Mystery
Tick Tock Goes The Clock
Tick Tock, Tick Tock the clock goes, moves as time comes, and flows. To where? No one knows, or do they? Is time real? Or is it just something we humans made up to make sense of our perceptions because of how our minds are wired? I know that we in our human vessels will never really know until our souls are back home, with Source. As a child, I was always interested in time and space, what it is, and why we exist. Such deep questions twisted around in my head cyclone style in a never-ending tropical storm. I could stare up into the sky for hours on end. "What's out there?" rang deep down to my inner soul. I still struggle with daily occurrences in wondering The Big WHY? I often get caught at green lights changing unnoticed, woken by a blaring horn from deep in thought.
By Kimberly Paulus4 years ago in Fiction
All is luminous, but still unknown
Effie sat on the colourless grass, eating colourless strawberries she’d bought from a colourless supermarket, the latter being nothing to do with her colour blindness. She watched as ant-like visitors returned on foot from the tiny island poking out of the sea a few hundred yards offshore. Most of the time, access could only be gained by boat, but at low spring tide a footpath is revealed, a path which the turn of the tide would totally submerge again. If she was lucky, the unwary would get caught out and she would leave her grassy dune, race down to the shoreline and jump into her dinghy to race out to rescue them—for a price!
By Elaine Ruth White4 years ago in Fiction
Gara
His feet felt like they were being stabbed by daggers with every step he took, and his arms were begging for a break from smacking vegetation to the side to move. He had been running for three days now, without food or water; and beginning to take a toll on him, exhaustion crept its way through him. He stopped for a second to catch a breath, resting his hands on his knees as he panted. He looked up and, in front of him, a dirt road that contorted across the forest manifested itself. After some thought, he stood up and decided to follow it.
By Writing For Me4 years ago in Fiction
Cindy's Pond
Cindy said that she found her father’s naked body near the pond in the backyard of their house. She claimed he was lying face down on his right side, with his lower half still in water and upper half on land when she came upon him. He had died almost immediately because there were no signs of struggle.
By Joseph Upton4 years ago in Fiction
The Dome
It happened at exactly midnight. The power went out in our whole town. I live in a small, boring town, only a couple hundred people live here. So, it wasn't weird that so many came outside to see what happened and to check on their neighbors. None of us were expecting what we were about to see.
By Tales from a Madman4 years ago in Fiction
A new world
The sun rose over the mountains as Ash opened the zip to her little hiking tent. Still inside her sleeping bag she peeked out and let out her little terrier, Harry so he could relieve himself. She smiled as the warmth of the sun hit her face and closed her eyes to savour it all. She was alone, in her tent with her best mate, little Harry and enjoying just being a part of nature. She thought about lying back down and dozing for a while but she also really wanted a warm coffee inside her, so she reluctantly unzipped her sleeping bag, pulled on her yellow down jacket, put her feet into her teva sandals and slipped her beanie over her tangle braids. Harry came pounding up to her, with all the energy of a puppy first thing in the morning, despite being nearly 6yrs old. She grabbed some doggie biscuits from his pouch and put them on the tree log beside her and Harry greedily ate them up. She set up her jetboil to boil some water and made a coffee. Holding the cup in both hands she breathed in the smell and felt the warmth soaking into her ice-cold fingers. She savoured that first sip and felt it start to warm her from the inside out.
By Jaqui O'Donohoe 4 years ago in Fiction
Round and Green
VOCAL contest: Green light It was New Year’s Eve, 1987, and I was sitting on a dock on the St. Lawrence River, the infamous Thousand Islands, with my husband, Jeff. The night was clear and dark, with the moon just beginning to wax. It was 4°F and the River was frozen solid. The quiet was almost deafening: no insects, no animals, no people, and not even fireworks. So different from the decades of summers my family had spent here at our cottage. We were all alone for a cozy, quiet, long weekend for New Year’s Eve.
By Lynn Henschel4 years ago in Fiction
