2024.
“You’re hopeless! Nothing anyone does is good enough for you. Don’t you see how you’re destroying this family?” Glass flew by my head and in the moment between shatter, I could almost see through to a better outcome. But gravity didn’t leave me enough time to consider hope before glass made contact with the wall in an explosive production.
By Oneg In The Arctic3 years ago in Fiction
Wandering Zombie
Somewhere In the realm where the digital met the tangible, where reality and virtual existence intertwined, there existed a young adult girl named Renna. Adorned in goth fashion and an overabundance of black and silver accessories, it was almost as if she was prying attention away from the clear fact that she was also undead. A zombie. With her ghostly white hair and piercing green eyes, she roamed the planes, a quirky creature navigating the labyrinth of ones and zeros.
By WanderingZombie3 years ago in Fiction
My Name is Baby Yaya
My name, as it was given to me, is Baby Yaya. I am blond-haired and blue-eyed, with eyes that open and close. I was born in a cardboard box and stood on a shelf among many others for quite some time, looking across the aisle at some attractive stuffed pets.
By Natalie Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Porcelain Gel
Life was just life before the age of 18, and then that porcelain gel was introduced, and life became so much more. Ace wondered if it was new, if it just came about, or did everyone hold out on all the kids… up until the time they hit the age of 18? But there it was. That porcelain gel. Beauty in a between-states kind of substance.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile3 years ago in Fiction
Three Fins | Pt. 2
Vineyard Haven Chief of Police, Ryan Riley, was sweating profusely over a staggered pile of unpaid parking tickets while sucking down her second mocha iced coffee of the morning. She was desperately trying to resume control of the situation, but the chaos of the barrage of phone calls made it difficult for her to gather all of the facts. If swimmers had been bitten, and killed by sharks, she would be forced to evacuate every beach on the entire island. Public and private. On top of that it was Labor Day weekend, which meant the island was packed with thousands of vacationers, and beach goers.
By Kale Sinclair3 years ago in Fiction
Here
I lie here, a thin layer of dust between me and eternal peace. I want to scream at anyone or anything that passes my way, but I no longer have the means. Coyotes stole that part of me long ago. As another seething hot day gives way to chill of night, my hopes of rest go unanswered. Time becomes viscous, a morass I cannot escape. I beg to be freed, freed at last from this arid hellscape, but what parts remain will not work. I wait impatiently for that moment of discovery, the moment I am uncovered, the moment justice is served.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin3 years ago in Fiction
