Fable
The Price I Pay
Dear Stranger, At times I wonder if I am lucky to be here and not out there. At times I wonder if the confinements of this cage is all I will ever see and I imagine what it may be like outside. To not feel the coldness of these bars and the suffocation of not being able to soar high into the sky and be free. I was born from an egg, although I’ve never met my parents. I was raised being hand fed from these strange beings that seem to always want to look at me.
By Victoria Gurnee4 years ago in Fiction
The Magic of love
Evira sat crossed-legged on the porch, squinting through the rays of sun beaming down on her. Her hands were curled around a glass filled to the brim with cold water, ice clanging against the sides. She titled her head back to feel the sun better, breathing deeply through her nose.
By Alexandra Maldonado4 years ago in Fiction
Casino
Paul walked into the casino and he knew he shouldn't have, not now, not in this time of his life. It would be bad news for him and his relatives. And they would have something to say about it. Rest his soul. It gave him a headache just thinking about what would spew out of their mouths. He didn't know if it would be good or bad. With his family it would probably be bad. They always had something nice to say. Especially behind his back. Which wasn't very nice.
By Alex Jennett4 years ago in Fiction
Discussions With Arthur
I remember my discussions with Arthur started on a Thursday. I remember that he would always smile as I approached, the sun setting behind him, his fingers blackened with wet soil. I remember the soft smell of turned earth mixed with warm heat. It can’t always have been warm but that is what I remember. I remember the lilt of his voice, the timbre of his chuckle, and the staccato of his dismissals.
By Diana McLaren4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Macaw
Most are familiar with the American Dream. It is the ultimate goal for many to achieve. What is the American Dream really? The answer differs depending on who you ask, but the idea of it is all the same: freedom from/of something. Lorenzo had his own version of the American Dream and he yearned for it more than ever. He loved his native land of Belize, but his home was changing and it was hardly loving him back. At the age of 28, Lorenzo had experienced immense loss and it all started six months ago. Change had begun before then, but it did not directly affect Lorenzo and his family up until then. Now that months have passed since his great loss, he was ready to move on. That is what Angeli would have wanted; that is what they would have done if she was still around.
By Christina DeFeo4 years ago in Fiction
An Absence of Colour
Jayden moved his pencil back and forth across the face of his colouring book as he lay belly-down on the living room floor. His face was a depiction of pure concentration. Not even the loud car horns which emanated from the busy traffic on the streets below the apartment could stir him from his trance. Laya watched curiously from her position on the old vintage couch, her laptop had sent itself to sleep due to lack of use, and the barely started essay for her psychology course had been long-since forgotten.
By J. R. Lowe4 years ago in Fiction
