Stream of Consciousness
Lone Soldier
Where is this soldier going? Is he on a mission or simply out for a walk to think things through. He is alert to his surroundings and walking surefooted, but softly down this path that the upper epsilon has said has been cleared but one can never really be more careful. He knew he still had to lookout for booby traps for that headquarters report was a couple days old, so he continued to walk slowly and cautiously. His destination was a village where he was to pick up some intel concerning the upcoming mission his platoon was to accomplish.
By Mark Grahamabout 3 hours ago in Fiction
How Many Years?
Secret Society — Cards against normality prompt: Your hero has stumbled upon a dark conspiracy - or perhaps he's been part of it all along. Who runs the group? Is your hero vying for leadership, or is he a threat in some other way? How do group members identify each other? List some gestures, clothing or other signals they might use. If your hero tried to take it, what could go wrong? List rituals or practices that are special to the group. Is the group trying to expand, or remain exclusive? What might they do to protect their secrets?
By Denise E Lindquist6 days ago in Fiction
Entry #8 or The Phone Booth with Stella
I have this very unoriginal idea of what to write about next. A phone booth and five individual experiences. The conversations, cries, shouts, and laughs. The dogs that mark their territory over that time-old structure. The hunt for change in an Apple Pay world. The rust that creeps through the unsuspecting corners of the metallic plates that hold that booth up, year after year.
By Danielle Silva12 days ago in Fiction
Travel Suspense
Travel — Cards against normality prompt: A change of scenery can do wonders. Take your hero somewhere new. List three reasons your hero might need to leave town right now. Brainstorm four settings that would be challenging for your hero to navigate. If your hero could call home who would she call? What would she say? In the past, did your hero travel someplace particularly important to him? Is there a reason to go back now?
By Denise E Lindquist13 days ago in Fiction
I am Me; I am the Peacock
I Am Me I can be a chameleon. My unwed mother was raised by a strict Methodist preacher. To her credit, she chose me over her parents. Sadly, she was too young and couldn’t handle solo parenting (my father was never in the picture), so I was bounced around from one family member to another.
By Liz Montano14 days ago in Fiction
Choices
If you could see how each little lie drove the spikes edging my mask, deeper into my skin. I bite my tongue as the blood pools into there mask. Rivulets of red slowly filling the edifice- until I swallow my words, lips held tight in silence. The blood threatening to drowned me. Silence lest I drowned in the reality- the reality of the imbalance in my love and the destructive force of lies. I love you- i love your brunette hair bouncing in textured waves that I run my fingers through as I listen to you talk through the path going forward, do you realize it's a path that I can't follow you on- but you told me if I comment then you leave. My heart in your hands, the rhythmic thumping of it, echos in my panicked brain. And here I sit at the impossible precipice. If I be myself and tell you the truth- I lose you. So I don my mask for you again, so you don't leave. I'm that selfish. Selfish in my love. I love him. His warm arms and fragile heart. I love holding him, i love his range of emotion, his passion, his fire... If I hold your secrets I lose him. It all the pain all over again. So the mask goes on again. If she takes over then I can be here for you, quiet, loving, so in love with you. I drive the spikes into my face- knowing that it can never come off. My heart in your hand hemorrhage and I can feel the hollow spot in my chest. And I betray you by telling him because I love him- and I can't carry a lie to him. My heart sitting in his hands I can feel the frosty air burn as he pulls away. His words cold, his heart broken. I'd hold all the pieces, but he would never choose me. You would never choose me. So I bleed instead. And I kill myself over again to keep you- I silently weap, standing right where he pulls away because I am not his person. But the mask goes on and I swallow the pain cause why would I choose me either.
By Maili Paul15 days ago in Fiction
The Final Words. Top Story - October 2026.
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 Traylor24 days ago in Fiction
