Microfiction
The Brush Off
When Marcel asked Paula "Let's eat together one night," she'd expected a restaurant and not his maisonette. They'd been on a few drinks' "dates" prior although he had never kissed her, which she found unusual for a French man, though he seemed benign.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
The Soft Witch
There were worse places to be trapped, Ian thought with a reflective hum. He had his long brown winter coat, woolen and warm, though the temperature was higher with the snow falling delicately like this. There was no perceptible wind, just a slight bite to the air that refreshed him more than anything. Gloves might have been nice, he thought, rounding another corner of the small town.
By Silver Dauxabout a year ago in Fiction
Soupçon et Jalousie
I fall in love with her, my Rhiannon. She, beautiful. Even lovelier, she not know! Her skin so smooth, little white teeth digging worry into her lip. Always counting the calorie. Always looking for another way to care. And when she forgot to worry, her smile so wide, so happy. Contagieuse! Oh, I was so dizzy in love.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Music - The Food of Love
"I don't know how to reach her." Dean was upset after visiting the home. He had sat, talking, filling the vacuum. Next to him, in a chair designed to keep her upright, like a vinyl throne, was a woman, shrunken and whiskery, narrow shouldered with big slippers and white, untamed hair. Insipid green was everywhere in the home - walls, uniforms, crockery - designed to make it feel like an inviting environment, tranquil and calming.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
Lifting Your Gaze Unveils True Beauty
In a small village nestled between rolling hills and verdant fields, lived a young woman named Elara. She was known throughout the village for her kind heart and gentle spirit, but Elara herself had never thought much of her own appearance. She was modest, often hiding behind her long, dark hair, her eyes always cast downward as she walked through the village square.
By Syed Moizuddin2 years ago in Fiction
Fugue State
I awoke in the middle of a crystal, silent, mirror-like lake. Stillness was all around. None of the tree's moved and none of the grass shook. I floated in the middle of the lake in a small rowboat. The boat was white, but most of the paint was cracking and chipped. As I moved inside the boat, small ripples moved out in waves over the surface of the lake. I yelled out, but I didn't even hear my yell. Just quiet and stillness. No one else seemed to be here. I wasn't sure where here was, but I seemed to be alone. I started to think about my friend. As I did I saw an outline of her in the boat. I started talking to her, but as I stopped thinking about her, her image disappeared. I thought of my sister and there she was in the boat. When I stopped, she stopped being. I tried to yell again. Again no voice was heard. There were two oars with the boat. I grab the oars and start to row. I row and row. I seemed to go right through the vegetation, but without disruption. The plants didn't move, the boat never stopped. I put my hand in the water. I felt no essence of wetness. I felt no idea of temperature. To me, from my perspective, it looked like my hand was underwater. The appearance was the only recognizable reaction. Fear took hold. Do I get out of the boat or stay in the boat. Not knowing where or what this is I decide staying in the boat is safer. I would wait for someone.
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
