Stream of Consciousness
You Can Call Me AI...
Note: for the Challenge, I'm using the following piece by Jasmine Aguilar: Reason why it was chosen: we are living with Artificial Intelligence, and there are many concerns that it could take over and even destroy us (many of these concerns come from the very creators of such technology). I thought that I should approach this with a sense of humour, referencing one of my favourite nonsensical Paul Simon songs (see the link below...and pay attention to the lyrics).
By Kendall Defoe about 5 hours ago in Fiction
Hippity-Hoppity-Boom
I don’t know what I expected to happen this morning when I got out of bed, but it sure wasn’t what happened. Let me clarify that. It was Independence Day. I was prepared for the normal parades, fireworks, and celebrating. The way the day would unfold was a complete shock to me, though. Really, any day is a surprise for any of us.
By Mother Combs2 days ago in Fiction
spring has sprung (in a flowerbed of lonely, empty stems)
It’s the first day of spring here in Wellingville, but for Merryrose, it’s just another day. The morning breeze tickles her nose as she steps outside with her nose up high, her sleek, small purse slung over her slender shoulder. Her heels strike against the concrete like hammers against stone, as if she’s trying to break the pavement underneath her weight.
By angela hepworth2 days ago in Fiction
Christmas In July
David scratched his temple, lips pursed, before taking another sip of cold coffee. From the nearby window, he heard the first harbingers of Spring chirp away and knew if he opened said window, he’d catch a waft of petrichor mixed with the Russian Sage he planted three years back. It was undoubtedly the start of Spring and yet here he was, staring into the eyes of the little ghost dog Halloween decoration sitting on the mantle. The thing was undoubtedly adorable, as Halloween decorations went, with its pointy ears and little trick-or-treat bucket, but he thought it was packed up with the rest of the decorations, because, as he firmly established, it was Spring. He hadn’t lost it yet. He remembered her ordering it; a memento mori of their first pup. In the moment, it seemed a little fucked up, but that decoration made sure he never forgot little Artemis.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 days ago in Fiction
Bombing Nagasaki
You Are Here challenge: Prompt - Write a story entirely in second person that puts the reader somewhere they aren't supposed to be. Second person puts the reader inside the story. You don't watch someone else cross a line. You do. Write a story entirely in second person that puts "you" somewhere you aren't supposed to be. Maybe you've wandered into the wrong room, shown up where you weren't invited, crossed a boundary you didn't know was there, or found yourself in a situation you have no business being part of. Wherever you end up, make the second-person perspective matter. Use "you" to close the distance between the reader and the story, and make that feeling of being somewhere you shouldn't be impossible to shake.
By Denise E Lindquist3 days ago in Fiction
Stitch. Out of Season
After four weeks of trying to stitch herself back into a life she barely remembered, Sara Foxgrave starts to realize that whatever followed her home isn’t done with her. Maine is supposed to be safe. Normal. Predictable. But when a summer flower blooms in the dead of October, Sara learns that reality has no intention of staying in its lane.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Fiction
Summerween...What?
Alright, so this piece is inspired by the following writing prompt: Write a story about something appearing, happening, or returning at exactly the wrong time of year. Interesting topic, but I have something fun in mind. Might be a tad... odd though. Well, you asked for it! Please enjoy,
By Rain Dayze8 days ago in Fiction
