Short Story
Colder Weather
How long has it been? A week? A month? Maybe a year? I can’t remember the last time you talked to me. Yet here you are, an echo in my head refusing to let go of the pleasant memories we shared together. I can still see you sitting on the couch, curled up with the books you used to try and get me to read. I always told you I was too busy to sit and join you while I started up the car and started driving. Driving away from you.
By Gunnar Andersonabout a year ago in Fiction
A Rooftop Tradition. AI-Generated.
In a small village surrounded by gentle hills, summers were always hot. The sun burned bright all day, and the walls of the houses held the heat like stones from a fire. People tried to stay cool by sitting under trees, drinking cold water from clay pots, and fanning themselves with palm leaves.
By Bilal Mohammadiabout a year ago in Fiction
Dreams
The memory of his embrace still lingers—I can almost feel the closeness of him. I even somehow feel a feeling of not wanting to let him go. I hold my breath, savoring the feeling before the moment breaks, and my alarm goes off, and again I wake up alone.
By Faith MaryEllen Caselmanabout a year ago in Fiction
Amaretto Sour
“God, this is exhausting”, I catch myself saying aloud, and down another shot the bartender unwillingly poured for me after waving a fiver at him. Someone laughs down at the other end of the bar, and I shoot them my best death stare, which isn’t saying much because I can hardly be mean to the fruit flies currently swarming my teeny tiny apartment kitchen.
By Tattoos & Tarotabout a year ago in Fiction
The Imagined Life of Ana Luzia Morales. Winner in You Were Never Really Here Challenge.
Ana Luzia Morales woke up in her Manhattan apartment to find that the sun had forgotten how to rise. It hung instead in the corner of the sky like a child’s crayon scribble smeared behind the oppressive grey clouds. The city outside her bedroom window moved like a memory on fast forward—vivid, restless, and somewhat out of synch.
By Jennifer Vasallo about a year ago in Fiction
Toby
Everyone should have a best friend; it is just wrong not to have one. It was Halloween when we met, and I have to say that it was perfect timing. My mom had made me a costume and I was lucky enough to go out as Batman, with the belt, the weapons and other stuff that made it look like I really was a superhero (I always wanted to be a superhero). My friends were already out there, and I would meet them on the corner to head out, just like we always did. I brought out two bags with me – just pillowcases, but the best – and came home straining with them both. My mom had me take a bath after I got home and then I just had to go to bed (a school night, she said). Only had one or two candies (some caramels and Rockets, always my favorites), and then I put the bags under the bed.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
After I Died, I Found a Box of My Life’s Mistakes
After I Died, I Found a Box of My Life’s Mistakes I wasn’t expecting an afterlife. I wasn’t expecting anything, really. One moment, headlights. A sharp, white flash. The feeling of my body being more air than bone. Then darkness.
By Kine Willimesabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes and Bones
It used to be glossy. You can tell. Now it's dull, and peeling away from the wall. Some of the words are hard to read, either because the paper is torn, or because someone (actually several someones) have been here with marker pens and spray paint. In some places, furious hands have dug so deep with pens they've gouged the paper. The brickwork shows through underneath.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Gone Boy
Orange, reds, and yellows seeped through the office windows and filled the room up. While memories of your tangerine shirt still linger on and I imagine your scent is here if I had any sense of smell. And I wonder if I fell asleep after a long day at the office.
By Lisa Pulliamabout a year ago in Fiction
