Top Stories
New stories you'll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
This is not my room. Runner-up in Unreliable Challenge. Top Story - September 2024.
Date Unknown – Nobody will tell me This is not my room. There is sun outside The red trousers came to see me today. He held my… It is all… My fingers they are different. They have painted nails and notches and you can follow the grain of them to my wrist. He held my wrist once. His shy eyes darted to the ceiling.
By Rachel Robbins2 years ago in Fiction
Small Kindness Challenge Winners
J. Otis Haas, a Vocal stalwart, has his first Grand Prize challenge win with Portrait of a Finder of Lost Things, which takes our prompt and runs with it. Here is not one specific action, but an imagined sequence of actions that create a character, and therefore an idea of what the world might be like with such a person in it. From the detail of the Rolex to the twenty dollar bill dropped at an ATM, there’s something haunting in the narrator’s voice here. Well done.
By Vocal Curation Team2 years ago in Resources
Seeing and Not Seeing. Top Story - September 2024.
Another Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody… He was thinking of the same damn song every weekend now. The quarantine and the curfew were things he could get used to; there was a bit of luck in having a condo in the downtown core. At least it was in a part of town without his company's handiwork. It was a perfect example of cinema right in front of him (Hitchcock be damned), all silent and distant. So, he thought, I just needed to add a song.
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Chapters
Why Media Representation Matters . Runner-up in Represented Challenge. Top Story - September 2024.
My journey as an independant author began, at least in part, because I never saw myself represented in media. Oh, there were characters I loved, certainly. Some characters that I could relate to, a little, in one way or another.
By Natasja Rose2 years ago in Pride
Highway 91. Top Story - September 2024.
The newly paved Vermont asphalt rose and fell like the summer waves he used to watch as a boy growing up on the sea shell riddled shores of Cape Cod. Leaves, ablaze with New England’s one-of-a-kind rich autumn hues, descended from their cold branches and decorated their ascent up the mountain side. They twirled and danced across the quiet back road, morphing into faint red and orange tornadoes as Timothy’s Jeep shifted gears.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
