Young Adult
Freddy the FOX 🦊in "Being SNEAKY Sucks"
Once upon a time, in a cozy little forest, lived a group of animal friends who loved playing games together. They would often gather to play hide-and-seek, tag, and other fun games. However, there was one animal in their group who loved to be sneaky - a sly little fox named Freddy. Freddy would always try to cheat and win the games by being sneaky, which made his friends upset.
By Random Finds Today3 years ago in Fiction
Nightmare Scenario
The time read 2:02. Blinding lights filled the room as my eyes attempted to adjust. Beeps sounded out from all around. An older lady dressed in what seemed to be a bright polka dotted pink outfit came into the room, smiling from ear to ear.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet3 years ago in Fiction
The Last Hope
The world was dying. The once-thriving cities now lay in ruins, and the few people who remained were struggling to survive in a world that was quickly becoming uninhabitable. The sun beat down relentlessly, scorching the earth and turning the few remaining sources of water into stagnant pools of disease. The air was thick with dust and smoke, and every breath was a struggle.
By M. Bilal Ahmed3 years ago in Fiction
Memory in a Bottle
The flowers are breathtaking. Mummy will love them. I slide them, one stalk after the other into the empty perfume bottle I found in the bottom drawer, along with the other things she didn't throw away. Daddy said mummy was too sentimental; she never threw out anything. “For the memories, she says. But tell me, what memory can a wrinkled piece of paper, broken jewelry and empty bottles possibly hold?” “Nana,” he told me always, “ Tell your mother that she can't hold on to things this way. It's not good for her.” I'd love to tell him to follow his own advice, now. It's not good for him either. I fill the bottle with water and the ghost of a fragrance wafts up my nose. My eyes fill and I blink them away. She wore this fragrance everywhere, on everything, in suffocating proportions. Even daddy understood that it was necessary for her. It was the same one her mother had worn before her. “It keeps me close to her,” she explained to me on one of those nights when her body wanted sleep and her mind wanted to dwell. “She applied henna every week, made her hair every other day and poured this perfume into her bath water. You smelled her before you saw her. She suffocated everyone with it!” “Like you suffocate us with it!” Mummy laughed and even the breeze paused to listen. It was one of the few times she openly discussed her mother. I never got to meet the woman. A lot of what I know about her is from stories daddy told me and Aliyu's little snatches of memory. She was a feisty lady way ahead of time. The first woman to ride a motorcycle in their village and the first to deal her brother-in-law a much deserved black eye. She was also the first person mummy was forced to let go of. Daddy said it changed her, as if a part of her soul went with her mother. What remained kept her alive every way she could. She preserved every memory and kept all items that didn't go to charity. Her perfumes, some ceramic plates from her wedding gifts, a few pictures, her jewelry box, her well-worn Quran and her prayer mat. All these aside the plates and the Qur’an were kept in the bottom drawer of her vanity. The plates stayed on the dining table where they served as centrepieces. Aliyu took the Qur’an and glued its torn pages back together. He had grandma for the first five years of his life and loved her fiercely. He had me for seventeen. I wipe the bottle down one last time and place it on the window sill, beside a small wooden box. Nestled among strings of beads, old scrunchies, plastic bangles, dried flowers and empty lip gloss containers, are pictures. From when I was a baby in frills and flounces, a tween in plaid skirts and scruffy boots. I fish out the latest, taken just months ago. I'm in rubber wellingtons and the old t-shirt I borrowed from Aliyu, proudly holding up two small tomatoes. They were the first things that I grew that did not die. These orchids are the second. Although, I didn't get to keep them alive. Mummy did. That was her way of keeping me alive. I slide the picture underneath the bottle. It's not much but it'll do. Orchids in a bottle, this is my way of getting her to let me go. Th
By Sherifah Salihu 3 years ago in Fiction
Say No To Drugs
I know I'm not the only one that's had this happen to him, and I can't be. I'm sure some of you know what I'm talking about. That moment they hit and you realize something's off. The moment you realize it's not just a bad trip, and what you took has gone bad. You know, like expired antibiotics or Tylenol. For most of my adult life, I did little more than smoke weed with the occasional. You know, acid was my preference, but I wouldn't shy away from some mushrooms if they were easier to find. Three months ago I felt the urge to have another spiritually lifted night, as I tend to call it. So I call up the guy I usually talk to when acquiring my vision quest materials, and he told me something strange. Hey, Bert, I. I don't work tomorrow, so I thought, I'd make my night a little special. Do you have anything available?
By Corey Turner3 years ago in Fiction
ALL IN TIME
A scrawny ten year old trudged across an open farmyard dragging a bucket behind her. She was dressed in a loose flowery oversized gown that fell almost to her ankles. A brown untidy hat hid a mass of rich brown hair with tendrils escaping to frame an angelic face that needed a good scrubbing. Hiking up her dress to reveal worn out boots, she climbed a well and stood astride it to draw water. Her father couldn't afford a pulley — amongst other things.
By Chidimma Eneye3 years ago in Fiction
