Microfiction
Out Of Date
“Hey Mum, can I ask you a question?” Allan asks. “Sure honey, what do you want to know?” “At school today the teacher was telling a story but I was running late and missed the start of her narrative. Something about a gallon, whatever that word means.”
By Colleen Millsteed 2 years ago in Fiction
You Leached Her Happiness
It’s been twelve months since you rejected her and since that day she has lived in a world of black and white. There are days that she awakens to the dark clouds that hover over her head, over her bed, over her entire view. Days of such despair that she fights the good fight — and doesn’t always win.
By Colleen Millsteed 2 years ago in Fiction
Paul Stewart: The Kingmaker of Vocal
Heavy the crown that wears the man. Weighty the responsibility that said man wields. Said man being me. There is nothing throwaway or even remotely slight and insignificant about what I do. A well-timed comment and a like from me can lead you onto great and wonderful things around these parts. Eclipsing my own success entirely. Just one first place and a plethora of Top Stories are all I have to my name. While those I paved the way for and who I helped encourage and inspire, have overshadowed me.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
Run Through The Jungle
Author Unknown - April 17th 1968 The Devil himself reached from the jungle and dragged me into hell. A minute before, the jungle across the shallow valley swayed in the spring breeze. Minh glared over the stock of his RPD he had arranged in the brush nest. It was well concealed, and the veteran of three different colonial wars hated how we moved along our trench atop the gently rising hill. Bao and Tran smoked and lounged against the dirt wall. We dug while they smoked, always. I hated them.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
Forced Compliance Not Necessary. Top Story - May 2024.
Some people knew this would happen. The chips in our heads, I mean. Everyone laughed. Isn't that funny? The crazy part: even the conspiracy nuts had a mobile phone. Everyone walked around with the "chip" glued to their hand, eyes glued to chip.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Seasons
I shiver as I pull open the heavy glass door and step out onto the frost-riddled porch. My breath rises like smoke in the cold, and the rushing of the creek fills my ears. Nearby, as I walk toward the gate, I hear the beavers splash in alarm as they sense my presence. I bury my hands deep in the pockets of my thin hoodie, and hunch my shoulders up protectively against my ears. The cold air bites at my cheeks and nose, and the tips of my ears already hurt. It’s barely 30° out, and beneath my foolishly bare toes, the dead brown grass twinkles with frost. The sky is too overcast to see the stars there, but with so many ice-stars beneath my feet, I am satisfied.
By ThatOne_Girl2 years ago in Fiction
Pretty. Content Warning.
The red and blue lights of the ambulance fluttered dimly in the summer sunlight, the black asphalt of the highway the only dark tone amid the golden fields and bright blue sky. I was strangely conscious of the peaceful surroundings around the accident as I ran towards the crumpled Rav-4 on the side of the road. Flames licked the edges of the battered hood, and the dark figure slumped in the front seat was not moving. In the back of the car, mercifully intact, I saw two small hands slapping desperately in the windows. Susan reached the car before me, her lighter figure swifter than my more lumbering bulk. She jerked open the back door and unbuckled the child, scooping it out and setting the young girl on the ground as I set to work on the front door.
By ThatOne_Girl2 years ago in Fiction
Walking on wheels
I’m not sure Dad knows what he’s doing this time. He seems to want to strap something onto my feet. He calls them skates, and he’s convinced that I saw someone else with them and wanted to try. Doesn’t he know I’m only four? Has he forgotten all the time I spent learning to walk?
By Andy Potts2 years ago in Fiction
139 Minutes of the Secret Society of Secrets-Appraisal-for-Secrets-Release Society — Part 1
Thank you, everyone, for attending this week's meeting of the Secret Society of Secrets-Appraisal-for-Secrets-Release Society — the SSSASRS, or as it's quaintly pronounced, "Scissors."
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
