Humor
Escape from the Cooinda Cycle: Part Three
I was surprised when I looked at my watch, and rekindled with energy to make it through the last time here, I quickly left the area and used the staff code to exit the back door towards the bins. I enjoyed the small amount of time in relative calm while doing the bins and did not rush back, but slowly made my way back down to The Gypsy’s room.
By Savannah K. Wilson3 years ago in Fiction
Escape from the Cooinda Cycle: Part One
“I've been looking for freedom, Since I left my home town, I've been looking for freedom,” I was singing along as loud as I could clapping where I could without losing control of the vehicle. As the song came to its crescendo, I belted out the final line in time with The Hoff.
By Savannah K. Wilson3 years ago in Fiction
The Underwood Dragon
Lilly is on school holidays; she went camping with her parents. She is sitting in her new Landcruiser, her parents assume there is enough space inside the Landcruiser to sleep and eat. But Lilly knows there's not enough space in the car. Lilly has a dog named Jeffy. He is coming to camp. Her brother Jordan does not want to come because Jeffy licks him and then Jeffy’s saliva comes out of his mouth and dribbles on Jordan's pants. I know that is a bit disgusting anyway, but Lilly’s parents decided that they were going to Underwood Island. In stories and news Lilly heard there are volcanoes, which are big and black. It has fire in it. Lilly said she is not scared of volcanoes if they do not erupt during my school holidays.
By Syeda Tamseel Fatima3 years ago in Fiction
7464 in the New Year
"No! For the last time I absolutely will not donate the ottoman!" Cade slams the door in the face of his neighbor, who had been hounding him for weeks to donate to "the best charity on the block". He'd already sent four bags right after Christmas. He needed something new, something that stirred him out of this after-holiday funk. Commotion outside drove him to open his door again and he peered outside. Nobody on the porch. No sound in the street. But a shadow in his peripheral made him spin around. It was one of those silver drones, which seemed too big to be flying around where kids were playing. It whizzed past his head, barely missing him. He ducked, but by the time "Hey!" could come out of his mouth, it had changed direction and disappeared. He couldn't find anyone, even though he walked out to the street and peeked down the alley. A small box KER-PLUNKED onto his perfect grass. There was no need for a front yard anymore, but he still liked to keep it immaculate. He tried to open it, but there didn't appear to be a lid. There was something written on the bottom, a string of numbers. "Two, Two, Three, Dash, Six, Four, Six, Three," he read out loud. Someone must have meant to pass this to their friend and couldn't learn a simple instrument like a drone. He typed in the numbers to his phone, trying to see if they were connected to something familiar. It might be a phone number. But no luck. Maybe a code? He tried putting in letters in place of each, starting with B as 2. BBC-FDFC. Nope. He picked up the box and looked at each corner and all the edges. Definitely no opening, but there did seem to be letters here, scrawled in a light pencil, like someone tried to erase it. "Song" was the word, if he read it correctly. Just then, the phone rang.
By Hannah Marie. 3 years ago in Fiction
The Passengers
The Ferryman guided the gondola along a watery path only he knew the secrets to as it transported a half dozen specially chosen masked passengers to an exclusive event. Though each eyed him with suspicion, they appeared confident he would get them to their destination. They had to believe that because he was their only means of travel.
By D. L. Lewellyn3 years ago in Fiction
Reality Check
Now that was a well-deserved weekend off! My back and legs were just killing me, not to mention my arms felt like they were about to fall off. Yes, I really needed this long weekend just to pull myself back together. All the stress and strain that comes with my job would cause someone made with a poorer quality of material to just give up and collapse in a heap.
By Mark Gagnon3 years ago in Fiction
