Short Story
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
“And we should ask alumni to write short notes about how she changed their lives; we could compile them into a bound book that she can take home,” she suggested, the words spilling out like a stream of ideas. The gym’s echo seemed to amplify each plan, turning the ordinary space into a canvas upon which their collective memories could be painted, each brushstroke a testament to Mrs. Wilkes’s indelible influence.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
“We’ve been counting on her to give the opening speech,” Peter noted, tapping his fingers against the worn wooden bench, “and to help us organize the photo exhibit of alumni milestones.” He glanced at the clock on the far wall, its hands frozen at 2:34, as if time itself were holding its breath. “If she’s gone a month before, we’ll need to find someone else—maybe Mr. Harlan from the science department? He’s got that charismatic flair, but he’s not her,” Megan replied, voice steady yet tinged with an undercurrent of urgency. The gym’s echo seemed to magnify their thoughts, turning each phrase into a reverberating chord that underscored the delicate balancing act they now faced: honoring Mrs. Wilkes’s legacy while ensuring the reunion would still carry the weight of years past, a task that suddenly felt far more complex than any poster board or invitation list they had previously imagined.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
She paused for a moment, letting the echo of her own footsteps reverberate, each tapping a reminder of the countless times she and her classmates had sprinted across this very floor, chasing after the fleeting glory of high‑school victories. In that hushed stillness, she felt the weight of a secret she was about to unload, a secret that seemed to reverberate as loudly as the distant squeak of a basketball bouncing in an empty court.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
When the last strand of fairy lights was secured and the final banner was smoothed out, the gym stood transformed—a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and stories waiting to be relived. The trio stepped back, shoulders slumped in a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, their breathing synchronized with the soft whir of the air‑conditioning unit overhead. Peter turned to his friends, his voice tinged with both pride and a hint of nervous anticipation, “We’ve done it. Tonight, we’re not just reopening a gym; we’re reopening a chapter of our lives.” Scott placed a supportive hand on Marc’s shoulder, saying, “And if anything goes wrong, we’ll just blame the sprinkler system.” Marc, smiling, replied, “Or we’ll just claim it was part of the ‘retro vibe.’” Their laughter reverberated through the space, a promise that the night ahead would be as unforgettable as the years that had led them to this moment.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Fiction
Oh My Gaaawd!!
💫🙏🤍 I don’t think of myself as a very religious person. I like to think of myself as a spiritual earthing, who can find something good and useful in every religion I’ve learned about. I believe there’s some truth to every story on the planet .. even if it’s just the source or idea that it evolved from. I’m going to share a true story of mine that I think most people will find something relatable in. It’s not well written, but it’s true and real and if it makes you smile or laugh, it makes me smile. 😃😂💫🙏🤍🕊️
By Dana Mary Colleen Campbell6 months ago in Fiction
Above From Below: Part 3
Above From Below Part I, Part 2 Rick needed a drink, and Mac’s place was as secure as anywhere he and the mysterious Major Kohl could have some privacy and get out of the rain. There was a commitment in her eyes. She had a purpose for being there. Rick needed to know what was so important that she’d hunt him down to tell it to him instead of appearing at the office. They clearly had to have been watching for him to leave the building.
By Jason Morton6 months ago in Fiction
The Malfunctioning Time Machine Part One. Content Warning.
PART ONE The Malfunctioning Time Machine Opening Prose: When the Marble Remembered the Century The revolving doors exhaled her into the lobby like a secret the building had been holding too long.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 6 months ago in Fiction
