Excerpt
World in Tatters Ch1. Content Warning.
“Hey, Rach!” I shout as we unload our gear from the horses into the little grey house. “I’m right here, you don’t have to yell.” I hadn’t even seen her as she circled around behind me. She’d learned to be a lot quieter on her feet. The results of training and a hell of a lot of practice in the woods.
By Kevin Barkman2 years ago in Fiction
Road to Nowhere
I had been on the road for days, or maybe weeks; the concept of time seemed like an illusion, a joke played by the universe. My real name was lost to me, buried beneath layers of disillusionment and existential fatigue. Aaron? Adam? Brandon? Carl? No, my name began with an “A,” whatever it was. Names were only a beginning, a means to an end. Descriptive things to be used as identifiers and discarded when their function was no longer relevant. Mine had been forgotten long ago, and I have adopted many since. Lately, it had been Max. The highway stretched endlessly before me, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the heart of the American night. My car, a rusty old Cadillac that had seen better days, rumbled beneath me like a loyal but equally weary companion. I call her “Luna”, because she always sees me through the night.
By Aaron Richmond2 years ago in Fiction
Over Jordan
Two days into her cross-country podcasting journey, Cassandra was cruising through Pennsylvania on Interstate I-80 West with her influencer friend, trying t0 half-sleep away her anxiety in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s 2015 Nissan Versa. She dipped briefly into dream logic and felt, for a few seconds, that the cold wind blowing through her naked toes was the same sound as the twangy guitar crackling through old speakers in her memory.
By Steve Hanson2 years ago in Fiction
The Undesirables: chapter 1
I am a monster. Why, you ask. Maybe it’s my strange, frightening appearance. Then again, I was never much to look at, even before I became like this. Maybe it’s the lives I’ve taken or the countless others I’ve ruined. They all had it coming, of course. I may be a monster, but I’m not a mindless killer! Maybe it’s the simple fact that I couldn’t fit into societal norms, no matter how hard I tried. So what makes me a monster? I’ll tell you my story and let you decide.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland2 years ago in Fiction
A Mother's Prayer. Content Warning.
art wr**Title: A Mother's Prayer - The Unforgiving Border** Once upon a time, in a small village nestled deep in the heart of Guatemala, lived Maria, a resilient woman with a heart of gold. Her life revolved around her family - her husband, Miguel, and their two children, Elena and Mateo. They were a happy family, filled with dreams and hopes for a brighter future. But life in their village was becoming unbearable. The land was dry, crops were failing, and the shadows of a dangerous gang loomed over them like a dark cloud.
By Opeyemi Rasheed Aremu 2 years ago in Fiction
A Time of Great Anger. Top Story - September 2023.
The day dawned a bit earlier than usual across the ruins of the old family farm, which was just fine and dandy for the Great Horned owl who made its nest in the barn’s loft. That wise old owl knew just about everything there was to know about that ramshackle mess of a farm, for he was there at its rise, its corruption, and its eventual downfall. He’d lived through all of it. ‘Twas a grand downfall, too--one that most who had lived there never saw coming, except for the observant few who paid close attention to the signs.
By Jackie Barrows2 years ago in Fiction
Moe Tobacco. Content Warning.
Who doesn’t enjoy American poverty? It’s ‘bout a good 11AM as I step outside my front door. My bare copper colored feet feeling every bit of the summer heat from the concrete porch. My joggers slightly sag, displaying the brand name of the boxers I’m wearing. The wife-beater tank top I sport allows the tattoos on both my arms to shine. With my left hand, I rub my nappy goatee before touching my equally nappy Afro to make sure it’s all still there. As my senses become fully online, my eyes start to match visuals with the beautiful cacophony transpiring.
By Unknown Sonrose2 years ago in Fiction
Welcome Home, Craig. Content Warning.
“Caledonia you’re calling me and now I’m coming home” – Caledonia by Dougie Maclean I had just boarded the last stage of my long trek home from New York to Glasgow at London Heathrow. Another hour or so and I would be on home turf again for the first time in a decade. Was I looking forward to it? In some ways, yes. Glasgow has always been my first love. It is where I grew up, got my education, where I met the love of my life before screwing it up beyond repair. There’s a line in the song Caledonia by Dougie Maclean “I have moved, and I’ve kept on moving, proved the points I needed proving.” That, at least in part, explains why I moved, despite loving Glasgow so much.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 1 of “Gravel”
Mark was one of those guys who floated through life buoyed by his natural charm and likability. With bleach-blonde hair and steroid-swollen biceps, the overwhelming impression he gave was that of a gym-bro surfer, despite hailing from some small town in north Jersey. Jack had met him after a gig at one of those stately old Midtown hotels that had been the center of the socialite scene a century before, but whose cramped rooms were now full of tourists who hadn’t read the reviews and whose grand ballroom mostly hosted corporate events. They were both freelance cater-waiters who spent their time rushing around the ballroom during fundraising galas and company dinners. The venue kept the lights low to hide the peeling paint and water stains on the ceiling, but peering into the shadows long enough revealed that the hotel’s best days were long behind it.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Fiction
