Microfiction
Good Ol’ Quality Time
Birthday presents were never my thing, to me the concept was all materialistic and no meaning. If anything, I preferred sentimental gifts; quality time was always better than stuff. But when my buddy texted me saying that something was arriving at my apartment later, I groaned.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 years ago in Fiction
Chain of evidence
By the time I got back to the house, there was a patrol car waiting. A uniform stepped out of the passenger side and, confirming my ID, asked for my car keys. I prised them apart from my extensive collection and handed them over. As the patrolman drove off in my car, his buddy following him, a third car screeched to a halt outside.
By Raymond G. Taylor2 years ago in Fiction
Extra D. Content Warning.
She scrutinises herself in the mirror. Has she done well enough smoothing away her flaws? The thought of what this evening promises warms her from her scalp to the deepest, most secret part of her belly. It drowns any guilt she feels about Martin, who thinks she's going to a movie night with her girlfriends.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Rumination
Greyscale paints my view with as much enthusiasm as the death that grips my mind. The cars continue to release a deep gray fog that blends into the toxicity already present. The bench beneath my existence thaws and dampens but is a feeling I add to the list of those I bury deep. I try not to feel it.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 years ago in Fiction
Poor Houdini
Cold girls, like Eddy's mother, live by a lake and are reminded of things like chemical plant fires, mists in the playground, and his brother's fractured collarbone. As Eddy's brother eats, Eddy's mother grins and carries on with her fruit cup. While Eddy observes the water at the lake change from slate to black, the chilly females ruminate on past experiences and rhymes.
By Bishnu Kumar 2 years ago in Fiction
