Young Adult
Blue
Somewhere north of ultramarine, a little west of cyan; there is a blue that I will never forget. A blue like a robin’s egg. Or that salwar I wore on Eid, my junior year. The bright blue of that portentous New York sky; sprayed with grey puffs like the streaks in my Abbu’s eyes. Puffs that, they said, stole America’s innocence. But what no one talked about, was how it also stole mine.
By Hridith Sudev4 years ago in Fiction
Mr. Black's Death Day
Sitting in the centre of the hospital's first floor cafeteria was neither criminal nor suspicious. If not for the pistol under his jacket, and the target emblazoned on his brain, he might seem like any frequenter of the refuge for the mourning. The cafeteria constituted jell-o for the future widow, stale coffee for the broken mother, and a hitman for Mr. Black.
By Bugsy Watts4 years ago in Fiction
Letters to Daddy (Short)
Letters to Daddy __ 11/10/14 If we had known what you were doing before all of this happened, this NEVER would have happened. Never. Why do you have to be such a martyr? I know you probably didn’t want to worry us, but can you imagine how we all feel now? I feel helpless. You’re lying in a hospital bed, comatose. Doctors have no hope for you. The nurses are all telling us something different, filling us with joyful news. You’re opening your eyes they say. You’re responding to commands they say. Then one ASSHOLE of a doctor comes in and everything has changed.
By Tiffani Gaines4 years ago in Fiction
The Deeper Awakening
His Present The room lit up as the dark setting adjusted to the morning, the natural light from the window flooded in, slowly piercing the shut eyes of the person fast asleep. The curtains lifted and made way for the sunlight to come inside the high-rise apartment that was elevated higher than Mount Everest from sea level. This apartment was built in the new age utopian city of Avalon, which stood firm at an elevation more than even four times that of Mount Everest from sea level. This was the only way the civilians would be protected from destructive radiation, dust, and tropical viruses that ran abundantly in the hell they once called Earth. Avalon was the haven only a few among the human race were able to escape to, created by noble and brilliant minds who wanted to preserve the Earth to its former glory but were hindered by the greed of the rest of the humans who destroyed the Earth. Their savior Dr. Arthemius Musk was the pioneering inventor and Dr. Lancellian Wilkes was the architect for this modern utopia. The Avalonian forefathers' joint efforts saved the good in the human race and hence their legends were spread everywhere. Avalon was founded on the principles of equality to curb the greed that eventually took down the former paradise called “Earth”. The people lived in the Avalon to serve ‘The Renaissance’. The children or adults alike are well versed with the principle of service upon which this city was built.
By Anindita Alstriem4 years ago in Fiction
The Unknown Home
It's been two months since my father died and I’m no closer to figuring out who killed him. No one believes he was murdered, but they didn’t see what I saw; Two men, one short and stocky and the other, tall and athletically built. They were fleeing the house just as I entered to find my father’s lifeless body on our kitchen floor. Once the police and ambulance arrived, they announced that he died from a heart attack, but there’s no way that's true. My dad was the most fit 50 year old in the world. He didn’t eat junk food nor did he smoke or drink. I tried telling the police that this was impossible and that I saw the two men responsible for murdering my father. Instead of helping me, they claimed it was the shock of the loss that made me hysterical. I’ve dealt with my fair share of losses, so I know shock doesn’t explain away what I saw.
By Kayla Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
The Beckoning
A voice beckons her. She wasn’t sure she heard the voice at first because she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. Despite listening carefully, she cannot make out who it is coming from, therefore, gaining her full attention. Shifting in her seat, she looks around to see if the people in the Cafe, or the people on the street, can hear the voice—they don’t. The voice seems to be coming down from somewhere near the ocean. Before she has time to register her actions, the girl stands up—the Cafe and her toast long forgotten—and begins walking down the cobblestone pathway towards the ocean.
By Emma Ogilvie4 years ago in Fiction
Solitude
1) The vibrations under my fingers stroked the ambient jolts as I slept to the sound of the insomniac thunders, amplified by the arguments amongst the clouds. The two-storey cabin shivered as a hot ray of lightning hit a few trees in the forest behind the house.
By Rahil Shah4 years ago in Fiction
