Short Story
The Complexities of Our Love Story: Chapter 3
Cloaked in shadows of years past, where enigmatic stories lingered like spectres in the winding cobblestone streets, the intricate tale of Jack and Katherine continued to unfold. Their love story, intricately entwined with mysteries and suspense, faced new challenges as it navigated the labyrinth of Jack's family dynamics.
By Empowering Winning Solutions3 years ago in Fiction
My Narnia
One day I woke up in my Narnia. I woke up and stepped into an entirely new world. One recognizable, but wholly unknown. It carries many expectations. I stumbbled into it. It happened not quite over night, but at times it felt that way. My Narnia carries no friendly wise character's, there was no Aslan to greet me. I entered at the part where Aslan had died and unfortunately Mr.Tumnus transformed and disappeared before my eyes. The dangers remained recognizable, witches existed in all colors and places trying to turn others to cold stones or arrogant endullgant feens. One had to be steadfast at all times. Dangers lurked everywhere, everything a trap, everywhere a start of a maze that could easily disorient and make one lost. The information I gained from formal education was flipped upside down. There is no place for it in my Narnia. It's here I would feel the true disappointment of loss. All the recognizable characters were gone. In my Narnia the ladder we all climb is so long it resembles Jack's Bean stock. So thin, it doesn't seem to even have room for one, yet so many of us fight to climb it, thinking it's the way out. I watch as we are plucked off while climbing, the unlucky one's having to start all over from the bottom. At first I thought my Narnia would consume and devour me, decay my soul before I inevitably disappeared. It tries. I hear Otis in my head, "Two thousand miles I roam, just to make this NOT my home". I smile to myself. I ignore the thought correcting not my home to dock my home. I repeat, "Two thousand miles I roam just to make this NOT my home." Like the mystery that brought this Narnia to me, these lyrics brought back my identity. I can roam, I can learn, I can experience a journey even if it leads me no where, even if ultimately I mess it up or others mess it up and home is lost to me. It can be partially up to me. I can make it anything through my power of perspective. Everything waits as a part of a story that has been told before or yet unwritten. I can make this not my home, refuse it while embracing the search. I can be stubborn if I choose. A brat if I wish. I can be defiant. I could even make this place my home, any place. I can be open to it. I can laugh, I can sing, I can do what the moment requires. "So I guess I'll remain the same", I sing loud....."Wastin' time" Through Otis's lyrics I was transported back. It's this ability to make the best of things that is my identity. To see things for what they are and adjust. The choices I choose are original to me and the moment. An identity forged from teachings and moments prior. Whether Susanne or the others I can survive after my Narnia, create better chapters. Sent from my Galaxy
By simplicity3 years ago in Fiction
Pumpkin Pie
Once upon a time in a faraway northern land, there lived a college freshman about to celebrate her first birthday away from home. Every birthday for as long as she could remember, her Dad had made her a unique birthday cake: a black poodle, or a log cabin or a shiny glazed car.
By Barbara Steinhauser 3 years ago in Fiction
Species. Content Warning.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The target was being inspected. "Chiseled chin, broad muscular shoulders, rippling biceps, and whoa mama! You did not skip leg day! That's good, most members of your sex tend to do that, but you chose not to neglect."
By Thavien Yliaster3 years ago in Fiction
Fires of Friendship
The rapport between Okewu and myself, his lodger for the past six months, had long been hanging by a thread. Tensions escalated steadily, like a pot left on a simmer, until one fateful Tuesday afternoon when the pressure reached its boiling point.
By Okewu Emmanuel3 years ago in Fiction
Strangers In The Night
Saturday Morning Footsteps echoed around me. My footsteps. It crossed my mind someone might have followed me, but it couldn’t have been. My dark-colored sedan blended in with the rest of the cars on the road. And in the dark, it could look like either a dark blue or black or if the light hit it exactly right, even a purple of some sort.
By Kenneth Lawson3 years ago in Fiction
Savior's Call
In the heart of a bustling city, where the streets echoed with the cacophony of life, lived a street dog with no name. His fur was a patchwork of scars, and his eyes told tales of resilience and survival. Little did he know that his destiny was about to intertwine with that of a kind man named Michael, setting the stage for a remarkable tale of rescue and reciprocity.
By Admas Getachew3 years ago in Fiction
The Surprising Factors that Earn Women Men's Respect
As a young girl growing up, I always wondered what it was about certain women that seemed to command men's respect effortlessly. Was it their beauty or their intelligence? Perhaps it was their confidence or assertiveness? It wasn't until years later, after I had finished my degree in psychology, that I finally found the answer.
By Riches Avenue3 years ago in Fiction
