Excerpt

A WIZ
With light music, easy listening with a touch of blues melody in the background, Dorothy mouthed words relaying her own blue funk. To the tune of 5th Dimension's song... "One Less Man", Dorothy crooned...
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Fiction
A Change of Plans
~Rhe’ess~ The mid December sun shone coldly on the city. People bustled through the streets. Christmas lights sparkled below. Rhe’ess took a moment, taking it all in. It would be the last time he got to experience it.
By Simon Grace4 years ago in Fiction
Negotiations with the Dead - Part One
Negotiating with the Dead - Part One Dear Margaret Atwood, I have begun reading your book Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing. I am far too shy to write to you or trouble you with the wonderings of my mind. I doubt you reading this would add anything to your day, but as I read I find that I very much want to reply to you like we were having tea and having a conversation. You say to me the words that you have written in the book and I reply in a way that is so quiet, you can't hear me and I can't interrupt you. I doubt my reflection on your thoughts would add anything to your great vault of knowledge and experience, but I'd like to dissect them more carefully.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
Classic Short Story
In the general laughter, he did not share, or only a very little. He was thinking about the Arctic and Antarctic regions, which of course, on the globe, were white. Miss Buell was now telling them about the tropics, the jungles, the steamy heat of equatorial swamps, where the birds and butterflies, and even the snakes, were like living jewels. As he listened to these things, he was already, with a pleasant sense of half-effort, putting his secret between himself and the words. Was it really an effort at all? For effort implied something voluntary, and perhaps even something one did not especially want; whereas this was distinctly pleasant, and came almost of its own accord. All he needed to do was to think of that morning, the first one, and then of all the others—
By Sram4 years ago in Fiction
Shy
CHAPTER 1 Journal entry 1: I don’t know his name. I’ve never heard it spoken out loud, unless I did hear and didn’t associate it with his face – his mannerisms. But, I call him Shy.
By RedWritor4 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Star
Tom, flashing his torchlight with deep thoughts about his penultimate battery porch, felt the bizarre wind on him while walking along the cold desert. He looked around and paused for a moment whether to march forward or set up a camp for the night.
By Govardhan Pinni4 years ago in Fiction
A Night Owl's Writer's Block
I spun around in my office chair, head tilted back, willing an idea to pop into my brain. After a half dozen rotations, I was plenty dizzy but had no new ideas. I dragged my feet on the floor, and my chair squeaked to a stop in front of my computer screen.
By Jessie Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
An excerpt from "Off the Edge" (my original story)
The house was dead silent. The creaking of the stairs as I carefully tiptoed down them seemed to shake the house, echoing throughout the quiet darkness. I could almost see the sound, bouncing off the decades-old appliances in the kitchen and the outdated furniture, more fragile than their elderly owner.
By Jay D.4 years ago in Fiction
The Return of the Defenders
It was getting late. Though the sky displayed a myriad of colour, with the growing shadows came a sense of foreboding. A nervous hush fell upon the forest, the only movement coming from the wind blowing through the leaves, and the day-dwellers scurrying for sanctuary. It had been this way for as long as Gaeryll could remember.
By J.C. Winter4 years ago in Fiction
The Triple Bar
After riding one day, Jim tossed me a piece of baling twine and told me to use it to lead Freckles through the gate. Jim was always telling me that I was a wimp and so I didn't protest, I was afraid, but told myself it would be fine, you’re just nervous. I didn’t realize I was saying this to myself, it was a mantra I had been using for so long originating from my determination to be different than my mother. I followed Jim’s instructions. Freckles crowded me into Jack and the thin twine slipped out, as I maneuvered between the two geldings. In the momentary confusion, Katie, our mare, bolted free through the open gate. Jim called out to me "Get her". Freckles safely in the pen I strode after Katie. She hoisted her hind legs in the air and kicked toward my hip, I turned as her feet neared, so all she got was my wrist. I backed up cradling it, not sure of what had happened to my small delicate hand, making sure I was out of her way, and wouldn’t be harmed further, I sank down, stunned, searing pain focused me, as I sat on the cold spring soil. I didn't go to the emergency room, Jim didn't think I needed to. I waited 10 days, it was swollen, but not terribly black and blue. It was my right hand, I earn money drafting using auto-cad. I’m a professional ice skater. Finally I decided I needed to make sure it healed properly so I went to a Doctor. There was a small break, but nothing to be done about it, just wear a brace and keep it immobilized.
By Gaby4 years ago in Fiction
EXCERPT FROM- Shane,Stabb, The Big Man, The Driver and The Wind
Shane, Stabb, The Big Man, The Driver and The Wind. Chapter 19–Strix Farm By: Preston Leigh
By Preston Leigh4 years ago in Fiction
The White Ripper
1. Bruce Gomer plopped his fat and hairy body onto a threadbare swivel chair in his decrepit trailer in the woods of Stuttgart, Arkansas, forty-five miles southeast of Little Rock. Wearing nothing but a dirty wife-beater T-shirt and torn socks, he played with his cock then turned on his PC and went to the Facebook page, Don’t Tread On US!
By Keith Seewald4 years ago in Fiction