Young Adult
The Price We Pay For Flight
Growing up I had everything. The perfect parents who spoiled me with unconditional love and affection. I got everything I ever longed for, endless gifts no matter the price range. If I asked, it was mine, no questions asked. Never did I predict how much I was going to lose.
By sarah neely4 years ago in Fiction
Maisie Marvels Presents: The Time Clock
Many people dream of traveling back and forth in time. What if there is a way to do that? Among my many travels as a freelance journalist, I, Maisie Marvels have found a small antique European style clock that does just that. This item although appears exquisite and beautiful is so much more than a decorative time piece.
By Erika Ravnsborg4 years ago in Fiction
Legal
“What’s so special about being eighteen? I don’t get it.” The girl lying on the pastel pink bedspread drops the phone she holds over her head and faces her school-loaned laptop. “What’s there not to get?” she asks, pushing away the thick tendrils that fall in front of her eyes.
By Maya Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Struggles on Memory Lane
Hot as hell, stuck. Stranded in a dark bottomless pit. The stench of dampness and rot surrounded her, Emily began to wonder how she got here but her attention was quickly turned by the distorted figure wondering slowley out of nothingness towards her. Long dark tangled hair drowned oddly familiar features that she couldnt place. She wasn’t sure what emotion she seen piercing into her but she stared back curiously unwilling to show fear towards the strange woman who was surrounded by what she could only describe as a netted vale of thick misted haze. She wondered if she reached out what would happen.
By Lisa davies4 years ago in Fiction
Lives I've Lived
I've never understood humanities irrational fear of death. The obsessive need to believe death is something that can be wrangled or broken like the spirit of an animal into submission. An inevitability that is capable of being outwitted to the point of complete avoidance. People battle with the concept of death as if it doesn't slowly lurch towards all of us with every step we take and every breath we are allowed to experience. In my 30 years I've had the honor of walking with death twice. I like to think of us as close friends or comrades-in-arms. People see death as a defeat or a battle lost. Like it's some form of chaotic violence that needs controlling. The idea is like a fly trying to stop us semitruck as it roars down the freeway going 60 miles an hour. Death is an inescapable truth, a finish line to the marathon of this existence in which we call life. In my experience death is gentle and kind. That unique moment when a butterfly chooses you. When you feel it land softly on your skin like a whisper. A gentle wind felt in between each flutter of its wings. Death should not invoke fear, but an appreciation for the time life has allowed you to live. There is beauty in death.
By Shelbie Rolland4 years ago in Fiction
Thursdays
Charlie woke up in a burned-out shell of a house with a rat scurrying by her feet, sniffing for crumbs of food. Grey morning light unfurled through cracks in the black wood. Raindrops pooled in small puddles all around her. She curled her body into a ball and fought to fall back asleep where her dreams were warm and her husband alive.
By MJ Davison4 years ago in Fiction
Escape to Unknown
Arden Palace, home to the Everbright Royals, rulers over the island of Camridian. For thousands of years, an Everbright has sat upon the throne. Sworn to rule justly and judge righteously, every ruler must abide by a set of rules in order to maintain order and present a valuable model for all to follow. In this way, the people believed in their rulers and life was peaceful for many generations.
By Mariam Michalak4 years ago in Fiction
Honeysuckle, Silent Flight
I sit on the bench so long my ass goes numb. I think whoever’s in charge of the landscaping forgot this was here. For a while, based on the amount of honeysuckle vine wrapped over the back of it, creeping over from the copse of trees and underbrush surrounding the manicured grounds of the bird sanctuary. My bench is in a secluded place in the park. Easy to overlook.
By Kayla Jones4 years ago in Fiction
A Grandpa's Truth
A Grandpa’s Truth Chapter 1 One hot summer evening, I sat in my grandfather’s bedroom listening to his short wave radio. It was a gift from my uncle, after his last tour of duty in Vietnam. A light breeze from the window, the glow from his pipe bowl and the indicator light from the radio made me drowsy. The radio was an oriental wonder of light mahogany wood and push buttons, it looked like a cathedral of sound on the telephone table against the wall.
By Dennis Staples4 years ago in Fiction
