Excerpt

Born in January
It wasn’t the right time to leave a party, nor the right time to tell your hostess you weren’t feeling well and you had to leave immediately. The hostess shook her head like the defection was nothing new and went back to attending to her more worthwhile guests. Annaliese’s friend, Kimberly, offered to drive her back to the house, but Annaliese wouldn’t hear of it.
By Stephanie Van Orman30 days ago in Fiction
Cut Like Glass
“I’m sorry, Sir. She won’t get out of the car,” the driver explained hoarsely. It had been a long day with the wedding and all the guests that needed to be carted to and fro.
By Stephanie Van Orman30 days ago in Fiction
Witch's First Primer
˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖Welcome to the Fractallian sisterhood of witches ˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖ From Amelia Gand
By K.B. Silver 30 days ago in Fiction
📖 The Ending That Finally Made Sense
For a long time, Sophie believed endings were supposed to feel final. She imagined them as sharp moments — doors closing, words said too loudly, tears that demanded witnesses. She thought endings had to announce themselves clearly, so you would know exactly when something was over.
By Zidane30 days ago in Fiction
*#The Split#* Thursday, December 21, 2012
It was the day before court and this was supposed to be a quick and easy custody battle. Toby’s mother was hardly putting up a fight. With all the evidence she had practically handed him, and now Timmy breaks his arms sledding the day before court.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
Wednesday, October 24th, 2012
The courtroom in Kenosha County was brightly lit through the large row of windows along the Southern wall of the building. The antique wooden pews, wooden wall paneling and trim were all faded from many years of use. There was a musty smell that reminded Anton of the loft in his biological father’s garage, were he kept his stash of PlayBoy magazines. Unfortunately, that peaceful familiar aroma was being overpowered by the stench of body odor and weed radiating from the younger guy about ten feet away.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
“May I speak to Anton Heft, please,” requested the professional voice over the phone. Anton was finishing up another roof for Steve when the phone rang. He was in a filthy pair of ripped-up blue jeans that looked as though they’d been through several years worth of roof jobs. His filthy tank top was rolled and tied around his forehead like Jim McMahon’s headband. The combination of the dirt, humidity and roof tar smeared various shades of black and gray all over his body and clothes.
By Anton Mathias Heft about a month ago in Fiction
The Silent Climb
In a peaceful village nestled between vast hills and serene lakes, lived a boy named Ayan. He was known for his quiet nature, yet his mind was bursting with dreams. Unlike his peers who were satisfied with routine, Ayan longed for adventure, exploration, and achievement—all synonyms of the ambitions he nurtured silently.
By meerjananabout a month ago in Fiction
The Silent Climb
In a quiet village nestled between green hills and calm lakes, there lived a boy named Ayan. He was quiet by nature, often seen sitting under the old fig tree with a faraway look in his eyes. While others played, he would sketch mountains, write in his worn notebook, and stare at the peaks beyond the horizon.
By meerjananabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lantern in the Attic
There was a house on the edge of the village that no one spoke of, not unless the wind was still and the night felt too long. It stood at the top of the hill, half-hidden by ivy and time, its windows clouded with dust, its porch sagging under the weight of years. The other children said it was cursed. They claimed they’d seen shadows where there should be none, heard laughter when the house had been empty for decades.
By meerjananabout a month ago in Fiction
The Window That Waited
In a quiet corner of the city, where the traffic never quite quieted and the buildings leaned into each other like old friends, stood a weathered apartment block with peeling paint and a rusted fire escape. It wasn’t grand or new, but it had stood for decades, holding stories in its walls.
By meerjananabout a month ago in Fiction
Incompetence Aforethought
"All right, the fire has been put out, but we'd still like to do an inspection for stability before we let anyone back in."
By Natasja Roseabout a month ago in Fiction