Short Story
A Quiet Stroll
A Quiet Stroll D. A. Ratliff I peeked out the lacy curtains covering the parlor window, watching Bishop Strong walk toward his waiting car. Good riddance. I didn’t think I could bear another minute with that stuffy, pompous man. I also didn’t think I could stand another moment with the hideous lacy curtains. I am a man of simplicity, and frilly things annoy me. I chuckled. Perhaps I am as pompous as the good bishop.
By D. A. Ratliff2 years ago in Fiction
Lemons
You can't find the lemons. You're in a medium size grocery store. Big enough that they should have lemons. Not so big that you shouldn't be able to find them. But you can't. You've done a few laps around the other produce. This wall has lettuces. This wall has bowls of pre-chopped fruit. This bin's got potatoes. But no lemons.
By Jason Edwards2 years ago in Fiction
Too Late For White Flags
The last glimmer of light diminished in the sky above, on the eve of war. Thom and Gwen looked at each other for the last time, free from the blood, death and misery. The screech of devastating machines of their creation eviscerated the land ahead.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
A Symphony of Colors
In the tranquil village of Elderton, where rolling hills met expansive fields, lived a blind boy named Sam. Despite the darkness that enveloped his world, Sam possessed a gift that illuminated his life in ways unseen by others. His other senses were exceptionally keen, and he had a remarkable ability to translate the melodies of nature into a vivid tapestry of imagination. Every morning, Sam would sit by the large window of his modest cottage, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. To him, the sun was not just a distant star; it was a glowing sphere that embraced him with a gentle, radiant touch. The wind, too, was a source of endless fascination. It carried whispers from the distant hills and secrets from the nearby forest. The rustling leaves and the chirping birds became the notes of a grand symphony that played exclusively for Sam. Each sound was a stroke on the canvas of his mind. In Sam’s imagination, the world was a kaleidoscope of vivid colors and textures. The sky, he imagined, was an ever-changing mural, filled with swirling patterns of deep purples and bright pinks during sunset. The daytime sky was a brilliant expanse of azure, speckled with fluffy clouds that drifted lazily. He envisioned the grass underfoot as a lush carpet of emerald green, soft and welcoming to his touch, while the flowers were an array of dazzling hues—crimson reds, sunny yellows, and serene blues—that filled the air with their delicate perfumes. Sam’s dreams were not confined to the natural world. He imagined bustling markets in the village square, where the aroma of fresh bread and spices mingled with the lively chatter of vendors and townsfolk. The marketplace was a symphony of sounds and smells, each stall offering its own unique melody. He pictured the village houses as quaint cottages with thatched roofs, each one brimming with warmth and cheer. Despite his rich internal world, Sam was aware that others saw the world differently. His parents and the villagers often marveled at his descriptions of the world and were touched by his ability to find beauty in the unseen. One day, a renowned artist named Lydia visited Elderton, seeking inspiration for her next masterpiece. Hearing of Sam’s extraordinary imagination, she was intrigued and decided to meet him. Lydia arrived at Sam’s cottage, and after a warm introduction, she listened intently as Sam described his vision of the world. She was captivated by the way he described the interplay of colors and the harmony of sounds. Lydia asked if she could try to capture his vision on canvas. Sam, thrilled by the idea, eagerly agreed. For days, Lydia worked tirelessly, using Sam’s descriptions as her guide. She painted the swirling colors of the sunset sky, the verdant carpet of grass, and the vibrant tapestry of flowers. She captured the essence of the bustling marketplace and the warmth of the village houses, trying to translate Sam’s intricate auditory and tactile experiences into a visual form. When the painting was finally completed, Lydia invited the villagers to a special exhibition. As they entered the gallery and viewed the painting, they were mesmerized. The artwork was not just a depiction of the village but a representation of Sam’s rich, imaginative world. It was a beautiful blend of colors and forms that evoked a deep sense of wonder and emotion. The villagers marveled at how Lydia had brought Sam’s internal vision to life. They saw the village through Sam’s eyes, experiencing the world not just as a place of sights but as a symphony of sensory experiences. The painting became a testament to the power of imagination and the beauty of seeing the world through a different lens. Sam’s story and Lydia’s painting became a cherished part of Elderton’s history. The painting was displayed in the village hall, serving as a reminder that true beauty is not always visible but can be felt and experienced in countless ways. It celebrated the idea that the world’s splendor lies not only in what we see but in how we perceive and interpret it. Sam continued to live in Elderton, and his vibrant imagination remained a source of inspiration for everyone around him. His ability to transform the intangible into a vivid and beautiful vision showed that the essence of the world is not confined to sight alone. His story taught the villagers that sometimes, the most profound beauty is found in the heart and mind, where imagination knows no bounds.
By Young Dreamer2 years ago in Fiction
Paranoia is a Rorschach Test. Content Warning.
Walked out of Janssen Cilag's re-edit of Jim's World, saw the man in the trench coat again. It's Seattle, it's fall, it's cold and rainy, it's okay to wear a trench coat, it's a city one ninth the population of New York, go get a coffee, it's okay, everything's okay.
By Jason Edwards2 years ago in Fiction
