Humor
Oh Deer, I Can Talk
I grazed on lush green grass outside the forest's edge. As the smallest one in the herd, I often got left behind, struggling to keep up with their long strides. Even though I tried to shake off these feelings, I still felt like an outsider among them. As I wandered away from the safety of the herd, I couldn't escape the nagging thought that I was too small and insignificant to truly be a part of the group.
By Timberly Price3 years ago in Fiction
The Magic Dance
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a ritual that had been going on for as long as anyone could remember. But what most people didn't know was that it wasn't just a natural occurrence. It was magic.
By Angel Varo3 years ago in Fiction
A Conversation with Abigail
I was excited to see Vocal’s Talking Tails challenge, as I felt it would be a good opportunity to have some fun with a quick piece, and once again highlight my adorable cat, Abigail. I woke her from a nap, thinking she would share my excitement and boy, was I in for a surprise. Below is my conversation with the self-appointed princess:
By Cathy holmes3 years ago in Fiction
The Owl Named Hoot
In the depths of the forest, there lived a wise old owl named Hoot. Hoot was no ordinary owl; he had a gift that allowed him to speak to humans. However, Hoot knew better than to reveal this gift to just anyone. He only spoke to those he deemed worthy of his knowledge.
By Angel Varo3 years ago in Fiction
The Uber Cat
The only thing stranger than a talking cat is what I, Rue, have learned from speaking with humans. It’s not so much the things they say, though that by itself is strange enough. It’s more how they say it; always with an undertone of complaint, murmurings of discontent or outright anger about everything from the weather to politics to who knows what.
By Tyler Simmonds 3 years ago in Fiction
CHAI AND SAMOSAS
Once upon a time, there was a man named Raj who loved tea and samosas more than anything in the world. He would have them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he could, and he would often go out of his way to find the best samosas and the tastiest chai in town.
By HARI KRISHNAN3 years ago in Fiction
Ropers, Milkers, Muggers, and Nuns (Part III)
Now, I find myself as the mugger—again—on a Wild Cow Milking team that also consisted of a priest and a two hundred and fifty pound nun named Forbearance as the ropers, with me as the mugger and the principal of my school as the milker.
By Chuck Etheridge3 years ago in Fiction
The Unsinkable James Cameron
The year is 2012, a crowd of spectators and members of the press are gathered at Port Apra on the island of Guam. They are here to greet Hollywood director James Cameron following his history making descent to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.
By Leslie Writes3 years ago in Fiction
Satironical Meta Magical Realism
Narrator's preface: The writer who is the protagonist of the below story includes an author's preface in many of his written works. Generally these are full of psuedo intellectual clap trap that sounds intelligent at first blush, but upon closer inspection is actually nonsense. He was not available to provide an author's preface in this case telling me that he was busy "inventing a brand new genre of writing" which he had dubbed satironical meta magical realism. And there you have it, a perfect example of what I meant with that intelligent nonsense comment. Apparently he was doing this in order that he might produce a story he could enter in a writing contest for some two bit website nobody has ever heard of much less cares about. I told him good luck and offered to dream something up to cover his author's preface for this "story." His fan base which consists primarily of persons recently released from or soon to be committed to a mental institution, prisoners, hobos and homeless vagabounds get very agitated when he fails to include an author's preface in any given story he writes. Of course they also get agitated by anything anyone else considers normal. Ah well. Enjoy the below, or don't, it's no skin off my back either way.
By Everyday Junglist3 years ago in Fiction
