Excerpt
A Night Owl's Writer's Block
I spun around in my office chair, head tilted back, willing an idea to pop into my brain. After a half dozen rotations, I was plenty dizzy but had no new ideas. I dragged my feet on the floor, and my chair squeaked to a stop in front of my computer screen.
By Jessie Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
The Return of the Defenders
It was getting late. Though the sky displayed a myriad of colour, with the growing shadows came a sense of foreboding. A nervous hush fell upon the forest, the only movement coming from the wind blowing through the leaves, and the day-dwellers scurrying for sanctuary. It had been this way for as long as Gaeryll could remember.
By J.C. Winter4 years ago in Fiction
The White Ripper
1. Bruce Gomer plopped his fat and hairy body onto a threadbare swivel chair in his decrepit trailer in the woods of Stuttgart, Arkansas, forty-five miles southeast of Little Rock. Wearing nothing but a dirty wife-beater T-shirt and torn socks, he played with his cock then turned on his PC and went to the Facebook page, Don’t Tread On US!
By Keith Seewald4 years ago in Fiction
Edge of Fire
Chapter One Ira stared into the flames. The embers sputtered and splintered, sending sparks flying all around him, and the blackened ashes went golden orange and red with each crack of the smoldering wood. But in spite of the fire’s hot glow, his breath still came in small clouds of vapor.
By Meredith Swanson4 years ago in Fiction
Late Bloomers
He wasn’t all that interested in classical music, but an hour out of class was an hour out of class. It wasn’t that he thought “normal” music was better, or anything, but the classical music he’d heard before was never interesting. He always supposed it was some lost in translation thing, something he was missing because he so used to messing around with synthesizers and auto tune and everything he could get his hands on.
By A Baptiste4 years ago in Fiction
The #ELEMENT
As of this morning, it has been 1yr. Free and clean of all toxicity. I haven't laid a finger on drugs or alcohol. Recently my addictive personality has been in considerable control. PHYSICALLY & MENTALLY I feel as strong as ox. In all sincerity Spiritually I feel much, much more is to be revealed. My stay at the treatment center has been awakening for sure! Besides a new year, my graduation and completion of my rehabilitation, or should I say to continue... The 12 steps I've become familiar with speak of a constant struggle. A lesson of consistency and preparation to counter the grip of self-medicating. A balance of emotions becomes aware. To be truthful, nervousness has been pecking away at me all week. The excitement of going home has become disrupted by uncertainty. Fear has a conniving way of inviting itself. Still, I hold fast on my blueprint, the master plan I had been setting in place for the longest. Even in the entrapment of the jungle, I had been on the fence. I was blessed. Being pulled by a force unconceivable to the dying flesh. It took a while for me to reach this moment. In due time I suppose. The relationships and knowledge of this particular moment are perfect. The most amazing woman that I've ever met just so happens to be my nurse. I,d been in complete awe of her beauty from day 1. The care and compassion she showed toward me were unforgettable.
By D.C.@UN-BrokenGRAMMAR4 years ago in Fiction
