Short Story
The Heirloom
Blah, blah, blah. I am in physical pain from trying not to roll my eyes in boredom. Just order your drink and go already. Can you not tell by the complete lack of interest on my face? I have bigger and more pressing matters at hand than discussing your dreadfully boring… whatever it was that you were talking about. Your moustache is too long, and your ridiculous top hat might make others assume you are wealthy, but to me its just part of a façade. Maybe I should give him a drink on the house so he will go back to his table. I need to move this bracelet into the top of my corset so I can sneak it out of here before anyone notices that its gone. It almost feels like its burning my skin being visible to everyone!
By Sarah MacKenzie5 years ago in Fiction
Alice Meets Alyss
Tired of being alone, tired of being the only one to ever do anything wrong, tired of being just "that girl", she stormed out the back door and into the yard. The crash of the door against the jam resounded through the quiet afternoon air. She stood in the center of the yard, the uncut grass tickling her shins through her black and white striped stockings, breathing rapidly in anger and frustration. She wanted to scream.
By Rachal Flewellen5 years ago in Fiction
The Witch Of Cumberland Ave.
When I first saw Mrs. Moore she had a colander on her head and was wearing a green plastic trash bag poncho. She was on a rickety old ladder cleaning out the gutters of her dilapidated house. I congratulated myself on my good fortune — she appeared to be engrossed in her project and her back was towards me as I was attempting to stealth-walk past her front fence without being noticed. I was premature in my celebration as it turns out.
By Valerie Kittell5 years ago in Fiction
The Wedding Toast
You’re looking at me like I’m nutzos. Here’s a guy in a tuxedo vest rooting around like a trash bandit. I promise there’s a good reason. Just give me a minute to explain. See that? You’re a total stranger and I felt the need to explain myself to you. That need happens to be what brought me to this point.
By Peter Wisan5 years ago in Fiction
The Amazing Instant Infant
“Customize your child!” The man on the screen announced excitedly. Dawna and Phil turned to the sound. They were a typical couple. She came from a Korean family. He was Nigerian, Phil Obasi was his full name. They’d been married for five years. They lived at 23 Cherry Tree, the street name and number of a tiny square of dirt, but, as Phil liked to say, it was all theirs and if you considered that their ring of land went straight through the earth, the sixteenth of an acre stretched into a thousand miles.
By Peter Wisan5 years ago in Fiction
We Can Never Run. We Can Never Hide.
"Run, Run, Run, that's all we ever do. Why can't we do something unconventional for a change?" Austria said as she threw her arms down. "Sweatheart, keep running, please, we are almost there–" my husband, Ian said before three IO guards rudely disrupted him.
By Ceo Of Dying5 years ago in Fiction
There's One Just Like it Everywhere
"Tell me a story, stranger." The guy on the opposite stool was a typical weekday drunk, full of good humor at the pain of others and caustic remarks at nothing at all. That he was polite to me was an oddity; perhaps he sensed that I was different, that I was less tethered to this place and its vices than those of his usual company.
By Andrew Johnston5 years ago in Fiction
