Excerpt

Mouse Ears, a Wand, and a Bumblebee
She closed her eyes as sleep took her, her ancestors was listening, taking away the pain, injecting her with love and light. The light drew her in; flashes of memories flooded her mind. but she didn't remember her sadness when her pet fish nemo died. She didn't see the day her friend got married. She didn't remember the birth of her newborn daughter’s faith, nor the blood on her hands when she touched her newborn son brandon. The light portrayed images but not the image of her wedding nor the image of her graduating med school, shaking professor smith’s hand as she thought of all the things she wished she did to that sinful body. It didn't showcase the night she discovered who she was meant to be or her nights in the closet crying, away from others because public crying is a weakness and Evangeline is not WEAK.
By Michelle LJ5 years ago in Fiction
The Trial
Seems like only yesterday that she was here, I never knew how much I would miss her until she was gone. This thing now, this little locket that once upon a time might have seem so little to me is now the only remembrance, I have of her. All that being said I can no longer just sit here and sulk in my own sorrows I must keep moving in order to find safety in this hellish place that was made by man. I never though in a million years that I would be living in an abandon store front in this once beautiful city of Seattle trying to find a way to survive and hatch a plan to rescue the girl who’s neck this locket belongs to. Oh, Justine my love oh how I miss you and long for you only to be plagued by my thoughts of doubt that you are still alive. As I close the locket and put it in my pocket, I remembered that the name of the ones that took her were called the Silencers and that they had a hide out close to my compound in a near by warehouse on the Sound. Oh well got to keep moving, I cannot stop now the sun is going down and everyone knows that bad things come out at night.
By MATHEW S HUDNALL5 years ago in Fiction
BAGGAGE
The sky was an unblemished sheet of grey and wept a heavy spray on the city below. The masses huddled beneath umbrellas and briefcases as they hurried across the street, stomping on their own reflections as they did. David walked alone, unhurried, protected from the weather by a thick Navy issue overcoat and shining cover. Those scurrying by gave him an obligatory nod as he made his way across the street. The metro was still a block away but he was enjoying the day already. His heart was light. Today was the day.
By Dustin Zeier5 years ago in Fiction
The Remnant
The stench of sulfur filled what was left of fresh air as the remaining bodies continued to burn while we hid, choking on our fear of what’s to come for the few of us who are now the Remnant. Golden rays broke through the thin plywood pieces covering the windows of the daylight basement. This place below the ground once held standing-room-only parties where the smells from the grill made you hungry even if you had eaten before you came, and the music took you back to the moment you fell in love, no matter how many times. We laughed during dance-offs and cheered during football season. We made room for family and loved ones here. The summers were good, but the falls were nothing short of amazing. We enjoyed thousands of fall sunsets and autumn moons right under the covered deck just through the French doors that were now barricaded behind broken pieces of plywood, a table, and a few chairs stacked about eight feet high. We had no idea what was left of the outside. We’ve been down here so long, we’ve lost track of time. What happens when the sun decides to stop setting? We have no idea when to sleep without night. The screams have stopped, at least the human ones have. We occasionally hear these archaic wails that sound like the dinosaurs from the classic prehistoric world movies. The only difference is these pterodactyl-like creatures are a thousand times louder.
By KD Bryant5 years ago in Fiction
One Way
He was hot. Heat from the sun bore down on his shoulders heavily like burdens. Sweat dripped down his temples like the sap of an old oak tree. Yet he was still for a moment. The calmness of the scorching afternoon was graced with gentle breezes from a nearby sea. He inhaled the aroma of water and salt, and briefly considered how long it would take him to trek to the beach.
By Kearra Dominique5 years ago in Fiction
The Crash
Lying in the foreign bed of a darkened room, I feel my body finally begin to relax. My eyes scan the interior landscape of unfamiliar silhouettes against pockets of void, tracing around the vague recessions of what I estimate to be one of four corners in the room, and further still to the spidery lattice of dim light that bears the meager luminant offering of some far-off streetlight from down the way. I settle in on the brightest point in the geometry and stare. Sometimes I stay like this for hours. There was hardly much else to do at night anymore, and this neat little game of house-crashing the recently deceased has, in a matter of days, gone from something admittedly fun and novel to something resolutely desperate, and carnal. There is a relative safety during the night- a small comfort that takes convincing. I let my eyes unfocus as I withdraw into the night's speculations, hardly bothered by the muted sobs and whimperings that work their way through the small fabric openings of a towel shoved less-than-expertly under-door, quietly reminding me that I am not alone in this house. Not surprising.
By Tim H5 years ago in Fiction
Upending
Here are all of the ways I am not going to fulfill your ideas of a dystopian heroine. I’m not the girl who doesn’t know she’s beautiful. I’m not the tomboy who grew up with just her dad and knows how to throw a punch and fix a car. I’m not quiet and smart and inherently good. I’m not the poor girl everyone is rooting for to catch a break and conquer the world.
By Danie Nordahl5 years ago in Fiction
Fool's Gold
I don’t remember the first time I was standing in this place, but I remember the second. The sun had set, and we had just eaten dinner as a family in the ornate dining room of the grand, white-stone villa in the leafy borough of Annely that I used to – and, sometimes, accidentally, still – call home. I was late to dinner that night. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the balcony that was in my bedroom. Couldn’t bring myself to leave the sight of the city sprawling before me, with its endless valley of white-bricked houses and buildings, its year-round lush green grass and palm trees, the lavender-scented balmy evening breeze, and its cloudless blue sky, shattered by the molten gold of the setting sun and hues of pink. It was heaven, a moment so perfect and serene that it seems only logical that the moments to follow it would be so exceedingly hellish, if only to even the scorecard.
By Seannine Henderson5 years ago in Fiction
Teddies and Pets
He left me at the altar, sirens blaring. He ran. The police guard beside me picked me up and carried me to the cellar. The church exploded in white hot noise.
By Melissa Eaves5 years ago in Fiction
Rich and Poor
The new virus negates everything we learned from Covid. Instead of isolation and endless sanitizing, we must cohabit with family or, in the absence of that, with strangers. The danger of the Proximus virus lies in the increased desertification of the skin fauna. Funeral directors notice it first. The bodies don't decompose as fast as usual.
By Christian Klump5 years ago in Fiction
Where There's a Will, There's a Way
As she kneeled on the ground, hands up, gun pointed at her head, Rebecca clasped the heart-shaped locket that was around her neck. Suddenly, memories started flooding her brain. She remembered when he gave it to her for her 21st birthday. Inside the locket was a picture of him on one side and her on the other, both in their bathing suits. It was in memory of their first vacation together in Cabo. Then she looked down at her hand and saw the tan line where her wedding ring should be. Even though he had been gone six years, she still wore it. She had taken it off that morning to wash her hands and forgot to put it back on in the scramble to gather the kids and any supplies they might need as the emergency alarm blared deafeningly. These items were the last two physical pieces of her husband that she had and now there was only the one. And this crazy, terrified man was yelling that she should give him her treasure in exchange for her life.
By Briana Krueger5 years ago in Fiction
The Shortening
My mother told me stories when I was a child about how many women, long ago, lived in fear of men in some form or another. She told me how men were violent, greedy, and sexist to their female counterparts. She threw around the word “rape” and “harassment” often. It seemed as though she didn’t have a single positive thing to say about them. These are the stories told to us in our history. And yet, men are so precious to us now. They serve a vital role in our communities. Without them we cannot survive. This is what they teach us in school. The teachers tell us that men are necessary to sustain life on Earth and that they have a unique gift that women need in order to bare children. This is why they live at the special centers all across the country. Academies built and run by some of our most powerful and strongest female leaders. It is for their protection. It is for the value they bring to our community. It is for their essence. It is for the greater good. These are all lies.
By Lauryn Gullberg5 years ago in Fiction