Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Remembering the rink
If you were there, you’ll never forget it. For decades, Durham Ice Rink was at the heart of the city’s social life. From Friday night ice discos to crowds roaring on the Wasps every Sunday, not to mention a proud history of figure skating and speed skating, the riverside rink was the place to be.
Andy PottsPublished 4 days ago in ArtHunting Men
There were three reasons to play Manhunt and none of them were winning. The first was sometimes, when the whole neighborhood played and not just my cousins, if the right kid was on my team, I got to practice kissing. The right kid changed all the time and I wanted to change, too. When he played basketball, I wore high tops. If he skateboarded on the cul-de-sac, I clipped a chain on my wallet. It jangled while we ran, but that was good: it made him want to keep me still.
The Goldilocks Paradox
To mock free will is to mock love! It can be made no clearer: Turn away!—away!—from the mirror And look inside—beyond—above!
C. Rommial ButlerPublished about 15 hours ago in PoetsThe Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
Richard WeberPublished 2 days ago in HumorSecond Glance
Butterflies can’t compare To the ocean– . A gravity deeper than the sea Pulled in toward the earth . When you look at me
Touching the Sky
Back in 2020 (yes, THAT 2020), I took my very first steps towards becoming an international traveler. I was 25 years old, and up to this point, the furthest I'd ever traveled alone from my home state of New Jersey without my family was to West Virginia.
Emily Marie ConcannonPublished a day ago in WanderDinowars: Triceratop Strikes Back
Eh, what’s up long neck. If this rap battle was a car crash then you just entered the wrong wreck. You wanna fight? Well come and get it boy. You can’t handle the Triceratop ya tall skinny boy.
Joe PattersonPublished a day ago in PoetsMaster's Piece
_____________ you draw me into you erasing parts you say don't work reworking pieces you say don't fit __ you paint
Christy MunsonPublished 10 days ago in PoetsMy Book is Published 🥳 🙌 🎊🙌🎊🙌🎊🙌🎊🙌🎊🙌🎊
I have never been so excited to share news with you all… 🥹 (which in itself will explain my most recent lengthy absence!).
Kayleigh Fraser ✨Published a day ago in WritersThe Edge of Extinction
Sitting on the edge of extinction, knowing that I am just a humble speck in the asteroid of humanity, I can't help but wonder
Cathy holmesPublished 3 days ago in PoetsI Am Grateful For So Many Things
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to experience _________. Rupi Kaur's Gratitude Writing Prompts I am grateful that I had the opportunity to experience my children growing up to be kind and loving human beings, that are raising families and work in areas that are making a difference.
Denise E LindquistPublished 2 days ago in WritersVale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
Matthew FrommPublished 5 days ago in FictionForced Compliance Not Necessary
Some people knew this would happen. The chips in our heads, I mean. Everyone laughed. Isn't that funny? The crazy part: even the conspiracy nuts had a mobile phone. Everyone walked around with the "chip" glued to their hand, eyes glued to chip.
L.C. SchäferPublished 3 days ago in FictionSmartystan
Rain didn’t stop Mala. Swaddling for Edgar covered the baby boy’s body and she held her other son’s, Burton, six-year-old hand. The mud, muck, and mire didn’t hinder her from staying on course with her mission. From Pennsylvania, they all trekked to get closer and closer to land that was never promised but simply implied. Each step produced more mud caked around her sneakers. She didn’t care. Her rucksack provided them protein packs to put into plastic bottles and nuts and berries and dried meats to keep their muscles in good health. Water hydrated. She rested. The baby had been asleep the entire time that she had started her journey and her eldest son remained silent throughout the excursion as well.
Skyler SaundersPublished 3 days ago in ChaptersThe Eidolon
The rain pattered on the sidewalk in a steady drizzle, pooling below the curb. The veiled mist of night obscured the way ahead, only being pierced by the high beams of the occasional passing car.
Chéri
Doe eyes small nose lips red perfect would be said, What a pleasant beauty, must've been blessed. Dancing fireflies couldn't compete, the fire burnt
The problem with being a nice person
Who would have thought that being a nice person could be problematic. The majority of people would tell you that’s what they want to be or at least want those around them to be, but as it turns out, what we want and what we say we want are worlds apart. I won't stress or ramble on about how I would like things to be, but I’ll just analyze why this is, I am not sure either if a solution is even possible.
real JemaPublished 3 days ago in ConfessionsVocal & my relationship to publishing traditionally
Ever since my small writing beginnings, when I started writing on Vocal in February 2021, I had been in a truly terrible slump & funk when it came to my writing. I had so many unfinished projects, ideas, half finished manuscripts and first chapters that were going nowhere.
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 4 days ago in MotivationWhere the fault lies
An acrostic piece for my poem-a-day challenge that has become more of a poem-mostly-every-day thing. It is what it is, lol!
Heather HublerPublished 3 days ago in PoetsThe Longest Language Journey Back
When you have a godawful experience for years (perhaps French lessons) and need to write about it as part of the healing process and already you feel parts of your cognitive machinery trying to “clean it up” (guess it’s French lessons) for public viewing by default since it’s likely to make some toes curl up (sorry, but definitively French lessons.)
The Dani WriterPublished 7 days ago in Confessions