Microfiction
If Only
She was on her knees. If only it was so simple she could just get up, if only they weren't all dead. She watched the breath escape from her mouth in a small cloud, attempting to let the cold into her bones one more time. She tried, she knows she tried. They fought hard and really that's all that mattered now, it was over.
By Haven Korte2 years ago in Fiction
Goodbye Little Girl
I stare at my footprints embedded deep within the snow, and I replay monumental moments in my life. I remember waking up to the smell of fresh baked bread, and I would know grandma was there to visit,but she stopped when grandpa got sick. The house never smelled the same again. I can remember chasing my baby brother on mama's freshly waxed floors, slipping and sliding with the grace of Elvis. But then he grew up, started his own family, and moved away. Little Sue from around the corner would come and play on the swings in my front yard with me. We would laugh at all the yucky boys, but eventually she stopped finding them so yucky, and visited their house instead. My daddy decided he liked the family a few towns over more than us, so he left, before I got my high school degree. Mama would tirelessly clean every nook and cranny to keep her mind preoccupied, until osteoporosis made her bones too weak. Now, she just sits in her cottage alone. As for me, when I got that acceptance letter, I too left. But....... the house never left me. As I stare into the house, I see the little girl I once was, sadly waving goodbye to me. I scribble my name in the snow, hoping to leave behind another piece of me. This house may be sold, but it will always be home for me. I wonder who will replace my footprints in the snow.
By ImperfectlyPerfect2 years ago in Fiction
Welcome to my Parlor!
It was a warm enough fall day, and the giant fly buzzed around the spider with a raging fury as if it were asking for trouble to come upon it. The spider saw the value of eating the fly almost as a last meal in her old age. The spider quickly constructed the tiny web in hopes of getting one last meal before she succumbed to the death that she knew was coming to her. It took just under an hour to construct the web, but it was a job done, but too little, too late, for the fly, well it was possible that something else got to eat it first, as it was no longer a bother to the spider.
By Timothy E Jones2 years ago in Fiction
The Peddler-Woman
The peddler-woman sells things that cannot be bought, and everyone knows it. Others in the market sell beautiful things; sweaters and scarves, cutting boards and cooking pots, wine bottles and woven rugs. The crafters sew, carve, weld, sculpt, or brew all they sell, each to perfection. The peddler-woman wordlessly wheels her cart through the snow-dusted square; perched perilously on her shelves are storms and sunshine, long days and late nights, birdsongs and battle cries, quick thoughts and quiet musings. She hides her face behind heavy scarves and low hats of no particular color, but her eyes gleam through even the thickest snowfalls. I should know.
By Emily Cummings2 years ago in Fiction
The Woman in the Window
December 1926, Harrogate The woman gazes out of the window at the chilly, beautiful town bustling away below, her face as blank as a page. Unaware of the frantic search for her that is taking place at this very moment, she can't hear the dogs barking and snuffling, looking for her trail.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
The Lonely Playground
Just a few months ago, the playground was the go-to place for kids to go to and play, but that was before the snow covered everything from the merry-go-round to the swings and all the things that lie in between. For they were all the same, lonely for the attention that comes with the warmer weather, yes again they'll have their day.
By Timothy E Jones2 years ago in Fiction
