A. J. Schoenfeld
Bio
I only write about the real world. But if you look close enough, you'll see there's magic hiding in plain sight everywhere.
Achievements (9)
Stories (103)
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Romantic Picnic For Two
The evening air hung heavy and hot, unseasonably warm for April. As the sun sank down, hovering just over the mountains in the distance, its angry glare blinded Tanya as she walked westward. Cursing herself for forgetting her sunglasses, she shifted the weight of the pack on her shoulders, letting a rivulet of sweat slip down her spine. Her feet angrily protested her choice to place fashion over function as the leather of her sandals chafed the back of her heel and sides of her toes. But Tanya didn't stop or slow. She moved forward, watching the trees in the distance grow closer with each step.
By A. J. Schoenfeld11 days ago in Fiction
One Hundred
Once upon a time a young girl fell deeply in love with the written word. She read until her brain burst open and stories began pouring out into notebooks, on napkins, and the back of homework. But time passed, life overwhelmed the girl and writing took a backseat as she focused on her growing brood of children. She never forgot her dream and often still scribbled stories in stolen moments of quiet. She often wondered if she could ever be a successful writer. Then, one beautiful day, she found Vocal. The girl, her stories, and Vocal lived happily ever after.
By A. J. Schoenfeld14 days ago in Writers
Field of the Fallen. Top Story - February 2026.
Sunlight danced softly across the frost-crusted fields, making the little blades of grass sparkle like emeralds. The faraway chirrup of a songbird was the only disruption to the quiet of the morning. An icy chill, the last vestige of the dying winter, clung to the air, settling in a thick white mist at the far side of the open field. The heavy stench of decay hung in that mist, punctuation by the sharp tang of freshly spilled blood.
By A. J. Schoenfeld22 days ago in Fiction
A Winter Devotional. Winner in The Ritual of Winter Challenge. Top Story - December 2025.
Large, fluffy white flakes swirl slowly to the ground in a gentle, choreographed waltz. Safe and warm inside my house, wrapped in a cozy blanket on the velvet couch, I watch in silence through the huge front window as everything becomes white. The world, time itself, lessens its pace to match the cadence of the first true snowfall.
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 months ago in Humans
Shut In. Top Story - December 2025.
It's upstairs at the end of a long dark hall, an undescript door caked in enough dust it blends into the faded wallpaper. The light doesn't quite reach that distant end of the corridor so I rarely venture down that far. Every so often, I'll pause before entering one of the other well-used rooms and glance toward it as if drawn by some long ago memory. But my tired eyes never linger long and the thought passes just as quickly as it started and I go on with my day.
By A. J. Schoenfeld3 months ago in Fiction
