Satire
Happy Place
In case you don’t already know, the rules are different when you have enough money. My girlfriend tells people I’m an “Elite Concierge.” It’s a title she made up not knowing exactly what I do, but it does sound about right. You see, having tons of money, fame, or influence changes the way you live. I come from a rich family and learned this at a young age. My friends and I made a ton of mischief when we were young but never got into much trouble. As we grew up, the closer we got to trouble the better I got at getting out of it. Mom and dad’s money helped, at first, but then I’d be in trouble with them. So, I had to get better.
By Tales from a Madman4 years ago in Fiction
Bunch of Posers
It's three fifteen and they're not here yet. They said they'd be here at three. I've been sitting on the step, staring at the front door, picking the lint off my sweater for the past thirty minutes. My feet are stuffed sweatily inside my boots, my hand-me-down skates lean against them.
By Lindsay Rae4 years ago in Fiction
SOUTHERN ICE
Here I sit. A southern girl born in the south. Never having seen a snow storm. Never having experienced freezing temperatures. Never having ice skated. Never having thrown a snowball. Never having fallen on my ass as I walked a slippery sidewalk. Yet I'm having these recurring dreams about an icy frozen pond. I'm not skating, or ice fishing or doing anything at this pond. It 's just a big old frozen pond. Something you'd see before they go to the next scene where Jason is killing you.
By Dorothy Gibbs4 years ago in Fiction
The Pen
Twenty-eight thirteen-year-old bodies stand in silence on a long piece of thin red tape outside the middle school wing. Their jaws are rigid. Sweat begins to form in small beads at the edges of their foreheads. A muffled laugh from a nearby classroom carries their way.
By Will Chesson4 years ago in Fiction
Colourless
Rose Crawford woke once more as the screams of her alarm bellowed into her ears. It was the morning of April 16th and today of all days was essential for her career. She slipped out of bed to begin her day with the ever familiar attitude of a dull, dreary disposition, accompanied by the internal longing that lingered inside the pit of her stomach, day after day. She opened the door and left her house, entering the streets of a black and white world. A colourless society it was, one with no life, no spark, no excitement, and literally no pigment other than the shadows of grey in her opposing extremes. A world with no colour. This was Rose's life.
By Anna Harrison4 years ago in Fiction
Back On The Bull
"The house was perfect!" Kendra thought to herself as she walked up to the front door. She carefully held the damn blue vase for her buyer that had to be shown in every room. Meticulous beautiful garden out front. Three car garage. Wrap around farmers porch, an acre of land, gorgeous views; How was this place still on the market? Listed again for the third time in two years. She just pushed back negative possible reasons in her head. She wanted this deal to go through. She needed this deal to go through.
By C. H. Richard5 years ago in Fiction
A Night at the Bull's Market
This black tie party just reached a biblical level of indulgence. A man with half a haircut pulled a silk sheet from off the lobby's new state, and we all admired the raging bull of gold and its underlying plaque: 'The Lawrence Gilhourey Economics Analytical Center'.
By Jamie Todd5 years ago in Fiction
