Love
Christmas Island
The early horizon is vast but our dreams are vaster. They have to be, in order for us to carry onward through the devastating trauma and oppression that we experienced on Christmas island starting the year 2042. For me and my wife this darkness had ended in the year 2050, though it's possible that the trauma will never leave our hearts and minds. It all began in the winter of 2042- Only four years after the new pope Leonard Varnelli was ordained. Rome had of course been taken back by the church only a year after Varnelli had been instated. The summer of 2039 was when Rome was recaptured. Now I know that you're asking yourself "What does Christmas Island- An Australian territory, have to do with Rome?" Well it didn't have anything to do with Rome. It never did. Until it did. I never knew why it happened until after we fled, and neither did Abigail. But now I know, therefore I’ll tell.
By Justice Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
A Love Story to Remember
Prologue Surya and Jessi were two young souls who were brought together by fate. They had never met before, but their paths were about to cross in the most unexpected way. Little did they know that their lives were about to change forever.
By Anandh Manickam3 years ago in Fiction
The Story of Haiku's Eyes
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a young girl named Haiku. She had the most beautiful eyes that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. They were a deep, dark brown and seemed to hold a world of secrets and stories within them. Everyone who met her couldn't help but fall in love with her, for she was kind, gentle and had a heart of gold.
By Vocal Trending 3 years ago in Fiction
Love and Death
Her life was fading on the stone steps they sat upon, her elven warrior holding her body up while her breath labored. She clutched to his shirt, her grip weak, and the skin of her body was stark white compared to the still vibrant red of her hair. The elf pushed back his lover’s long hair; the cold of her skin shocking to him.
By Morgan Starkey3 years ago in Fiction
Am I the only one
She stared out her window. The sunset, the swish of the waves. It seemed so improbable that someone with her income bewould have a week on a tropical island. She had won it. A lottery at the art gallery where she worked. If she had been a high-level worker she would banned from winning but she was an hourly part-time employee.
By Antoinette L Brey3 years ago in Fiction
Hyperbaric hyperplasia hyperbole
I feel myself unable to stand without getting dizzy, a nauseas mixture of the worst sort of things set to my nostrils like an old feeling, a memory, burnt tire and gasoline, and then, fresh, salty air, and I find myself gagging, as the light burns my eyes.
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 years ago in Fiction





