Young Adult
The Chronomancer's Dilemma
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village nestled between rolling hills and a serene river, lived a gifted chronomancer named Elara. Her deep auburn hair and emerald eyes held a secret, for she was the last in a long line of time-weavers who had kept the flow of time in balance.
By Kims gathoni3 years ago in Fiction
The Night Librarian
In the quiet corner of the library stacks, where the very essence of the books seemed to breathe, the librarian embarked on her nightly routine. With a rhythmic squeak, she pushed a trolley laden with grimoires and mystical texts toward their designated spot in the dark recesses. She spoke to the books, admonishing them, "It's not as if any of you are chained. Behave yourselves!"
By Kims gathoni3 years ago in Fiction
Belisten
Stop talking, she had said to me while swirling anxiously in circles on her black, leather computer chair. It was covered with a faux fur blanket which she had received as a gift one Christmas; it was something familiar and safe. Her vulnerability was obvious; her all too familiar ways were especially reflective in her warm, brown, almond shaped eyes which barely met mine. She skirted around our conversation. What do you want me to say? I didn't respond with words, yet my mother heart was on high alert, absorbing each syllable as she mumbled, noting her agitated movements, listening with a racing pulse to her words while my unbridled flashbacks of her childhood giggles stabbed through my well-trodden heart. You never listen! I am listening; I feel I am poised, attentive and my dear, cherished, only child how I wish you could feel the love I have for you, a love which will never die. Mom! I sit more attentively. What the hell am I doing wrong here? My eyes are right on her, my mouth is shut, my body language is relaxed, (or is it?) and I am here, ready for whatever she has to say. Nervous, yes. Ill prepared for parenting a struggling adult entirely? Maybe. What can I do but take in her words, let them tumble around as if in the clothes dryer until they settle. Help me out here someone! I am lost as a Mom. Lost. Oh God. She stops swirling about and looks at me as if I can't possibly relate. I hate my life. What do you hate about your life? I try to verbalize my reply, to sound like a friend, a bit casual yet I resent my repressed tone. I am not loved for who I am; I am transgender, and Pappa walked out of my life! Are you daft Mom? You of all people should know how much it hurts to be alive, to be me, to not be wanted! I clear my throat, stand, and wrap my arms around her. I don't speak. I hold her face in my hands and look into her eyes with pure love. My pain is hers. I take her hands and lift them into the air with mine. For one moment we are one; I am familiar with listening to her emotions as they burst from her soul. I hear her sorrow, her plight, and in all my imperfections, I remain steady. Without quivering I select some words but stumble and don't say them. I am thinking, "always as far as time can take us, I am with you." Mom! What have I done now? Can we talk about something else? I let go of her, sit down, and pretend to look at a menu for Thai take-away laying on the coffee table. A few minutes slowly tick by; I look up as she wipes away a tear. I love you, Mom. Handing her the menu she quickly tosses it back. I want pizza; I hate Thai food. You of all people should know that. I do know this. I know so much about my beautiful, hurting loved one, yet I also know nothing at all. Can my love save her? I order pizza. I ask what she wants and she rolls her eyes and turns her back toward me. She has asked for the same pizza for twenty years. I order one large pizza with cheese. Just cheese. She swirls around to face me and blurts out, With olives! Surprised, I add them to the order. I don't know as much as I want about her. Olives? She never eats olives. I am sobbing inside wanting to soak up all her self loathing, stitch her wounds; I'd give anything to see her laugh or smile again. I want her to be happy. Mom? You're just staring at me like a zombie. Can you go now? Of course. I have filled her needs for this particular wave of melancholy. I stand again and kiss her cheek. Leaving her is always hard. Leaving her alone with all of her thoughts stings as I push through a smile. Talk tomorrow? I ask. I am twenty-six, not six Mom. Emphasizing the twenty she sighs and stands. She gives me a hug of reassurance, an unspoken contract that she won't harm herself. Enjoy your pizza. Opening her door for me she ushers me out. Thanks and goodbye, Mom.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Oliver's Honesty
Once upon a time in a small village called Brookside, there was an exceptional 8-year-old boy named Oliver. He was known for always telling the truth, and he had a unique way of showing honesty in a hundred different ways. This made him stand out from others, and his life was full of adventures, including one extraordinary event.
By Eyaquit Zaman Imran3 years ago in Fiction
The Forsaken-Part X
Father Rogers sat on a grand deck behind a mansion in the tropics. It was his first trip to the tropics since becoming an Archbishop, and Jeff was unnerved by the timing. Meeting one of the church’s most generous benefactors was a great honor, usually. In the case of Steven, being summoned was more daunting.
By Jason Morton3 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Sparkle the Starfish
Once upon a time, in the vibrant and colorful underwater world of Coral Cove, lived a curious little starfish named Sparkle. Sparkle was unlike any other starfish in the cove. While most of the starfish were content to stay in one place, Sparkle dreamed of exploring the vast ocean and discovering new wonders.
By Eyaquit Zaman Imran3 years ago in Fiction
Black Wings
The thick, humid air vibrated with the sound of cicadas around the stagnant little pond. Two older gentlemen sat in lawn chairs near the bank, fishing poles in their hands and a cooler between them. Neither spoke a word. They simply sat and sipped on beer, occasionally reeling in their lines and recasting.
By C. Lea Roufley3 years ago in Fiction
Battling Guilt Part 2: Petra's Cousin Disappears
"Got your 'ID' ready?" Petra said, eyeing Thor as he nervously fumbled in his pocket to grab his wallet. "No. I'm not in a people mood tonight but I'm only going because of you. So if we get caught I'm going to resent you."
By dre.amerwithapen3 years ago in Fiction
World in Tatters Ch. 9
Once we leave Philip’s bar, I pull Alice down a nearby alleyway. “Are you really sure about Philip?” “Everything I told you in there is true. Philip has a complicated past, but every single one of the jobs I’ve worked with him, have been to help people. He helps get goods to people who can’t afford them. Goods that the Praetor keeps hoarded inside the walls. There are people here who rely on his help.”
By Kevin Barkman3 years ago in Fiction
