Young Adult
The Fading Colors of My Canvas
So smooth, so taut, the stretched canvas wore an air of inviting all color and creativity one could pour onto it, pure and untouched, full of promise of something great, fabulous to be born. The magnum opus, the reflection of life that I so longed to live—my dreams in colors spoke volumes of ambition, love, passion, with each strike bold and virile.
By Young Dreamer2 years ago in Fiction
The Reflection. AI-Generated.
James Langford rubbed his eyes as the soft morning light filtered through his apartment window. The city hummed below, another routine day waiting for him. He made his way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to shake off the remnants of a restless night. As he wiped the fog from the mirror, he noticed something off. His reflection was delayed by a heartbeat—a brief but unmistakable lag between his movements and the reflection’s response.
By Andzani Ashley2 years ago in Fiction
World in Tatters Ch. 46
Edwards silently leads me through the back alleys of the city, gradually taking me towards the outskirts. When we finally reach the main gate, Edwards takes me into the guard shack where Richard, Kiera, Artemis and Apollo are waiting for me, each with one hand cuffed to their chair.
By Kevin Barkman2 years ago in Fiction
The Mystery of Adam Hunter
Their shoes weren't quiet. They squeaked against the spotless floors as the rubber soles slipped slightly against the drab, spotted, white, white ceramic tiles. It's early in the morning. Between the rattling of the medical cart's worn-out wheel and their less-than-quiet approach, nurses Johnson and Howell woke up most of A-Wing.
By Jason Morton2 years ago in Fiction
The Last Party
The day I met Emma started like any other, but then again, my days always start the same way: a repetitive cycle of mundanity marred by the occasional oddity. This time, however, the oddity was Emma herself. I remember vividly how she appeared in the café like a burst of sunlight through a thick, gray fog.
By Eladeo Mallett2 years ago in Fiction
The Cup Stirs Itself
It was the year 1900. The storyteller, (ahem)...I mean, the Fortune Teller stared into the teacup with great concern. She swirled it this way, then that, tipped it a bit first to the right, then to the left, and lifted her head to stare at her client with a raised eyebrow at Miss Butter Tart in front of her. The young woman was all of 22 years old. Bright red curls piled on her head with a hairpiece, long skirt, gloves and fashionable bag. Her chaperone waited outside. Spoiled, indifferent, but not carefree - the word was not invented yet in the context of womanhood.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle2 years ago in Fiction
Three Ex-Yard Gnomes and a Homemade Pizza
Three yard gnomes named Jolly, Squally, and Polycarp lived on a shady front lawn. The lawn belonged to an old raisin-of-a-woman named Sadie O'Grady. Her name doesn't really matter though because this story is about the three yard gnomes. One day Squally squealed by exclaiming, "I'm terribly tired of this job, standing still as a statue all day on this boring, old, shady lawn! There is a whole wide world out there that we've just got to explore!”
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
KATE. AI-Generated.
Kate Harper had always dreamed of escaping her small town, where everyone knew everyone, and the pace of life felt slower than she wished. She spent her days working at the local bookstore and her evenings watching the sun set over the fields. But as summer approached, her dreams were about to take an unexpected turn.
By Okeke Anthony Onyedika2 years ago in Fiction
Love Express: A Journey Through the Unspoken Moments
It was one of those rainy evenings when the world seemed to move a little slower. The train station bustled with life as people rushed to catch their trains, their umbrellas dripping and shoes splashing in puddles. Among the crowd stood two strangers on opposite platforms. They had never met, never exchanged a word, yet something was about to change.
By William Henry2 years ago in Fiction
