Short Story
The Oasis
The desert is hot. I see mirages of water as I desperately search for food. After the World War of 2030, there was not much left on earth but dust. My ancestors have told stories - stories of a peaceful, bountiful world that was. I decide to stop my search to sit on the sand. I am exhausted from looking all day through the dust. I close my eyes and try to feel the earth. I can hear the wind and the chatter of the others in the background.
By Kathryn Willis3 years ago in Fiction
A Slow Decent Into Madness
It's 2AM and all I have to do is wait. Death comes for all of us. The problem is death doesn't announce itself or waits to be invited, it just comes whenever it chooses and then it’s over. Death doesn’t care if your ready, or if you want it to come. Most people are surprised when death comes, like they hoped death would visit them at another time or another hour. The irony that the only certainty of life is death is the only thing that makes me laugh now.
By Elizabeth Grant3 years ago in Fiction
AFFAIR OF THE HEART - A short Story
Ж ‘There’s a pleasure in pain’Ж This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to names, characters, actual persons, living or dead, places, locales or incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are purely used fictitiously. To the extent that the covers and pictures go, models and free pictures websites were used.
By Lady Lavinia Dasani3 years ago in Fiction
Guilty By Association
India’s heart-shaped locket bounced up and down against her chest as she ran. It was the last gift she received from her parents before their passing, and she held onto it for dear life. She looked around at what was once her childhood neighborhood. It was as if no time had passed. Colorful birds of paradise adorned the nicely manicured front lawn. The grass was a vibrant green with solar lights leading the way up to the front door. She stopped to catch her breath but dared not stay long. For whatever reason she was running, she instinctively knew she’d have to start again. The warm, welcoming red door lured her in closer; so close she almost opened it but stopped as she touched the handle. Again, instinctively she knew that if she opened the door, her childhood would be blasted open. She withdrew her hand and ran away from the house.
By Himmet Kazak3 years ago in Fiction
The Hearts Call
Five years ago the world woke up one day and was in tatters as the long-coming apocalypse finally occurred. We all went to sleep one night in June of 2021, all of us expecting the next day would be there for us. At 2:37 am, central standard time, the Yellowstone Super Volcano that we heard stories for years about, erupted. The fear scientists had for years turned out to be justified, over half of the country was destroyed in a matter of minutes. Hundreds of thousands of people were obliterated during the first minute of the blast, a blast that could be seen by astronauts on the Internation Space Station.
By Jason Ray Morton 3 years ago in Fiction
The Heirloom
Blah, blah, blah. I am in physical pain from trying not to roll my eyes in boredom. Just order your drink and go already. Can you not tell by the complete lack of interest on my face? I have bigger and more pressing matters at hand than discussing your dreadfully boring… whatever it was that you were talking about. Your moustache is too long, and your ridiculous top hat might make others assume you are wealthy, but to me its just part of a façade. Maybe I should give him a drink on the house so he will go back to his table. I need to move this bracelet into the top of my corset so I can sneak it out of here before anyone notices that its gone. It almost feels like its burning my skin being visible to everyone!
By Sarah MacKenzie3 years ago in Fiction
Alice Meets Alyss
Tired of being alone, tired of being the only one to ever do anything wrong, tired of being just "that girl", she stormed out the back door and into the yard. The crash of the door against the jam resounded through the quiet afternoon air. She stood in the center of the yard, the uncut grass tickling her shins through her black and white striped stockings, breathing rapidly in anger and frustration. She wanted to scream.
By Rachal Flewellen3 years ago in Fiction
The Witch Of Cumberland Ave.
When I first saw Mrs. Moore she had a colander on her head and was wearing a green plastic trash bag poncho. She was on a rickety old ladder cleaning out the gutters of her dilapidated house. I congratulated myself on my good fortune — she appeared to be engrossed in her project and her back was towards me as I was attempting to stealth-walk past her front fence without being noticed. I was premature in my celebration as it turns out.
By Valerie Kittell3 years ago in Fiction