Microfiction
Perdy's walk through the woods
One day Perdy decides to go out for a walk in the woods with no name. He wanted to explore his new surroundings a little more closely after making new friends. In meeting his friend Gus at the old barn Perdy wanted to look around more closely at this falling down place. He entered gingerly even for a caterpillar for he still had to look out for small cracks he could fall through. He saw a set of stairs and he headed that way and started to climb them. There were only five steps, but he needed a rest when he reached the top looked around and saw an old poster on the wall. He crawled over to it and saw that at one time this was a place where dances were held. After he looked at the poster the sun was coming through the window and he decided to go back down the stairs and continue his walk.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Fiction
Pissing on Fate. Content Warning.
I reach between my legs, past the thick black fuzz and probe between, in the hot, secret place. There it is! There's a knack. To release the pressure so you can pull it out easily. It slides out, and I angle it so that the contents plash on the white toilet bowl.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Mystical Mirage: The Ego's Labyrinth
In the ancient land of Ardynia, nestled amidst lush forests and rolling hills, two opposing forces clashed: the Ego-driven and the Egotistical. At the heart of the conflict lay the mysterious Temple of Balance, a place of immense power where the forces of light and darkness converged.
By Anthony K. Bryan-KagintonPackage2 years ago in Fiction
'Secrets of Arcane Academy'
Nestled within the heart of the mystical forest stood the Arcane Academy, an imposing tower crafted from marble and infused with the very essence of magic. It was here that young wizards and witches honed their arcane abilities, seeking to unlock the secrets of the mystical arts. Among the students was Luna, a gifted mage with an insatiable curiosity for unraveling enigmas.
By TONE TALKS2 years ago in Fiction
Urning a Living
He had a treasure box where he kept everything he'd lost. He resisted reappraising them because it was the past. Rummaging through it would be like trying to translate Homer into Tarot, neither medium in his wheelhouse. How could things from his past be translated with the language of things to come? Things in his past were written in a dead language; things in his future still hid in probability clouds, awaiting sublimation.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Mother's Day. Content Warning.
As she rounded the corner, she was met with a face that was just like hers. But Amy could sense that this woman's spirit was different. There was a cautious wariness to her, like she'd been wounded again and again and not all of the scars were sealed or healed. With every movement, she looked cowed.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
