Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Key To Mirah
I still relive the vibration of the alarm reverberating through the city walls, before the sun even had an opportunity to flicker on what was left of their freedom. Father always advised me I never had to fret about the attainment that was ahead of me, like the others, though I never really understood what he meant until that painstaking night, bolting out of bed, petrified of the commotions besieging us.
By Candice Vega5 years ago in Fiction
True Colors
When Sienna was born, she was merely yellow-brown. Her furless skin matched the rough clay of the canyon walls where her family lived, and as she toddled, naked, it was nearly impossible to find her. Slowly, as she grew in the warm sunlight of the canyon, the sun’s rays turned her skin to a golden, rich caramel-like color, and her fur grew in to match. It was then that she was named - Sienna, a lush burnt orange that glowed with each sunset and sunrise. She could be found teetering on a ledge, much to her parents’ dismay, when the first morning rays hit, raising her tiny spindly arms upward.
By rani Jayakumar5 years ago in Fiction
Keepers of the Heart
August 1 2016, 9:19pm Father Del spoke to his children at the dinner table, “Our ancestors passed down tales from generation to generation, and today I share with you children the prophecy as it has been shared to me.” Father Del Harper was a tall man of medium complexion, his eyes sharp and slice right through you seeing the very depths of your self. His smile warm and violent, which fit his demeanor the way he remained cool and calm what seemed to be all the time. He stood with long lanky arms with what had to be mittens attached to them for hands the were so big and strong. He was one of the thin but unnaturally strong types.
By Charles Walton5 years ago in Fiction
Mixed Drinks
On Ladies nights in New Orleans, hundreds of single women flock to infamous Bourbon Street Bars in search of free drinks and hopefully meeting Mr. Right. Cheap drinks tend to bring out even cheaper men also on the prowl to find Mrs. Right Now. Copious amounts of well brand liquid courage can help turn seemingly innocent flirtations into a night of drunken sloppy sex which is a guaranteed nasty hangover covered in regret. The long walk of shame is time to reflect on what happened and vow to never partake in such festivities at least until the following week. This is exactly what Patrick is counting on. Patrick is an attractive male in his early thirties, extremely charming and loves to take advantage of drunk girls. He calls himself the Bushwolfe. He knows ever bartender in the French Quarter but never hits the same one during the same week. He prides himself on how many virgins he has banged and is a local legend amongst all the frat houses at Tulane. He's the worst kind of predator because everyone loves him and no one can seem to resist him. Until tonight.
By Katniss Forevergreen5 years ago in Fiction
Aftermath
Aftermath Author: Matthew Cooper Clare sat by a small fire, enough to keep her warm but not enough to attract too much attention. She nervously fiddles with her necklace which is the last physical memory that she has of her mom. Her mom gave her the necklace on her tenth birthday because, in her family, the first double-digit birthday was seen as a sign of growing into an adult. It was a beautiful heart-shaped locket that sparkled in the sun. Clare had come from a low-income family, so the necklace was probably inexpensive, but it now takes her back to a better time. While she fiddles with it, she is also trying to wipe the dust and dirt off to see some resemblance of what the necklace used to look like. She often wonders if her mother dying in the rioting was a better way to go than be alive today.
By Matthew Cooper5 years ago in Fiction
Multiple Rooms on Earth
Joe Lewis Johnson, popularly known as Joel Johnson, was your average young lad. An average typical teenager, with spectacles and an unknown , unquenched love for rock n roll. He was not very popular ( nor that he cared ), but one must admit, for a goofy looking guy like him, schools are always hard. He would hate them all. He wouldn’t talk to anybody, because none of them showed him even a single bit of comradeship, that’s how he felt. His mother was a Doctor who was always busy( that’s what he only knows about his mother’s profession). His father was always on travel, cracking business deals and all. So you can say, our Joel was rich.
By Syed Arabi Khalique5 years ago in Fiction
