Fable
Some Day My Prince Will Go
It was pretty scary watching the witch sing "Happy Birthday". Instead of being pursed in disapproval, as usual, her mouth stretched into a smile so wide it made me think of strychnine. Meanwhile, her eyes stayed as cold and unblinking as a hawk, with a nose to match. She wore the inevitable silky blouse, twenty years out of date and buttoned right up to her wrinkled neck, but today it was little-girl pink. Even her trousers were pink. The outfit clashed hideously with her strident plum hair, and I couldn't help thinking it was going to get stained when she shinnied down the tower.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
SAME AS ME?
To the lost and the fallen, to the beaten and the broken, to the sad and the happy who have yet to feel that moment of sadness when a loss is the saddest part of your day; alas, loss the saddest part of your day, perhaps a week, oh loss, the saddest part of your week; loss, perhaps even longer. Some would say why lose when you can win, for the winner may not be a sinner, but to lose dear winner is not choice but happenstance, sometimes. Fear not, a dear friend of loss, for winning is not all that it appears, but striving for it is a noble idea when the idea itself is noble to all, for winning for winning's sake is folly for the foolish. So win, a dear friend of loss for to try is freedom, and when restraints are put onto thee stand strong, for tomorrow is yet another day to try, to live.
By James Green4 years ago in Fiction
Backlash
The cat ate the mouse and found it tasty. It was yummy at first sight. And yummy at first smell. All the popcorn you could imagine. To your hearts content. In the meantime they would circle each other in a cat and mouse dance. The winner of the dance competition take all. They would become a slave to themselves. I wonder how I would write when I am super tired. Let us find out. As long as the cat enjoyed the mouse it would find itself in the can. The cat had an odd smell to it a mixture of iodine and copper. The mouse followed the tincture of the cat's smell. And left an offensive odor in it's place, an odor that could not be wiped away. It lingered at the touch of another foul reminder. One that could not be replaced by the soap of another era.
By Alex Jennett4 years ago in Fiction
Almost a Daughter
“Would you still like me if I wasn’t a girl?” Her voice was so low he wasn’t sure he heard right so rather than answering right off, he just stared at her. She tossed her head to one side, sable hair storming over her shoulders, glanced back at him for a quick second, clear eyes blue and penetrating, then turned away. Not a girl? Jordyn sure looked a girl. His body responded to her whenever she was close to him the same way it did all girls. That involuntary stiffening, the want, that indecent want, a clawing need. And yet, and yet…
By Dan Glover4 years ago in Fiction
A HAPPY STORY ABOUT THE UNIVERSE, AND STUFF.
First there is something, then there is nothing. No wait, that’s reversed. Or is it? So many ways the universe can begin. It can explode into being from nothingalmostnothingImean, or it can be born on the back of a crocodile, the way I think I read once that some cultures believe the universe was born: the crocodile had to carry a frog across a river, I think, and there was a fox too, or maybe a hippo? The details may or may not be unimportant. It is hard to tell, for true stories.
By Briane Pagel4 years ago in Fiction
Electronic monsters from the Deep
The Art of the Fan Scam They're a tricky bunch - one could easily compare them to internet paparazzi. Although I'm learning to enjoy the game, I give it my all and wait in tow for the inevitable money pitch. It comes in many forms, and it unfailingly comes.
By Jan Portugal4 years ago in Fiction
My friend Herbert
May I introduce my friend Herbert. He lives in the space between the first and second floors of our apartment. We didn't realize that he was living in that space when we moved into this apartment 7 years ago. Suddenly, one day three years ago there was a peek hole where the stairs are to the second floor. He must have been very quiet, we haven't heard anything from that space until we saw his eye one day.
By Lassepetter4 years ago in Fiction
The Brother Bakers of Brighton
When the loaves of bread came out of the oven, Phillip would carefully look for the biggest and crispiest of the batch. He would then pick it, wrap with paper and tie it with a golden lace before setting on top of the oven, to keep it warm.
By The Archaeologist4 years ago in Fiction
