Stream of Consciousness
The Final Words
My time has come. After 114 years on this mortal coil, I can feel it deep down in my bones. I’m bedridden and unable to move. My eyesight is slipping as is my hearing. I’ve been in this bed for so long that I welcome this eternal transition that’s about to happen to me.
By Dean Traylor3 days ago in Fiction
Too Much of A Good Thing
Author’s Note: These prompts are my attempt at working on writing fiction. I may not always follow the cards exactly, but it is me writing fiction. My first few attempts at fiction happened five years ago on Vocal Media, and on medium.com .
By Denise E Lindquist5 days ago in Fiction
May God Have Mercy On Your Soul
His breath was a steady rhythm of in and out as he stared intently at the high-definition screen sitting on the desk in front of him. His right finger tightened on the cold, metallic trigger slowly, he could feel a low hum in the air. She was just sitting there on her couch reading a book. Digital scopes on screen showed him that the weapon was aimed directly at her heart. His finger paused, readings said the weapon wasn't at 100% capacity yet. Heat waves began to show clearly in the air around her. It was even visible on his screen, but she only turned a page in her book and continued reading.
By Lolly Vieira7 days ago in Fiction
Claustrophobia
You awaken with no memory of the events prior. You shimmy on your back, dragging yourself backward through this little tunnel. Your claustrophobia sets in as you feel your chest contract. You produce little, stifled breaths, trying not to hyperventilate as you proceed shakily toward a dim light, one shoulder blade at a time. You perceive it to be a few yards away. You think of nothing else but getting to that light, emerging from this dark and suffocating crawlspace, however you ended up in it. As you inch backward, the walls form a bottleneck, and you are forced to pull your elbows in tightly to your chest. The passage constricts further, until your shoulders are abated on either side. You feel yourself beginning to lose control, indeed, to hyperventilate, as the pace of your breathing escalates. You feel a panic building as it begins to overtake you. In the distance, your fingers find the edge of the tunnel. You rip yourself free.
By Noah Husband9 days ago in Fiction
Chasing The Fairytale
You always wanted to be in love. You came from a broken home, witnessing first hand that true love really was only in fairytales. You watched helplessly as both of your parents struggled with addiction. Your dad abandoned you when you were 6 and after a short reconnection, he died, succumbing to his demons, before you were 13.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden9 days ago in Fiction
