Love
Magic Rain
My grandmother’s grandmother would tell her stories about a magical world that would appear when it rained. A world of magical creatures that wandered around us but invisible to the plain human eyes. She would listen to these stories that were passed down from generation to generation of women in our family handed down over time. Now she was telling me these stories a new generation in the family. She would paint a beautiful world before bedtime that made for amazing dreams.
By Theartistjosko4 years ago in Fiction
Crave the Worship
Her essence spins me out Keep focus
By Jamie Jaxx4 years ago in Fiction
When They Look Away, You Look At Me
I used to imagine that if you had reached out and just touched me while we were in front of everyone, we would have been transparent. They’d have seen everything inside of us, see the truth, and then we’d shatter like glass to the floor. Except you never did.
By Kathy Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Dogs Watched
T Crushed soapstone greeted her tires as she turned down the wooded drive. The bleached rock clashed harshly against the foliage of the forest like an oil slick in a blue-green ocean and she thought it strange in this setting; oaks, pine and a periodic hickory densely covered the North Carolina property only miles from the Atlantic coastline and the sheer white of the drive seemed in such stark contrast to the coastal forest. A unique name made finding him effortless even after five years spent apart. Many search engines still gave his whereabouts somewhere in the midwest; she remembered him talking about his grandfather’s Kansas homestead and thought maybe he’d gone back to his deeper Jayhawk roots. With time and persistence, however, a deeper investigation placed him near the coast where she now found herself seeking out a shadow of a lead. Residing very near the address the world wide web offered, she decided to take a chance and begin her search there.
By Micah Goentzel4 years ago in Fiction
Harvest Moon
"If you’re reluctant to weep, you won’t live a full and complete life." -Ray Bradbury, explaining a rare departure in style after he wrote a short story about a young girl he met at the beach. She went into the water and she never came back. When he wrote about the experience and his reflections on death much later, tears flowed freely from his eyes. It was the first time, he acknowledged, that he had written a story that came from his innermost voice.
By Heather Richmond4 years ago in Fiction
Augustine
She knows the truth. Everyone knows. Inez saw us leave the bonfire, hands clasped together and walking away in sync. We had a little too much to drink that night, and we were careless. The next thing I know, people are blowing up my phone the following day, asking me if I was seeing James. According to Beverly, Inez had taken a picture of us together and sent it to Betty.
By Madaleine Ponthieux4 years ago in Fiction
Yours
My flight arrived a little late and paparazzi were waiting for me at the door. I didn’t even mind, I was just so thrilled to be coming home. I stepped out into the warm bright Los Angeles sunshine and breathed in. It was so good to be back. Eight months sure had felt like a lifetime. My driver was waiting for me on the curb and he opened the door for me to step in and away from the flashing cameras and he put my bags into the trunk.
By Lea Wilson 4 years ago in Fiction
