Series
Uncharted Territory
The morning sunlight streamed through the window, enveloping Emma's bedroom in a comforting, golden hue. With a racing mind, she rose from the bed, contemplating the monumental decision that stood in front of her. Should she opt for the secure and familiar route, or should she embrace the uncharted territory and welcome fresh challenges? The gravity of the choice weighed heavily upon her, and she recognized the necessity of finding solace in solitude to gain clarity of thought.
By The Liv Chapters3 years ago in Fiction
Small Town Beginnings
Emma Rogers had always harbored ambitions of leaving her small hometown and pursuing a career in the bustling city, but fate seemed to have other plans for her. Stuck in Sleepy Hollow, New York, she toiled away as a secretary for the local newspaper, completing monotonous tasks that hardly tested her abilities. Her boss, a self-important editor, was of no help either, failing to recognize important news even when it was staring him in the face. Emma's existence seemed stagnant and unfulfilling, and she longed for a more exhilarating life.
By The Liv Chapters3 years ago in Fiction
Ghosts From the Past Ch. 1
Caz woke suddenly, sitting straight up in his bed. He reached up, wiping sweat from his forehead. Another nightmare, which was already fading from his mind. At one point in his life, these were a common occurrence. Now though, he couldn’t remember the last time he had one. He reached over and grabbed his phone to check the time. ‘03:23’ showed on the screen. Well, it’s not like I’m going to be able to fall back to sleep thought Caz. He swung his legs out of the blankets and over the bed and stood up. He pulled on some sweats and a t-shirt and walked over to start a pot of coffee. As the coffee pot made its ritual noises while warming up, Caz began his daily workout. He started off by stretching and waking up his muscles, jump rope, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, then more stretching. He ended by taking 5 complete cycles of controlled breathing.
By K.F. Wheeldon3 years ago in Fiction
The Begining
It was a crisp November morning, the sun had not yet managed to penetrate through the stubborn cloud cover, so shadows still clung to the corners of the house. The grounds were scarce in stark contrast with the overbearing manor, it’s dark stone walls, gothic windows and spindly towers making a bold statement in the little wood clearing. Tall oaks bereft of leaves bordered the property, their long branches reaching out towards the manor as if the forest were trying to reclaim its rightful land. Leaves hung around the base of the trees, their colors muted by weeks of neglect and decay. A short, portly woman hurried up the path following the crumbling stone wall that led up to the old manor. Her skirts tangling around her legs in the strong late autumn breeze. Though even the wind was unable to move a single strand of hair in her stubbornly tight bun.
By Claire Jones3 years ago in Fiction
Ghosts From the Past Ch. 4
Caz’s mind was spinning as he walked his way back to Heidi’s desk. Any hope that his and Jackson’s shared past wasn’t connected to this case was gone. He needed to get some more information before talking to the Captain though. Once the administration found out, he would likely be pulled from the case.
By K.F. Wheeldon3 years ago in Fiction
Ghosts From the Past Ch. 3
Red and blue lights flashing in the fog only allowed Caz to see the chaotic shifting of silhouettes as they swarmed toward the house he lived in. Even being on the second story, he couldn’t see enough to gauge how many of the trespassers had come. All the lights in the house were on, everyone was running back and forth shouting. He heard footsteps coming toward his door and turned in time to see it swing inward. It was Papa, he was out of breath as if he had been running. There was a rifle slung on his shoulder and a long-bladed knife tucked into his belt.
By K.F. Wheeldon3 years ago in Fiction
Ghosts From the Past Ch. 2
Memories flooded Caz’s mind as he flew towards the station. The buildings and cars around him blurred into the background. He remembered the agony of the needle marking his skin as a young child. The look of pride on the face of Joachim Amsel, Papa to ‘The Family.’ At the time, Amsel had noted the strength Caz showed by not crying or showing any signs of the pain he felt. The praise had filled him with his own pride back then. Papa was not one to give out unearned compliments.
By K.F. Wheeldon3 years ago in Fiction
Bits & Pieces
What follows is an experiment I have conducted before, where I pool my decaying Vocal fragments and attempt to bind them in some cohesive manner. While I do put honest effort into molding the overall piece, it is still an attempt more desperate than intended--mainly because of the platform's 600 word minimum (for non-poetry submissions), which I find a hindrance and nothing more.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man3 years ago in Fiction
