Series
Rituals and Rites
I turn, watching the sleek skirts swish smoothly about my legs. “It’s beautiful.” I whisper. “It suits you.” My soon-to-be mother-in-law says, coming up behind me with a flower wreath in her hands. She settles it into my hair, smoothing the streamers along my back. I fidget with my sleeves.
By Phoenixica2424 days ago in Fiction
Broken Safe Haven - Chapter 2
Click here to read Chapter 1 The light of the morning sun gently brought Katelyn into consciousness. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then looked around the room. In her groggy state, the mess of the room felt emotionally draining. She sighed, then forced herself out of bed. A shiver made her realize she had slept in her swimsuit. Luckily, the men who came had left her clothes, though they were scattered about the room. She changed into some jeans and a punk rock t-shirt. She also changed the bandages on her feet. They were swollen and ached from the cuts she had endured the day before. Unable to get shoes on them, she settled for a pair of brown fuzzy slippers that looked like dogs.
By Eric Boring25 days ago in Fiction
Day 7: Flood...a what? . Content Warning.
Assesment: Not being volunteer number one feels slightly desspointingly promising. When Cornman Ron asked what happened to the last ones, of course only learning that after, while I took hold of the approved recorder, he was shrugged off with a pat on his back. I folded a notebook in half to keep in my cargo pants for the experience journal Wolfman Patrick called necessary. That’s where it stayed, whether I gave a damn about what was happening here or not. I used previous recordings to get to where the last guy left off, sounding familiar as hell, to get a sense of what I was expecting. What curse would get me, what sacrifice would do me in? I don't know any more, and I used to like that.
By Willem Indigo27 days ago in Fiction
Winter Series 2025 - When the Sun Forgot Us for a Moment (PART II)
That morning, the Sun hesitated; it did not announce itself with disaster or spectacle. There were no sirens, no collapsing networks, no urgent alerts vibrating in pockets. Light simply arrived differently, spreading across the city with an unfamiliar patience, lingering on rooftops and sidewalks as if it were deciding whether the day truly needed to begin. People noticed the change not with panic but with intuition. Coffee cooled untouched. Footsteps slowed. Conversations stretched into pauses that felt intentional rather than awkward, as though time itself had loosened its grip just enough to let the world inhale.
By José Juan Gutierrez 29 days ago in Fiction
Winter Series 2025 - Snow Does Not Fall the Same Way Twice (Part III)
Snow looks identical until you stay long enough to watch it fall. From a distance, winter appears repetitive - the same cold, the same gray skies, the same quiet streets. But snow, like memory, reveals its truth only to those willing to slow down. Each flake carries a distinct geometry. Each winter arrives believing it is both the first and the last of its kind.
By José Juan Gutierrez 29 days ago in Fiction
