Fantasy
7 Days
The transformation is complete. I take a gasping breath. Who am I this time? I quickly look around. I’m in a kitchen. People around me are working at the many counters, some mixing dough, others putting finishing touches on creations. I look down. I’m wearing an apron and my male hands are covered in flour. In front of me is some sugar cookie dough rolled out. It’s a bakery. I reason that it may be easier to pretend I know what I’m doing than if this had been a full restaurant kitchen, with many recipes to learn on the fly. I realize baking can be a sophisticated and delicate craft, but hopefully I’m not expected to be at that level. I remember being a teenaged girl about 40 weeks ago, give or take. I was watching my grandmother make cookies. I take the cookie cutter and start pressing it in the dough, trying keep the circles close to have less dough to reroll. Just when I’m feeling proud of myself for jumping right into the situation, a woman walks up behind me and yells, “Walters, pick up the pace! You should have had two batches in the oven by now. Either finish or I’ll hire the next homeless person who comes through the door begging for a handout.” She’s intense, with her hair pulled back severely in a bun, arms behind her back like a drill sergeant. I’m thankful that customers are not privy to this rant.
By Julie Lacksonen5 years ago in Fiction
HIGH WATCH
The fighting atop Highcliff was over . The heroes had won a great victory by surprising the Tarnakian Army in their own slave encampment. The prize for victory was more than to win a plot of land for humanity; to ambush the Tarnakian savages at their own camp had liberated the slaves as well.
By Kent Brindley5 years ago in Fiction
A girl and her stars
Once upon a time there was a girl. A fiery, red headed girl that gazed inquisitively into the stars. The sky was a navy sea of tiny, brightly lit, white & yellow glowing orbs. She wondered if there was more. More to life, to herself, to others and what it all meant.
By Vanessa R. Powell5 years ago in Fiction
Fair Trade
Margot sat on a park bench and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Pain radiated through her eyes and into her head. How could she have gotten laid off? She needed that crappy, low-paying job. Her family needed that job. She imagined her dad’s disappointment. The worry lines eroding his once handsome face. Margot groaned and pushed the heel of her palm into her eyes, trying to slow her racing thoughts. A dull thump on the bench yanked Margot from her thoughts.
By Cynthia Varady5 years ago in Fiction
Below the Surface
Saka sat cross-legged atop Boadicea’s scratched and dented hull, double-checking her gear. The ship rocked in the gently rolling waves, the soft splash against the hull was the only sound to be heard. Before Saka could go over her equipment a third time, a sure sign she was stalling, she sighed and suited up.
By Cynthia Varady5 years ago in Fiction
Hellfire and Kindness
My world is one of black and white. Of good and evil. My world is after mankind's destruction. Sobs and hysteria echo about the empty valleys and cities now where there was once endless noise, a mixture of good and bad and anywhere in between. Laughter is rarely heard and when it is, it is looked down upon with terror as if the very idea or thought, or sound of joy might bring more devastation to the surface of our world.
By Hope Martin8 years ago in Fiction
