Microfiction
The night stalker
Nathalie sat staring out the window as the snowflakes danced back and forth in the late November wind. How can they not sense her turmoil, her disappointment that Elizabeth Brighton, owner of Brighton Books had cancelled their meeting again, this was the third one this month. Nath had already written two books and had barely made enough to pay her bills.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
Late Hatcher
A young Andean Flamingo ruffles his feathers as he wakes up, expecting to see his caring mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. Snow had fallen since the previous night, forming a white blanket over the frozen surface on the lake. The young flamingo looked down at his plumage, which had been encased in ice and snow, trapping him to the lake, which was his refuge and source of food. Ironically it was now a death trap, holding him hostage to the ice, and preventing him from reaching his food underwater. Crying out for his mother, his hope of survival dropped lower and lower, as the snow, ice and bone chilling water sapped the life out of his weak body. Mustering all the strength he had, he flapped his wings and pulled his legs in an attempt to free himself from the ice. Pulling out of desperation and the will to live, he gave it one last chance. Squawking loudly and encouraging himself on, he could only imagine being free form the ice, given a second chance. But after several attempts he flopped down defeated, resigning to his fate of becoming food for scavengers like vultures or foxes. The snow gently covered his body, burying him in blankets made of snowflakes and slowly lulling him to a deep sleep from which he would never awake from. As his eyes slowly froze shut, the last of his breath was swirled up into the icy gusts, lost among the mountain winds.
By Jesse Leung2 years ago in Fiction
#6. The Bear...Epilogue
Tears streamed down my face as I made my way towards the abandoned campsite. I stumbled ahead blindly, tripping over obstacles buried beneath the snow. Despite my heavy heart, the snow-covered landscape offered a starkly breathtaking majesty, fresh snow covered everything, and the sun shone prismatic between my tears and the leafless branches of the trees.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
Days of Future Past
For this Story-a-Day, January 22, 2024, I wrote it (will write?) on January 23, which on January 22, is (was?) the future. I had hit writer's block. I was empty. And I was frantic. I had been doing so well. But a story a day is a bit of a challenge (hence, it being a challenge). So, here I am, on the 23 day of the challenge, writing for the 22nd. As if I really did. Who can I fool with this slight-of-hand cardshuffling anyway? Here goes... and remember, it's today, not yesterday, written tomorrow as if it were now, back then. Whoo, I'm a bit dizzy.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
