Mystery
Who am I?
The query of who am I seems to be the only question you can actually solution. Yet, when I took the time to try to parent out Who am I, I discovered this question is the one that requires important wondering. In wellknown, the answer to this question is that I am a normal individual who loves spending quality time with the humans I respect. In addition, I dedicate myself to completing my duties, and I actually have a dream of becoming a awesome character. However, there are such a lot of other things that make me someone. I constantly try to use each opportunity to have greater unfastened time for my pursuits.
By Abhinav Pandey3 years ago in Fiction
Thanking Penmanship
Karlene loved to write letters. She would spend hours writing to friends and family. Marla, her only daughter, who was divorced, lives three houses east on the same street. As a child, Karlene would write letters and leave them all over the house for her daughter to find. Marla learned to read and write quickly and would imitate her mother’s letter-writing habits.
By Annelise Lords 3 years ago in Fiction
Unstoppable
I am bone tired. That’s what I get for thinking I could stay up all night drinking with my friends after working a 12 hour shift. There was a dinner party at the country club last night and it was all hands on deck. Being on my feet all day setting up for a party just to have to have to work said party too is, well, just long. Usually, these shifts are broken up, but I leave in a couple weeks for college and I need as many shifts as possible, so I told the shift manager to schedule it. Big. Mistake. Oh well.
By Taylor Jensen 3 years ago in Fiction
Requisite
the low roar of iron wheels claimed the vacancy in an otherwise silent room. Daniel sat swaying with the motion of a scarlett red drape that teased glimpses of light into the trains cabin, He first noticed the dull shimmer of the patinated buckles that held the leather strapping on his wrists and ankles. He sat for what seemed like hours and as questions surfaced like driftwood they were pushed back down beneath the question ‘who is the man in front of me’?
By Yalfin Ken3 years ago in Fiction
The Inevitability of Chaos
Chapter 1 After hours of pondering my current situation, I have come to the conclusion that death is fast approaching. There is no other way to see it. Here I am, sitting on a train, in a first class carriage, with a very angry looking man across from me, holding a spear to my throat. The spear one gentle caress away from ripping open my soul and laughing as my life spills down from my body. Leaving it lifeless and empty.
By Georgia McClelland3 years ago in Fiction
The Despotic Vial
My thumb pressed the plunger down. Every inch of skin bubbled underneath as if my blood began to boil, as if my body tried to escape its leathery shell. The thought of Nandi crosses my mind for the umpteenth time to the point where I imagined her tiny, childlike smile appear. She is nine years old again, the innocent laughter of youth echoing between my ears as she hops and skips on the chalked pavement in front, stretching out her hand towards me. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes as I failed to grasp her hand, wincing at the thought of all the times I have let her down. The illusion persisted, no matter where I looked Nandi would remain in sight. She is older now; still bearing the signs of adolescence on her face. She glowers down at me as I collapse on the epoxy floor of our old apartment. Her mother stands in the threshold of the doorway, bags packed by the door, she grabs Nandi’s hand and drags her away. And just like that, she disappears again for one last time.
By Derrick L.3 years ago in Fiction
