Young Adult
Death Dreams Dire Wolves: Part 4
Chapter Seven:The Fence It's only a little way to walk until Manzer and his two new adverse companions finally reach their destination. The short journey- though short- was one that set Manzer off into an early check out of highschool altogether. The situation was one of the most awkward instances of living Manzer has ever been subject to. Jenny and Alexa definitely have a long awkward history with one another, have known each other for some time as schoolmates that have found themselves grown apart in a few directions, except for their desire to have every living thing worship the ground that they walk on. Manzer does not know whether to just assume that the both of them are crazy psychopaths or just teen girls in highschool.
By Epitome Publishing4 years ago in Fiction
Four Three One
Four Three One Four words- three seconds -one lifetime The young woman stood there as his words echoed in her head, rolling around like metal marbles in an empty coffee can, heavy, going in circles. He probably rehearsed those four words over a million times in his mind, now being very purposefully spoken with planned precision and complete confidence. His voice was a deafening whisper.
By Olive Craiolah4 years ago in Fiction
Don't Let Him Taste What's Yours
Hours of the night slipped away from us as we found ourselves entangled with one another. He felt so good, everything about him made me feel whole as our bodies intertwined; every movement was synchronized and delivered with such care that he made me feel like I was the only woman to exist in his love history. I remember being encased in his arms the first time I woke up. His breathing had grown even, but something told me he was far from sleep. Honestly, I admit I was impressed with him for not having passed out after going a couple rounds with me, most men would be deep in a coma by now. He had stamina that could last for days and was strong; the bruises on my wrist and neck were proof of that. My eyes fluttered open and I rolled over to face him, only he was no longer there. Had he left in the middle of the night? I sat upright, pulling the covers up to shield me from the chill of my apartment.
By shaneikiyaz4 years ago in Fiction
The Wise Woman's Call
Not a single plant has grown since my birthday this past June. And it’s going on August now with no signs of rain coming. Not a taste of moisture in the air or the sight of swelling, dark clouds looming over the horizon. Only the never-ending presence of the beaming sun. Seemingly, baking everything below to a sizzle. The sight of the arid plains makes me frown. I turn around swiftly, tired of looking at it. I pick up my bucket and begin my journey to the community water tower. The last of all the water in this small town. There’s already a line of people by the time I’m there. All of them are neighbors that I’ve known my whole life. I feel sweat beads from my hairline down. The water tower groans as its’ fluids are drained. I stare at the green bold words that read Bountiful over the rusting surface. It too seems to be withering away like the rest of us.
By Kenyona Alexander 4 years ago in Fiction
"I Matter."
Daniel Beck. That's my name. But I hate 'Daniel' so I go by Danny. While I sit in front a burley, tattooed man holding the tattoo needle to the skin of my forearm, tracing out the letters of her name, I can still remember the first day I met her. The first time she hugged me. Kissed me. I could remember it all.
By A.R. Tanner 4 years ago in Fiction
Little Wolf
Freshly baked bread and ripe cheeses. Waxy slightly fermented sweetness of the last of last autumn's apples. Ginger cake. These aromas snaked through the pine trees to my keen canine nose and awoke me, drooling, from my slumber. Oh oh, do you know just how good that felt after the freezing stillness of a long northern winter?
By Lauren M Foster4 years ago in Fiction
Saving Grace
The clock had just hit 2:30 AM. Silence filled the void of the empty house that stood in the far corner of a deserted street. The mildew-covered house looked haunted from the outside, but it did not compare to the true terrorizing horrors inside. Rose, a twelve-year-old girl with almond-shaped, caramel brown eyes, brittle black hair, and porcelain-like skin, was lying on her blush sheets. She was crying discretely to make sure He did not hear her. She was deathly afraid He would enter her room and abuse her frail, tiny body to satisfy His needs. He had already hurt her three times earlier… she was petrified He was going to do it again. Her body was terribly sore from the pain He caused her. Rose’s porcelain-like skin was a canvas. He would paint streaks of black, purple, and green in hidden parts of her body, but He couldn’t control Himself this time. Her once beautiful fair skin was now obscured by His damage. The pink flower-painted door creaked ever so lightly, but even the slightest sound made Rose freeze in fear. She held in her breath and mentally prepared herself for the torture she was about to face.
By Mariana Del Rio4 years ago in Fiction
Under the Sunset Series: Ravi
This piece was originally written on my personal blog Confessions of a Purse Carrier. Self-Care Sundays was Ravi’s ritual. This Sunday was special because it fell on the eve of her 30th birthday. She wanted to pray and reflect and thank the gods for bringing her through to see a new year around the sun.
By Cynthia L. Dorsey4 years ago in Fiction
