Short Story
Bloodied Glass Slippers
The sun shone down upon the small house just like it did everyday. Cinderella cleaned the dust from the window seals, humming a tuneless melody as she went. She frowned at the dust, wondering how there could possibly be so much when she’d cleaned the same window just the week earlier. It didn’t matter how it got there, she’d have to clean it no matter what.
By Alexis Moreno3 years ago in Fiction
Love to a Witch
Setting Medieval Dark Ages 1584 Aiden Price @a.pricey Her eyes sparkled as the evening sun kissed her face while she wept in agony. She was clawed at, held vigorously in the grasp of the sea of petrified civilians. Her screams were ear-piercing, causing the harmonious choir of the birds to halt. The atmosphere was grim as dreary people swarmed, their chants growing in intensity. The repulsive stench filled her lungs, she could taste the approaching death. The jagged narrow blade was unsheathed. The roar of the crowd fell silent and transformed into a deep inhale. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, in desperation and torment, the constraints preventing him from protecting his world. Glares of disgust caught his attention; the crowd had no remorse or sympathy. Instead they whispered and snarled under their breath “Witch Lover”. The knife was held high in the air, time slowed, before a strike penetrated her chest causing drops of blood to ooze and seep into the puddles in the mud. His stomach curled as he aggressively threw up, her eyes closed gracefully as she collapsed into the mud. She had been slaughtered like an animal as that is how they saw her, it was their way of comfort accusing someone for this infectious, lethal disease. She was marked a witch.
By Aiden Price3 years ago in Fiction
Space Technology
He clenched the heart shaped locket that once belonged to his sister. He wore it around his neck as a reminder. A reminder that his dream job killed his entire family, but it wasn’t just his family’s blood on his hands. He remembers the look on his sister’s face, the screams of innocent people, and the anger that he felt.
By Heather Skelton3 years ago in Fiction
How I Stopped Stealing
When I was about 7 or so and growing up in Brooklyn in the mid-60s, I had a neighbor named Andy who lived down the block and who was about 10 months older than me. At that age, 10 months made a huge difference. It was almost a year. So, to Andy, I was just a "kid".
By Reid Moore3 years ago in Fiction
This Is Eliziner Lane
A small beam of sunlight seeps into a dusty room through the broken window as a soft breeze blows a loose wisp of hair across Reine's cheek. She starts to rouse as the air horn sounds in the distance. She begins rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake up fully as she sits up. Sounds of other Seekers waking up fills the air. Everyone fold up their bed mats and blankets to put away.
By Samirra Elsaieh3 years ago in Fiction
A Marked One's Dream
***Warning: This piece of science fiction may be a trigger if you have experienced severe bullying or sexual violence*** Walking along the lake shore she had found the water snake, suspended, undulating with the gentle waves. Her scales -- was she a she? She really didn't have any way of knowing, but in her mind, there was a tenderness that said so -- her scales glistened a wet silver that she might have wished upon her own skin had she known the language. She lifted the snake from the water, slowly, unsure of how the creature would hold the weight of her meter's length in open air.
By Emma Scott Lavin3 years ago in Fiction
What they came for
“It’s almost dawn we have to go” she said as the sun began to leak thru the dust scattered across the mountain tops of what used to be London, Ky. That was before “They” came and life as we know it changed forever. I can still remember the smell of the weapon they used to level the entire eastern part of the United States. It burns in my nose from time to time like an erie reminder of the fate I barley escaped. If Uncle Tom hadn’t pushed me and Carla into the underground cellar just before the explosion I’m not sure we would have made it. I’m not sure how many others made it, but we heard a signal on an old battery powered radio Uncle Tom kept down in the cellar telling any survivors to meet down in what used to be Knoxville, Tennesse so that’s where we are going. We had to move during the day and hide at night. That’s when “They” were active. We haven’t seen them yet but we can definitely hear them at night flying around. You could feel an electric vibration in the air whenever they are near. We guess they sleep during the day like some form of vampirism alien species but that’s just speculation. This is all too new to really have any answers it’s only been a week since the explosion an only the second time we was brave enough to leave the cellar. “Are you ready” Carla asked. You could see it in her eyes she was afraid but she was too stubborn to let me know that. We couldn’t stay in the cellar any longer we had run out of supplies so we had no other choice but to find somewhere to go. We walked for miles it seemed without saying a word. I think we was both just determined to get as far as we could before nightfall started to set in. Finally in the distance I seen the place where the sign used to be to mark the Tennessee border. “We have to find a place to stay now” she demanded and I knew she was right. Neither of us could fathom the idea of being without shelter. “Just a little farther” I said hoping she would agree. “ No we don’t have time “ she said with a growl in her voice and I knew it wasn’t a good idea to challenge her. As much as I hated to admit it my sister always tried to look out for me. “I think I see a cabin up ahead in the woods, let’s see if we can stay there.” She said so I began to follow her up the side of the mountain. We knocked on the door and looked in the windows but no one appeared to be inside so I picked the lock and we finally opened the door of the cabin. “This looks like it will work for the night” Carla said “Try and get some sleep we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow “ so I unrolled my sleeping bag and laid it on the old dusty floor of the rustic cabin and laid down to try and rest. The silence filled the room and all you could hear is the click of the Heart shaped locket opening and closing that Carla kept around her neck. Daddy gave it to her the day he died and she has kept it firmly wrapped around her neck since that day. I was too young to remember him but she was very close to him and would often tell me stories about the adventures they had when she was my age. She was 8 years older than me and I was only a year when he passed. “You miss him don’t you?” I asked and she paused for a long time before she answerd. She took a deep breath and said “ more and more each day, if daddy was here he would know what to do.” She said as her voice began to crack and I could tell the question was hard to answer. “What is inside the locket? I asked but her tone immediately changed and she almost seemed mad I even asked. “None of your business!” She said as she rolled over to face the cabin wall. “Now go to sleep” so I just laid there and stared at the ceiling until I drifted into a dream.
By Justin wills3 years ago in Fiction
Mounds
The horizon is dark. Clouds are gathering, pulsing with flashes of lightning. She tucks a strand of long dark hair behind her ear and jabs her trowel into the caked soil. She breaks the largest clods with her hands and mounds it up, patting it tight around a cluster of seeds. Zucchini. She scoots over, jabs, mounds, pats. She repeats the motions over and over. Her thighs and lower back ache. She surveys the rows of mounds that contain corn, squash, peppers, tomatoes, potatoes and thinks standing up might be worse. At the far edge of the garden is a dividing line of green between the bare soil and the dry grasses, shrubs and trees beyond. Garlic planted last fall.
By Adelheid West 3 years ago in Fiction