Short Story
YOU'RE ALL MINE - ch 24
YOU’RE ALL MINE - ch 24 (the magic of Midnight) ^ ^ Mia, her parents and Finola, quickly walked to the corner where Midnight’s food bowl always lay. Morena had washed the bowl clean, and it was still on the kitchen counter, however, in the corner was a large mound of live, squiggly maggots.
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Fiction
Code of Seoul
The electric pulse of Seoul thrummed beneath Minji’s feet as she entered the gleaming lobby of TechSphere Innovations. The air crackled with the energy of a thousand conversations, a low hum of innovation that vibrated through the polished concrete floor. Massive screens displayed swirling data streams and holographic projections, showcasing the company’s cutting-edge technology. Minji, adjusting the strap of her handbag, felt a thrill of anticipation. This was it.
By Tales by J.J.2 years ago in Fiction
Flyleaf
I met Them on the blank page of a novel after the final period marked the last word of the protagonist's existence. There was peace in the empty parchment untarnished by tragedy, the grief of love, or the burden of decision. Every end begins with the flyleaf.
By Eloise Robertson 2 years ago in Fiction
The Ghost in the Shadows
It's now late. The pulsating heartbeat of the city can be heard through the fissures in the pavement, pulsating against the walls of buildings that have witnessed more deaths than lives. Through the shroud of cigarette smoke that envelops me like a comfortable cloak, I am able to hear the buzz of neon lights flashing all around me. I inhale deeply, the smoke enveloping my lungs and escaping into the darkness, leaving behind a taste of remorse and experiences from the past.
By QuirkTales2 years ago in Fiction
A Sunset for Two
Every evening, Mr. Mufid sat by the window with a cup of tea in his hand. His small house, nestled in the corner of an aging neighborhood, had a perfect view of the setting sun. The warm golden hues of twilight painted the room, giving it a peaceful glow.
By Faisal Zucker 2 years ago in Fiction
The Boy on the Roof
The boy was lanky, with a mop of unkempt hair, and a slim, laughing face. It was a great joke to him, being up there on the roof. Kids gawping up at him and pointing, teachers serious, gasping or pleading... These things only made it funnier. His eyes shone. At this moment, he felt he could do anything. Like he was soaring. Cresting an invisible wave. That must be why his feet danced closer to the edge. He wasn't thinking of falling, the injury he might suffer, or even about the consequence they would give him. Iso, maybe. Or suspension. If he had thought about it, he'd have snorted. What an absolute farce. As if not coming to school was a punishment! A lie in in the mornings. More time gaming. Sounds sweet. Closer to the edge, closer. Allow a little wobble before he danced back to relative safety away from the edge. The way they drew in sharp breaths, let out small screams. Hands clamped over mouths, or else fluttering, pleading. The Head of English had a booming voice, a bristling auburn beard, and a strict manner. The younger kids were openly frightened of him. Surely he could persuade the boy down on to safer footing? The boy wore naked delight on his face, and drank in every gaze fixed on him, and it felt there were more every moment. Buoying him up, perhaps, on that wave of approval, or at least noticement. This was like being class clown, but squared. Even in the grey January chill, he felt toasty warm. He would like to bottle this feeling! He shook his hair out of his eyes and danced close to the edge again. His foot slipped on a wet leaf, and over he went. Glee was swapped for surprise at the turn of events. His arms windmilled, almost comic in their desperation to find purchase. It shouldn't have killed him, not at this height. It should have just broken his legs. But he did land awful funny. He's all splayed out at awkward angles, blood (and this might be the most concerning part) seeping out around his shaggy head. It took a moment for the screaming to start.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
The Great Migration: A Village's Journey to New Hope
The small village of Everdon sat nestled in the shadow of an icy mountain range. For generations, the villagers had lived harmoniously, surrounded by snow-covered peaks and glistening glaciers. Everdon was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the pace of life was dictated by the seasons and the ebb and flow of nature’s icy grip.
By Mary Emmanuel2 years ago in Fiction
