Series
The Pursuer Of The Vampires
The young boy was sitting on the ground with a deep sharp claw mark pierced through his chest with crimson red blood flowing throughout his wound dyeing the floor with a bloody haze. A figure standing in front of him with black raven-like wings, staggering in the air, wearing a short petite skirt with a wicked smile on her face.
By Siddhesh Gamare4 years ago in Fiction
The Hope War: Chapter 1
Yesterday he saved a life. Yesterday he was a hero, and everybody knew his name. All he did was pull a toddler from the rushing flood water. The toddler would have been a goner, sucked under the water where debris would have held onto the body until it decayed enough to either disappear or finally float to the surface and be found.
By Jessica Stratton4 years ago in Fiction
What time is it?
The sound of this clock ticked at an annoying pace, every time Sherline glanced she could only see the big hand of the clock beside the broken TV in her hospital room she lived in Seattle her companion she had was her cat Mimi who could not walk her through chemotherapy. Her long-distance boyfriend she has never met in person, they skype and facetime from time to time, she always finds an excuse of why she never could see him on camera. Once on Valentine, she decided to purchase a cherry-colored wig with a bang and stayed on the camera for an hour before claiming her phone lost power. The two made various attempts to see one another. The previous summer Sherline visited her grandmother in Cincinnati who died of chemo last year. *Sighs*Sherline whispered to herself, I miss her dearly.
By Amourè Deezyy4 years ago in Fiction
Gone the Tides of Earth
In the late hours of morning, I am woken and told we are to make ourselves ready for active duty that evening. Such as do beat cops, our task is to make rounds, patrol the festivities and strike sentry positions near some of the more popular proceedings.
By James B. William R. Lawrence4 years ago in Fiction
Gone the Tides of Earth
Towards the banks of the river are setups of faux gladiator pits carved out into dirt circles with imported chalklike sands. These favoured exhibitions are heralded with money-clenched fists and hurrah of both personnel and samaritans alike. Most of the sporting is kayfabe, except every so often a real money bout occurs when amateur boxers, mixed-martial artists, or trained combat specialists (blunted spears, shortswords) take the ring.
By James B. William R. Lawrence4 years ago in Fiction
A Murder of Crows
Author's Note: Within this chapter, the main character, Claire, reads a book of poetry. The poem that she reads in the book is not a poem written by me. Instead, it is written by a fellow Vocal author, Julianna Byrd. The poem, "In the Wake of a Storm", is used with her express permission, though I have only used a single verse of the whole. Her creativity deserves the honor of recognition. Thank you, Julianna!
By Anthony Stauffer4 years ago in Fiction
Write In The Middle Of It
Brett didn't remember beating Sadiah or leaving the alley. He didn't remember walking home, climbing the stairs, or entering his room. He didn't remember taking off his blood -soaked sweater, or blood splattered pants. He didn't remember putting his clothes into a trash bag before he meticulously washed Sadiah's blood off of his hands, forearms, face and scraped the blood from his fingernails. He didn't remember putting on his black sweats and leaving the room. He didn't remember throwing the trash bag in the dumpster behind his building.
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Fiction
Beginners Guide to Loneliness
Kurt sat alone on their brown leather couch, worn and splotched with tan cracks from whomever the previous owner was, the middle lower than the sides from the lack of other asses to fill the seats. They held a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills, wishing they had the forethought to procure any kind of alcohol to wash down the hasty gas station purchase. They poured a fist full of little blue pills, and swallowed them one by one. Each time making a conscious decision to go through with it.
By Sonny Curtin4 years ago in Fiction
