Mystery
What Is Hers
It had become hard to hold her hand, the colder her skin became. My mother, the very woman that breathed life into me, was coming face to face with death. The hard, wooden floor creaked beneath her weight as she writhed and flailed, her body hopeless in it’s final efforts to free itself from the pain. Her movements were jerky and unpredictable. Her legs twisted and her back arched. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth each time her lips parted to give way to a harrowing gurgle. My attempts at comfort were futile, but still, I brushed my free hand across her forehead, gently shushing, not unlike one would hush a crying baby.
By Madelyn Boughter5 years ago in Fiction
Forbidden Treasure
“I swear this is the last time I'll ever do this!” This is something I always tell myself, but I already know that is a lie. I really need the money and jobs are becoming less available as time goes by, with businesses slowly building up, hunters are starting to work for other people to earn their money as opposed to how they used to. Where is the sense of adventure?! In the distance I see the city I call home, that is the only place in this world I would even consider safe, regardless of all the thieves or scammers running amok in the streets for goods to steal and sell themselves. I walked through the shop center with the sack on my shoulder, ignoring the sound of people speaking to the merchants selling expensive supplies that they could find simply from the horizon in a mile radius.
By Kia Oquinn5 years ago in Fiction
The Mystery That is Lauren
As Chris is lost in memory of his last day with Lauren, he remembers the details of that day such as his feelings of joy, riding in the car and the feeling of the sun on his face and the smell of Laurens car. As he lays on his bed playing with the old, gold necklace with a spinning heart pendant that Lauren gave him for his birthday. He gets a whiff of Laurens hair. Suddenly he is in a unfamiliar place that he does not recognize. As he looks around, he notices a sweatshirt Lauren always wears laying on the ground.
By Tyler M McGuire5 years ago in Fiction
Dystopian Heart
Shots rang through the air, causing Avery to shoot up from his bed and interrupting his much-needed sleep. He walked over to the wall, peering out from a hole caused by the decaying drywall and wood. He noted that the shots seemed to be coming from a few blocks over. This event was unfortunately nothing new to him. After realizing he wasn’t going to be getting any more shuteye for the day, he started to get ready for the day to come.
By David Kohnke5 years ago in Fiction
Dead Ringers, Chapter 1
I sat at my desk, pecking away at the keyboard, intent on finishing the slightly overdue report. Elliot was supposed to help me with it, but he had slipped away after the meeting. I wasn't the least bit shocked. It was typical Elliot behavior. If I had asked for his help though he would have stayed.
By Katarzyna Crevan5 years ago in Fiction
Word Challenge #1
It's awkward to lift your chin off your chest and discover you're the only person in the bar besides the tapper and the piano man. One blankly wiping down glassware, the other absentmindedly smoking a cigarette in the half light of the room, staring into a distant nothing. This is the state of things in the days leading up to Carnival when every juke joint and eatery is gearing up for the mob of tourists. But now it's still possible to stumble in to a dimly lit place at two in the afternoon and find a little solitude. Solitude was what I was after, after all, given how things had been going in my day-to-day. I’d never been in this bar before, but from the outside it looked inviting, like a place I should go, a place that would welcome me or at least provide what I needed. What I needed was a drink and some peace and quiet to do some thinking.
By Clint Jones5 years ago in Fiction
Water haunting
1. Start with a greeting My heart. 2. Tell her the reason for the letter How are you? I miss you and your letters. They burn the night the Regime came. I am searching for water for your bones. The Regime had given word. I do not trust them. I left before the Regime could change its mind.
By Jen N. Wong5 years ago in Fiction
The Chocolate Underpants Caper
THE CHOCOLATE UNDERPANTS CAPER Mary Harris I’m an officer. A grievance officer. Dana Gore, assigned to Local 221, American Authors Union. All the doo-doo that agents, editors, and publishers dish out to writers ends up on my shoes. Usually, doo-doo happens because writers can be idiots. They don’t ask for contracts. They don’t read contracts if they get them. They sign contracts without any forethought or advice. Then the doo-doo hits the fan and they run screaming to me.
By Mary Harris5 years ago in Fiction
