Series
Who's really to blame?
This is how it starts. For an entire decade she played the game of love and obedience. She never twice questioned who the real object of importance was. Him or her. I say twice because the moment she realized they both can’t possibly make it out of this, she-. I’d rather show you.
By Jahvon "Jex" John4 years ago in Fiction
The Concealed Culture Deep Within (part ten.)
Just a few floors above the hospital cafeteria, the ward was eerily silent, but for the incessant 'bleep bleep' noises being emitted from the electronic monitoring equipment all lit by an array of red, blue, green, and yellow, status panels, that were dotted around the 4-bedded independent bay areas, giving the bays more of a sci-fi spaceship-type appearance, rather than simply just one of the many hospital wards. Darkness had long ago shrouded 'Hawthorne 2' ward into night mode. There was a total absence of the usual bright luminescence that otherwise bathed the ward through its waking daytime hours. A slimmed-down complement of staff, every couple of hours, could be noted to be milling around the nursing station areas outside of each bay, tapping inpatient reports into the numerous computers, giving a short respite from the noises of the monitoring equipment in the bays by adding to them with an almost rhythmical 'tap, tap, tap' as fingers met with keyboards. Many a night was much the same as the last, nothing untoward would usually be happening. The night shift had long before nicknamed the nighttime as the graveyard shift, the only difference being was that graveyards never displayed flashing neon-type lights on top of tombstones but save for the main ward corridor where the nurse stations could be found, each bay was cloaked in darkness. Every physical patient check and monitoring check was met by the staff equipped with torches to light their way around each of the beds.
By Jonathan Townend4 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii It was the sensible thing to do, Nigel realized, because in the end it saved them a trip out to Marlborough Manor—not that he wouldn’t have minded a trip out to the countryside. But from what they were able to sort out, it seemed that Chernetsov’s son was undergoing surgery in London. It had something to do with the accident he’d had—Nigel remembered hearing something about the man being sent to the hospital before the ball they’d attended last week. He couldn’t remember all the details, but felt certain it would come to him eventually.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
A Mother's Priority | Chapter 2
Disclaimer: This story has multiple parts. To read the previous part, click here. It's been a couple weeks since we left the hospital. Tate was such an attentive father the second we got back home, but around the third day he started to pick up more shifts at work and began to drink again. He claimed it was due to the stress of his job, but I knew he just couldn't handle the amount of times Lola cries every day. You'd think he'll understand how a baby operates, being the oldest of six siblings, but her cries still manage to upset him. His youngest sister, Caitlyn, came over the second day Lola was home but Tate sent her away. He explained how he didn't feel comfortable having her take care of a baby when she was just a baby herself; her only being fourteen and all. I tried to explain to him that Caitlyn probably just wanted to be a good aunt, but all that did seem to do was make him angrier. So typically, it's just Lola and I.. together against the world, with Tate coming home occasionally to either sleep, drink, or spend time with his daughter as long as she wasn't "being disruptive" as he calls it.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Lake of Souls Chapter 8
Previous Chapter When I opened my eyes I was surprised. I hadn't died and gone to the lake. Considering a giant tentacle was dropped on me this was confusing. Also I couldn't move my limbs. I craned my head side to side to see that I was nailed to some structure. Both of my arms and legs were nailed down by thick icicles. I looked down to see the Water King below me. He was a thin emaciated man. His hair is the color of dried out algae. I could see his ribs and count them even from my spot above him. He was pacing back and forth muttering to himself not looking at me. Finally I spoke, "Excuse me? Could you let me down please?"
By Josephine Mason4 years ago in Fiction
Dreamer - Chapter 21
Disclaimer: This story has multiple parts. To read the previous part, you can click here. I tried to scream. Tried to let out any form of words, but I was unable to let any sound escape from my lips. His arm squeezed my neck a little too tightly for me to speak. The only sound I had been able to manage out came out as a tiny squeak; almost as if someone let a mouse out of the science lab.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
