Love
Good Things Come in Surprise Packages
"I wonder what’s in it?” My best friend Sarah asked me for the seventeenth time. “I still have no clue,” I responded, “and before you ask me your next question, no, I haven’t figured out who sent it since you last asked me five minutes ago.”
By Austin Blessing-Nelson (Blessing)3 years ago in Fiction
When the Thief Comes
It was the incessant whir in front of the house that woke me from my stupor & caused me to set the empty cup of coffee I did not remember drinking down on the table. One of the neighbor’s kids had been raking leaves in our yard, but there was no reason he or she (I was never quite sure anymore) would be using a weed whip. I slid my chair back, slowly got up & went to the door to investigate.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock3 years ago in Fiction
The Drone that Saved Christmas
A drone anonymously delivers a mysterious package to your doorstep..... I mean, what would you do? Would you immediately assume the worst? Or assume the best? Because honestly who deliver such a package to the home? I thought over all of the scenarios while the package was inside my home.
By Avril Doucette3 years ago in Fiction
Happiness and Harmony
# Rachel and Vinny # As Vinny opened the door to his studio apartment, he was surprised to see two innocuous brown boxes at his feet. Normally he would pick up packages from the doorman of his building, so this was unusual. He looked around the hall and noticed that handfuls of small brown boxes were in front of every other door as well.
By M.A Rector3 years ago in Fiction
At A Time. Top Story - January 2023.
It's been a long time since I've seen a Christmas tree in my living room. Small, with plastic firs poking at odd ends, my thrift-store Christmas tree glows with pride in the centre of my one-bedroom apartment. Small lights twinkle from its base to its top, and every second-hand ornament smiles with untold stories.
By sleepy drafts3 years ago in Fiction
Death, interrupted. Top Story - December 2022.
Kirn's death is rudely interrupted by a droning sound outside the house. Screwing her eyes shut tighter, she draws a labored breath. It doesn't matter, she reminds herself, there's nothing out there: as the last human on Earth, she's certain of this much. This sound must be an illusion, some auditory hallucination from dehydration. It means she's nearly there, finally one foot in the grave! Appeased, she pushes her hand over the bed sheets to squeeze Ashami's cold arm. She only manages a caress, but that's enough to draw them closer together: they were linked in life, and soon they shall be in death too.
By Claire Guérin3 years ago in Fiction
The Cabin
The tires crunch underneath us as we drive up the icy gravel path, my hand in yours where it belongs. The snow-capped pines part before us, revealing our destination at long last. The cabin looks rustic and beautiful, like a life-sized gingerbread cottage dusted heavily with powdered sugar. It's so quiet and peaceful all the way up here, away from the noise of the city... away from all the things that don't really matter. It's been a long drive, and I know you're tired, but I can already tell from the sparkle in your eye that it was worth the trip up.
By Natalie Gray3 years ago in Fiction
