Short Story
Photographs
It was 3 PM and Amanda sat down in her favorite chair. It was where she always went to relax. But today was different. She was far too upset to relax. Her husband had not paid any attention to her. He didn’t even notice that anything was wrong. He just sat there, in his favorite chair, enjoying the game on ESPN. She gave a mean and evil glance at Henry but did not say a word. Henry glanced back with a puzzled look on his face. She got up, pointed at the calendar, and glanced at him again. She wasn’t just pointing to the calendar itself. It was more so the day on the calendar. A very special day. He hunched his shoulder and continued to watch the game.
By David E. Perry3 years ago in Fiction
Naughty and Nice
Christmas lights glimmer, bathing the room in an ethereal golden haze. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d attend a high society holiday fundraiser, yet here I am arm in arm with the love of my life. All eyes turn as we walk into the room, and my heart sinks like a stone.What am I doing here? These are all his friends! They don’t know me; they probably won’t like me. He, of all people, should know how awkward I am!
By Morgan Rhianna Bland3 years ago in Fiction
Lattes and Love Notes
In the middle of a long forgotten forest, far and away from the corruption and development of humanity, lay a quaint village nestled in the middle of an abandoned clearing. The name of this village has long been forgotten to time; its people of here and now have been known to call it Pine Haven. It is home to all manner of creatures and beings, from fairies and gnomes to a very friendly Minotaur that teaches at the only school for hundreds of miles. The calm of the morning was broken as the sky, that was blanketed in thick, angry storm clouds, suddenly opened up. Heavy sheets of warm summer rain cascaded down and soaked into the packed earth of the streets. The denizens previously milling about the town center now dove under shop awnings and into their homes to escape the downpour. In moments the village square was seemingly deserted, save for a young woman walking earnestly through the square.
By Ellie Beauchamp3 years ago in Fiction
Three Words
Mandy: I love you Terrance read the text repeatedly, brushing his brown, unkept hair out of his eyes. He sat at the table and dropped a heavy sigh. He refused to look up from his phone, contemplating his response to her text. Annoyance flashed over his pale-colored face.
By Iris Harris3 years ago in Fiction
No One Can Hear You
Today is a Wednesday but it sure feels like a Monday. On the day that was actually Monday, Headquarters was made aware that contact had been lost with one of several manned deep-space research vessels. Details began to trickle in. There was an emergency of some kind which resulted in the total destruction of the ship. The data has just arrived; logs, experimental data, telemetry, audio, video, everything you could cram into a ship's computer. There are a dozen eggheads itching to tear into it from all angles, but that's not why you got out of bed this morning.
By Rebekah Conard3 years ago in Fiction
Deafening Silence. Content Warning.
Tremors ravage my hands and arms, and my knees bounce up and down like I have springs in my sneakers. Figures in scrubs race back and forth along the corridor, their faces drawn, pale, severe. The smell of bleach is all around me; suffocating, nauseating. A noxious, perfumey scent lies on top of it (gardenias, I think), trying to mask the odor, but it only feeds the pounding ache growing behind my right eye. There's another smell beneath it all - much more potent - that twists my guts up in painful knots. I can't quite place what it is, but it reminds me how much I despise hospitals.
By Natalie Gray3 years ago in Fiction
No Words Left
Staring into the fire, I give up pretending I’m reading and close the book in my lap. I set it on the coffee table and run my hands over my face. He is three hours late. Flopping backward on the couch, I slide like a dead fish to the floor, causing my legs to coil oddly beneath me. My boot treads catch on the bear skin rug. Running my hands through the fur, I pretend it's his hair and sharply pull. A few strands stick to my clammy fingers. It doesn’t ease my mood.
By Sarah DuPerron3 years ago in Fiction
The Swings
The wind wooshes against her ears, tugs her hair backward, as her feet reach to touch the blue of the sky. She kicks her feet back. Her hair flings forward and she plummets. Her legs stretch out again and her feet are now framed against the green of new grass. With each pass she flies higher. She flies so high that the chain of the swing has a little slack. For just a moment she is weightless before the snap of gravity pulls her back down.
By Adelheid West 3 years ago in Fiction
