short story
The Red, Blue, and Yellow Plane
“Hey chief, where have you been flying these days?” Dawn spoke on the landline to her former coworker. Dawn, a woman in her seventies, retired years ago. “Remember when you gave me the one-time pass to borrow a plane, no questions asked? Remember when I said I’ll never ask for that? Tomorrow night I need five of the biggest planes from Earth Airlines, and I could use some help flying them.”
By Sone Kramer4 years ago in Earth
The Sacred Scroll
Kayleb could start to feel his dark blonde hair start to go slick with oil and sweat. His brain was now foggy with the humidity in the amazon air, water drops clinging to the silvery moustache that had began to grow on his upper lip. The cave was dark, damp, had an earthy smell to it like iron. He had read about the caves in the amazon before, dreamed about coming here and exploring them since his childhood. There had been traces of a humans living in these caves long ago , enticing his mind with what had once been. He had studied them extensively , digging up every article he could on them. The animals of the rainforest drew him to the chase, especially the Scarlett Maccaw. He had revelled in it's beauty - and what it had symbolized , bringing healing through it's colour and light.
By Dawn Michele4 years ago in Earth
A Visit from Scarlet
For someone who has been called “the most indecisive person” by almost all who are close to me, I have always been set on becoming a therapist. Sure enough, it has turned out to be the most rewarding decision of my life. Every day I sit with new people from all walks of life, none of which are like the last, and hear entire life stories from the original source. I get to witness first-hand how their mind works, how they think and form thoughts, and how they communicate those thoughts to me. Though I love it dearly, it’s unfortunately not all rainbows and butterflies. It can be quite taxing to hear of all the troubles people face each day, and it takes years of training and mental exercise to leave those thoughts at work, so it doesn’t affect your own life and happiness. That being said, there are some stories that are just too sad, that are just too depressing, that no matter how much training you have, you can’t seem to forget. For me, I will never forget the story of Scarlet.
By Nate Donlan4 years ago in Earth
Notion
Come and take a walk with me? Allow yourself to drift and wander a little, beyond the stories that we usually and so frequently tell ourselves. We’ll soften the resistance as we go, blurring and blending the once rigid vicinities of your mind. I wonder what will seep in through the emergence of new cracks in your perception, now that they are not so cautiously guarded. Why do we defend ourselves, in order to stay active within a story that we would not have chosen to write for ourselves, do we have a choice? That’s just reality right? Sure, it’s nice to see, hear, smell, taste and touch... but how do you really want to feel?
By Astral Skiies4 years ago in Earth
The Lute Player's Wife
“Georgia, they're ready for you!” The stage assistant peeked her head into my dressing room where my makeup artist Cierra was putting the finishing touches on my eye shadow. I smiled weakly still feeling nervous but I slid my body from the salon chair and followed the stage assistant to the production area. Cameras were everywhere and a big bright stage setting with two blue sofa chairs and a blue ottoman in the middle. I sat in my seat and rubbed the top of my necklace. A silver cross necklace with silver jewels running down the middle. A Christmas gift from my late husband. Reid Pho.
By Chri'Auna Brown4 years ago in Earth
The Quiet Mr. Curtis
The rosary in her hands comforted her a little, but just a little. Lucy Chow finally unclasped her hands and put the rosary in a little plastic bag near her computer. She was done asking Mother Mary to send help. Mary must be totally busy, and has forgotten all about me, Lucy grumbled to herself as she helped herself to another cup of percolated coffee.
By C C Farley4 years ago in Earth
A Tale of Two Fledglings
I grace each tree with a flash of color as I soar through the forest. Lowering my tail, I use my wings to oppose the current, slowing down, grasping a branch with my feet. The rest of my flock arrive, and we settle down after a morning of foraging by the river bank.
By Anjula Evans4 years ago in Earth
The River
Drip. Drip, Drip. Rain dangles from heavy branches of a tree to be released into the river below. Drip. Drip. Drip. Tiny droplets, consumed by a constantly moving fluid being, always heading in the same direction. As they fall into its eddy, reunited with the Source, droplets get carried away on the rhythmic currents. Clouds overhead have broken apart, to reveal sunbeams casting sparkling glares on the water’s serene surface. Deer shake themselves and drink from the cool river, hooves sliding on a muddy bank. Taking the next step closer to their salvation, murky liquid swirls around in the same way a person might stir cream into a cup of coffee. The constant babbling against stones sings through the forest. Steady wings cut through the air.
By Dannielle Nelson4 years ago in Earth
