Excerpt
Mitigating Circumstances
Prologue Geneva, Switzerland Andrew Buchanan surveyed the lavishly appointed conference room his newly acquired international pharmaceutical corporation, World Wide Cures, had leased for its semi-annual board meeting. The company’s main office on the other side of town was equipped with a conference room, but he wanted his first meeting as chairman to impress his fellow board members. The room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, high-backed leather chairs, and mahogany conference table, should accomplish that nicely.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
Writing Prompt Responses
The Professor - Write about a teacher that has influenced you Two teachers come to mind. I’ve had influential teachers all through my education, but these are the ones I still somewhat keep in contact with. The first was a high school American history teacher. The second was an English professor at Texas Tech University.
By Nathan J Bonassin4 years ago in Fiction
Open Window
The Open Window Story is a short story written by the British writer Hector Hugh Munro, who was publishing his stories under the name “Saki.” It tells of a man who was suffering from psychological problems, so he goes to the countryside to calm his nerves, and falls prey to a girl with a wide imagination who tells him stories that make him lose his nerve . . .
By Hou Adjouz4 years ago in Fiction
A Trader on the Border of the Mutant Rain Forest
From my mobile station on the shifting border of the Mutant Rain Forest, I watch them come from the Northern Domes, from the slums and ghettos and the failed farms of the Wastelands, the lost ones eager to surrender to Forest's compulsions and the ones who tremble as if they are harboring a fear they must conquer. Then there are the religious ones, fanatics who come in groups. They think they are going to convert the creatures once-human who survive beyond the border, most of them already animal or vegetable in inclination and form. They think they are going to convince them to worship Jesus or Allah or Joseph Smith. Or the latest televangelist.
By Sejal shrestha4 years ago in Fiction
The last Christmas
A small excerpt from my novel “Una casa di vento”. The table has been extended and covered with a red tablecloth, bought in a Chinese store, which does not need to be ironed and is washed with a sponge. The dishes, on the other hand, are the good ones. Michela even tried to make a centerpiece out of discount candles and cones sprinkled with silver spray. Keeping your hands and head busy is an effort that consumes a lot of energy, exhausts and leaves room for little else, but it is essential, it is part of the daily process of repression, which has been going on for a long time now. At this very moment she forces herself to keep her eyes fixed on the plate she is holding, to breathe in order to clear her head and find a way to get to the end of the evening. From the kitchen comes a sickening smell of scorched croutons and sizzled roast. It is as if there were luminous writings in the air, festoons announcing the advent of horror, not of Jesus.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
Hidden Library: The Second Spell Book
“You look beautiful when you dance.” My back straightened when I heard those words from the other side of the practice room. I hadn’t heard Antony enter. If I had, I would have stopped practicing. I glanced at the stereo system in the corner. My music had not been loud, yet the gentle melody had covered the sound of his arrival.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
