Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
G-Is for String
Thirteen years in the exotic dance, strip world may have left me with emotional and physical scars. But, what it mostly left me with were stories. Tons of them. Funny, sad, frightening, and eye-opening. Being the only stripper I knew who traveled with a Remington portable typewriter in my costume case, I recorded many along the way. The rest I know by heart.
Tina D'AngeloPublished about a year ago in HumansLight and Dark
There are no shadows in the dark but even with the smallest spark the shadows come and swirl and dance and we are forced to take a stance and to decide what's wrong what's right what's free for all what's worth the fight what's true what's false what's neither nor what to believe what to ignore and who are they and who we are with whom to play with whom to spar and then the spark goes puff and out and leaves us in a state of doubt about the things that could have been and who is who and who is in what we should not and what we might - so, really, do we need the light?
Vadim KaganPublished about a year ago in PoetsSaving The Puritan Sea Monster
*** Content/Trigger Warning. This is a story of historical fictional that does contain disturbing details about treatment of women in the 1600's. Reference to childbirth, still birth and infanticide are also referenced and may not be suitable for some readers. ***
C. H. RichardPublished about a year ago in FictionThe Future of the Past
Kaiden O’Neal steps through the portal. The strange sights and sounds of Leonding in 1902 Austria leave him disoriented, but only for a moment. The time weaver is no stranger to jumping between the fabric of spacetime and leaving the marvels and technology of 2135 far behind. If he fails in this task, though, this will be his last mission, and no future will exist to which he might return.
My Haiku Issue
Introduction When Vocal gave us the High-Ku challenge I was quite pleased, but a Japanese friend informed me that what I was writing was not actually haiku but in fact senryū. You can read about the two forms in the links below, but a haiku should include a preferably implied seasonal reference and a “cutting word” to redirect the poem. Vocal completely ignored this in the requirements and when I checked, I don't think one of the winning entries was a true haiku, though I may be wrong.
Mike Singleton - MikeydredPublished about a year ago in ConfessionsA Terrible Thing
“If walls could talk,” I heard her whisper absently, as she sat on the top stair of my sagging porch under a dark sky. Barefoot, jeans rolled up past her ankles, Diana fixed her gaze on a horizon she couldn't see and barely blinked at all. A single cigarette sat alongside a book of matches from Frankie's Pub and Pizzeria on the buckled gray boards beside her. No bugs chirruped or buzzed in the night; no nocturnal scavengers rattled around the rusty trashcans out back. The big yellow dog rested her head on her paws and silently stared out into the same abyss as Diana, eyes glistening.
Marsha SinghPublished about a year ago in FictionHow to Engage Your Readers and Subscribers
Vocal is proud to be the network you chose for sharing your stories and finding your audience, but we know that engaging with that audience may not be second nature for you. With the help of these three strategies, you can bolster the connection between you and your audience to keep them coming back for more.
Vocal TeamPublished about a year ago in ResourcesThe Call of the Clouds
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I watched them form out of thin air as the sun began to set and a low humming sound vibrated through the air. Something between a soft lullaby you might sing to a new born and the low buzzing of a disturbed beehive. It began to grow in volume as the clouds changed colour. Covering the entire skyline in an ominous dark purple, eclipsing the sunset.
Donna Fox (HKB)Published about a year ago in FictionA Titanic Error
"STOP!!!" I screamed. Well, it felt like a scream in my mind. It sounded more like a death rattle or a kid trying to gargle mouthwash for the first time.
Donna ReneePublished about a year ago in FictionThe Governor Dies
If walls could talk and tell the world what they saw, humans would behave with more transparency, and crime and corruption would disappear.
Robbie CheadlePublished about a year ago in FictionSun Enters the Gate of Pisces Season
Welcome to Pisces season! This is one of my favorite zodiac signs. I love them all, but with my Venus in Pisces and as a 1st house Pisces, I feel a particular connection to themes of this sign.
Jenna in the StarsPublished about a year ago in LongevityLost Island
Dani had lost count of the number of times she'd walked the dingy back hallways of the mall. She thought she knew every stain, each crack in the cheap tile floor, all of the exits and backdoors. Despite her supposed familiarity with the area, she had to admit it.
Bex JordanPublished about a year ago in PrideGlimmers Of The Forgotten
Glimmers of you ebb through the drowning Forgotten. Help, your eyes plead. Gone. *** Authors Note: Written with compassion for anyone living with dementia, whether supporting their loved ones or facing it themselves.
Caroline JanePublished about a year ago in PoetsFrozen Moments
When hearts can’t let go Monsters Made of Memories Just thought you should know
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about a year ago in PoetsChestnut Street
If walls could talk, lavish vowels and exquisite consonants at my disposal, I would use them to beg for your forgiveness. I would tell you how sorry I am for what transpired, what a fool I was to possess a gift so rare, only to mistreat it.
The Tarpit of the Train Station
The Tarpit of the Train Station On steel parallels and shallow earth the rats know life as it is: patterned, mildly
Johnathan RileyPublished about a year ago in PoetsAll You Leave Behind
If you were to ask me for a portrait painted with the finest of oils, I would render you with a metaphor instead and I would call you the ocean -
Loryne AndaweyPublished about a year ago in PoetsThe Hunger of Sea Glass
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Generations had grown on the foothills of Ambria and gazed in wonder of their choreography, humbled by the majesty of nature and beauty locked in an unending embrace. The dreamscape of twilight was an enduring reminder that all is as it was and always would be, a shining glimpse of eternity.
Call Me LesPublished about a year ago in FictionSubtle Karma
Once upon a time A king betrayed his queen Now sleeps eyes open
C. H. RichardPublished about a year ago in PoetsWhat is Ashwagandha?
“Nature is not our enemy, to be raped and conquered. Nature is ourselves, to be cherished and explored.” Terrence McKenna What Are Ashwagandha and Ayurveda?
Emily Marie ConcannonPublished about a year ago in Longevity