Fantasy
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
Vertigo
The sweltering heat poured off the writhing form of multiple bodies crashing into each other like a pit of boiling water, their hands waving creating the effect of bubbles popping against the surface. I asked myself once more why I endured the noxious fumes of bodily fluids, burning sensation of physical contact and music so loud the force of it surely changed the pace of my heart beat. I looked towards Bethany, her brown hair loose and waving about her like an image blurred, her crimson nails darting flashes of color against her dark tan skin and black dress, the Jesus that hung from her neck catching the swirling lights and winking as though it was amused by the irony of religion in such a god-forsaken place as this. That was why. I scanned the crowd, fishing for something interesting to do with the next few hours I'd be here.
By I.T.O. Tails5 years ago in Fiction
Smood Day
Five years ago Earth had this pandemic it caused havoc throughout the world enabling many to lose their jobs homes even access to public places grocery stores, libraries, train stations air ports were all empty and marked as contaminated. Due to the economic drop many people were forced out of their homes to live on the street with their bare menials to become a member of what is known as Tent City. The tent city is a place where the financially unfortunate locals of the community band together to support one another in the unprecedent time of disaster when extra care is needed.
By LaShonda Odom5 years ago in Fiction
Alfred
On the morning that my adventure began, I found myself dozing on my bed. I had already dressed and drawn the curtains, allowing a golden blanket of sunlight to bathe me as I stirred. Summer sounds greeted my waking senses; rustling, flapping and chirruping floated in through the open window. The combined scent of flowers in bloom mingled with fresh grass cuttings and barbecue smoke; wafting in on each fresh current of air.
By Alicia Brunskill5 years ago in Fiction
The Gates
Like the many nights before, and those yet to come, Ezra Iscariot stood at the Mouth of Hell. His hands buried in the ragged pockets of a dead man’s coat and a cigarette firmly clamped between his lips. A layer of thick sooty coal caked his skin and clung to his auburn hair. This beloved city before him was reduced to ash and rubble. This was the end of the world.
By Emilia the Bat5 years ago in Fiction
Vas Forterai
Vas Forterai sat in a restaurant in the center of town, in the corner seat farthest from the entrance. Marjory’s. She’d been here a number of times before, but this time she wasn’t here to eat. Instead, her eyes were laser-focused on a greasy-looking mountain of a man that was about to begin enjoying his first meal outside of prison. He picked up his chopsticks and held them gingerly in his large hands, as if he was afraid that someone would take them away.
By Rietz Kanning5 years ago in Fiction
Darker Drabbles
Undoing Life’s Choices “Ready?” Walter nodded. “Am I ever.” They approached the children playing in the yard. “Daddy’s home!” The excited squeals were well worth the gut-churning journey in the time-machine, the struggle to convince his younger self not to make those terrible choices.
By Heather Ewings5 years ago in Fiction
Ever Since the Seas Had Risen
Whenever I want to remind myself of what life was like before the world ended, I burn some toast. As the smoke rises, I close my eyes, breathe in deep, and the smell of the over-crisp bread transports me back to those precious moments right before everything changed those many years ago:
By Amanda Hovseth5 years ago in Fiction
(Dys)Utopian Eulogy
If you are reading this, then I guess, I am at long last dead. If you are a part of the dominion’s acolytes, guck yourself. But if you are among the living with a selfish thought in your noggin, consider me lucky, because you are still breathing air in what I can only assume is a state of direction versus independent thought. It was not always so.
By j.d. davis5 years ago in Fiction
