Love

Barmhärtighet
Los Angeles, 12/30/49 The job: clip a degenerate Swede ex-boxer named Goran Berglund. Nickname: The Mountain Man, purebred dumbass unimaginative, the exact English translation of his actual name. No surprise, towhead idiot had a coma case’s imagination, could only outthink a brick if you laid it on its side.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Fiction
Reset
“I think it is well beyond time for you to reset your password...” Attorney Charles Strom spoke from across his mahogany desk “…for everything, Ms. Janovsky.” He paused to look at me for what I could assume was dramatic effect, “Mr. Elliott will seek to do this again with any and every account he can, and if you don’t get this taken care of, we might have more to clean up next time.”
By Heather Foster3 years ago in Fiction
The Reset
The dreaded email arrived in my inbox again this morning - subject line reads: it's time to reset your password. Baffled at how another year has passed, and frustrated because I'm just getting used to the current password, just barely, I mentally prepare to make things harder for myself by altering it yet again so it's impossible to come to me naturally and I will most definitely have to check to confirm what it is each time I have to sign in. Lovely. While it's so tempting to use the same password as I have on a number of other sites, I know that this defeats the purpose of the update though, so I resist. Still, I remain unsure what combination of letters, both uppercase and lowercase, numbers, and special characters would be the perfect balance of easily memorable to me and secure against others easily guessing it.
By Hailey Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
The Beautiful Girl and the Painter;
Isabella. She lived in a small village nestled in the heart of Tuscany, Italy. The village was surrounded by rolling hills covered in olive groves and vineyards, and the air was always filled with the sweet scent of blooming lavender.
By Abbas Ali3 years ago in Fiction
Lista
She stared at her laptop screen, eyes bloodshot and tears having stained her face. Margaret Lista had nearly forgotten where she was as her eyes grazed over the countless pictures that filled her joint social media account with Roy Withers. So many images of them laughing, vacationing, eating dinner, acting silly, and even a few where he had caught her off guard with a kiss.
By Reiley3 years ago in Fiction
TheWrongChris18
I was lying in a zombified state on the bed. I wasn't asleep...just lying there. I can’t remember when I last properly got a good bit of sleep. Yes, I can. It was the day before that day. My contemplative staring where I was questioning everything and nothing was broken off only by a rank and funky smell. Checking my pits. Damn, it’s me.
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Fiction
Third Party
'Why do you constantly challenge me!?' he demanded. That seemed like a futile question, I thought in my mind. 'Because you are behaving strangely!' I protested again.
By Katrina Kendall3 years ago in Fiction
The End of an Era
Nature slowly changed from orange hues to pure white. Winter was closing in faster than she thought it would. It felt bittersweet. She'd always enjoyed winter, always loved the cold and the snow. But this year it felt wrong and she was filled with despair.
By Emilie Turner3 years ago in Fiction
The Connection
The internet has opened up a whole new world for humanity. It has connected us like never before and enabled the sharing of unprecedented amounts of information. This has allowed us to make rapid progress as a society… unless you’re an idiot like me who use the vast powers of the internet to do something as foolish as creeping on someone. I say that as I sit in front of the screen, scrolling through the Facebook page of a girl I liked 20 years ago. I know it’s horrible. I know I shouldn’t be doing it. She probably wouldn’t appreciate some random guy creeping her on Facebook. Yet here I am anyways. So what is it about this girl that I’m willing to break social taboos for? I met her 20 years ago and thought we had a great connection, but due to a serious case of paralysing fear and nervousness, I messed up at the moment that I was supposed to ask her out. Although time has faded my memory of it somewhat, that mistake continues to haunt me to this very day. I strongly believed that she was the ‘one.’ I’ve met other girls after her, sure, but each new person I meet only seems to reinforce how perfect she is compared to them. I’m probably wrong. Maybe my admiration of her is just in my head and has no basis in reality. But I can’t help the way I feel. To me, there was no coming back from that mistake. That was a pivotal moment in my timeline - where it split into two different futures: the one where I end up with the girl of my dreams and the one where I am now - alone and unable to move on from something that happened a long time ago. The scary thing about the internet is how it makes it almost impossible to move on. Despite how it sounds, I’m not blaming the technology though. I‘m perfectly aware that it’s really my own stubbornness that’s making it impossible to move on. Unfortunately, my awareness of my stubbornness does little to motivate me to overcome it. To make matters worse, now that I’ve found her on social media, I’m too afraid to act on it. Looking at her page, I can infer from the information that’s accessible to me that she’s probably happily married, with a family of her own. 20 years is a long time. In that time she lived her life fully, while I’ve been stuck in limbo. I’m just hoping for one last miracle. I’ve decided to do it. After lurking for so long, I’m finally going to send a friend request.
By Ghostface Writer3 years ago in Fiction
Tea for Two
The strategies and treats I’ve been using for years to bribe myself through another day at the home office are no longer working. Comfy clothes, deep breaths, and the chocolate treat of the week help dampen the dread as I walk down the hall, but part of me still wants to shriek and have a meltdown.
By Bethany G3 years ago in Fiction
The Program
Looking at the clock, I see it’s almost 10 a.m. I have called my handler every hour on the hour since six o’clock this morning. Four hours, that’s the amount of time I must give them to call me back. At the end of the fourth hour, I’m supposed to call the back-up line. I hate calling the back-up line. I’ve never been given good news when I’ve had to use it.
By razornale3 years ago in Fiction
Reset Your Password
Once upon a time, in a far-off kingdom, there lived a young prince named Alexander. He was a kind and caring ruler, beloved by his people. Alexander was known for his intelligence and his ability to solve problems with ease. He was always ready to help his people in any way he could and his kingdom was prospering under his rule. But one day, an evil sorcerer cast a spell on the prince, causing him to forget his own identity and the secrets to the kingdom's prosperity.
By syam mathew3 years ago in Fiction