Microfiction
Storm in a Teapot
Those who know, know. Tea is not just tea. The tea is the life. It's not just the caffeine and tanins that perks you up and mellows you out. It's the whole ritual. Really boiling the water, brewing the tea, selecting exactly the right mug. Wrapping your fingers round and sipping while it's hot.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
We Were. Top Story - January 2024.
Two hours later, the space between the frantic crying of my human and the ringing of silence collide to taunt me. As I lie motionless in this crevice I barely even know myself anymore. One thing I am certain of is my memory is much more acute than that of my human, for I recall in vivid detail how I ended up here, while she on the other hand, has not one inclination of where I can be found. The wonder if ever to be found, has come up several times, but I have always been more of an optimist so I do not dwell long on this thought.
By Pōlani Monderen 2 years ago in Fiction
Exhilarating Runs
Every couple of years, we seek out the thrill that only mountain skiing can offer. The snow covered mountains of Alaska will take your breath away. When you're at the base of these majestic mountains, clothed in the most blinding, crystal white snow, you gaze up, sometimes almost ninety degrees, and you're in absolute awe. We're always in search of the best lines. It may be comparable to when a surfer catches a great wave.
By Hummingbird2 years ago in Fiction
Yeti Encounter
The Yeti came out of nowhere. The wind was howling and all I could see was blowing snow and ice and blackness and then suddenly it was there right in front of me. The creature had to be at least twelve feet tall. It's fur was white as purest snow, but matted and coated in ice. Disturbingly, blood could been seen, no doubt from a recent kill, dripping from the giant fangs which protruded from its bear-like face. When it roared the blood flew from its mouth splashing in rivulets on the snow, melting it partially where it landed and turning it from white to red. I was so close that some of the blood splattered across my face. I could taste the iron in it as it dripped down along into the corners of my mouth. I spat out the acrid blood and immediately reached for my sidearm. Fortunately I had just removed my gloves as I had stopped to light a fire or surely I would have had no chance. I drew the gun as quickly as possible and fired off three shots in quick succession. The noise was deafening as it echoed off the canyon walls. The creature fell back just as an avalanche, triggered by the noise of the gun crashed down upon us both. We fell together, tumbling down the side of mountain carried away by the rushing snow mixed with mud and rocks. I blacked out then and awoke five days later. Still alive.
By Everyday Junglist2 years ago in Fiction
Dulling the pain
Misplaced. Honestly, an irregular thing for me. I am an instrument of death. An artist of torture. My handle was crafted for my owner to never lose grip, my blade usually gets sharpened every day. I lay abandoned on the cold floor of a basement. Tossed to the side without any second thought in my opinion. This type of betrayal, I can only dream of giving the same treatment to my owner as he had done to his endless victims. Stabbings, quick slashing, shallow cuts, even punches with my handle. The glorious job of being a serial killer’s murder weapon.
By Sara Zervos2 years ago in Fiction
"The Weekend"
She arrived home to four inches of freshly fallen snow. The thought of a warm fire and a hot toddy made her smile. She looked forward to a weekend of solitude and relaxation. Alex was out of town until Monday and the thought of not having to fight for the remote or listen to his sports blasting on the radio was bliss. Besides she wouldn't start to miss him until then anyway. As she opened her front door Buster came running, as he always did.
By Pamela Walsh-Holte2 years ago in Fiction
Snow Turn
My name is John Frost. I’ve been out in the mountains for a few days with my family for the holidays. I wish I had known it was gonna snow before I came. I drove to the store to get some last minute things before the weather got bad, but my truck stalled out in the storm. Now I’m walking in the cold trying to make it back to my family on foot.
By Joe Patterson2 years ago in Fiction
