Short Story
MY WEREWOLF SYSTEM. Content Warning.
Chapter 6: Werewolf Werewolf. Gary had seen the concept of the mythological creature being used in books and movies, but he had never really been the type to pay too close attention to these things. Thinking back to the few films he had watched with such being, a certain thought came to his mind.
By Ifeoluwa Akinyemi2 years ago in Fiction
MY WEREWOLF SYSTEM. Content Warning.
Chapter 5: What am I? Gary’s eyes started to flutter open slowly as he was regaining consciousness. The first thing he saw were some very tall trees above him. The sky was gray, making it hard to tell if it was just about to turn to night or whether it would soon be day again. As he lifted up his body, he noticed the sound of ruffling, which turned out to come from the many leaves underneath him.
By Ifeoluwa Akinyemi2 years ago in Fiction
MY WEREWOLF SYSTEM. Content Warning.
Chapter 4: The System The explanation from Damion continued about today’s special task. There were five briefcases in front of them, and there were five of them. Each person was to deliver the suitcase in front of them to the correct location safely, and naturally they had all been given different locations.
By Ifeoluwa Akinyemi2 years ago in Fiction
MY WEREWOLF SYSTEM. Content Warning.
Over the summer holidays, it had been an eventful time for Gary. It was not just because he had chosen to dye his hair and get a new look, but because he had come to the decision to join a gang. Something that he had kept hidden from his friend, his mother and even sister didn’t know about.
By Ifeoluwa Akinyemi2 years ago in Fiction
MY WEREWOLF SYSTEM. Content Warning.
Chapter 2: The Game Of Rugby A loud piercing sound entered the ears of the students as the whistle was blown. It served as a reminder to everyone out on the school field that it was time for their daily warm-up, meaning they had to run two big laps around the school field.
By Ifeoluwa Akinyemi2 years ago in Fiction
A Little Imagination And A Steady Breeze
* I'd been watching butterflies breaking the mind's imagination for years, ever since I was a little girl watching their acrobatics from my mama's porch swing. Their bright colors and effortless flutter always amazed me. All this power, packed into such a beautifully fragile frame coming and going with graceful ease and before you knew it, it was gone again. Off to another flower, another cattail reed or maybe even, another dimension.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Fiction
Starting Over Part 2. Top Story - February 2025. Content Warning.
Be advised, this piece includes some graphic descriptions of abuse. Ella has lived in this small town for 5 years now. In those 5 years she made 2 friends. Charlie was the one neighbor to greet her and bring her a pie on the day she moved in. Ella nearly cried at the gesture, she thought it was so sweet and neighborly. Charlie was the one and only friend she had until their partner beat them to death. At Charlie's funeral, Ella met David. David and Charlie were childhood friends; he had just moved back into town the day before Charlie died. He hadn't even gotten to see Charlie before their death. He was devastated and often sought out Ella for a shoulder to cry on. They quickly became best friends in the months following Charlie's death. Ella could see herself settling down with David; it would be so easy. But ever since Ella was in middle school, she knew she was a lesbian. David figured, but still tried to give it a shot and kiss her one night anyway after too many vodka cranberries.
By Samantha J.2 years ago in Fiction
Functional Depression: A Silent Killer
The Facade "The most dangerous people are the ones who seem perfectly fine." Elliot Grayson was the kind of man who made people feel at ease. He was the coworker who always had a smile, the neighbor who waved hello every morning, the friend who remembered birthdays and anniversaries. He was the picture of functionality—a man who had it all together. But behind the polished exterior, Elliot was a prisoner in his own mind. He was a man drowning in the quiet, unrelenting grip of functional depression.
By Mamoona Rana2 years ago in Fiction
