Series
The Train I Almost Missed. AI-Generated.
The 7:45 train was late again — just like it always was on Mondays. The platform was crowded with tired faces and the smell of burnt coffee. Everyone looked impatient, as if being late was the greatest tragedy of their day.
By shakir hamid4 months ago in Fiction
FruFru and Pootzygirl
Frufru was born in Yonkers, New York. Pootzygirl was born in Thonotosassa, Florida. Frufru was raised by European immigrants who were naturalized Americans. Pootzygirl was orphaned at a young age and grew up with guidance counselors and guardians. Frufru went to Fashion and Design school and was the Personal Apprentice of Cruella Deville. Pootzygirl took classes at many different schools learning from many teachers and considered herself a philanthropist and an entrepreneur. Frufru wears the most expensive name-brand garments, drives the most expensive cars, always has her hair, make-up, fingernails, and outfit, worn to perfection. Pootzygirl forgets she has hair, loves a good cape, and is happy when she has a comfortable pair of shoes that make her feet happy. Frufru likes gourmet restaurants and shopping at elite specialized boutiques. Pootzygirl likes art and beauty, and feels satisfied when she can accomplish fulfilling a need without complications or heartache. Frufru is scared of animals that are not pets like cats or dogs. Pootzygirl loves all animals and prefers being outdoors if the weather allows. Frufru thinks everything said or written is just nonsense. Pootzygirl thinks everything said or written is absolute truth. (In the comic book depictions of these two characters, Frufru is depicted as the "Villain" and Pootzygirl is depicted as the "Hero".) The writer does not think of them that way. The creator of these two characters is a "Bipolar" woman, who struggles with her own "Frufru" self, and her own "Pootzygirl" self, every day.
By Shanon Angermeyer Norman4 months ago in Fiction
The hotel laundry has been running itself after midnight
I work laundry for a mid-range chain hotel — the kind with fake marble floors, “continental breakfast,” and carpets that smell faintly like wet dog no matter how often they’re shampooed. My shift’s usually 4 p.m. to 1 a.m., but I’m often the last one here. Nobody wants to be the person closing down the laundry room at night.
By V-Ink Stories4 months ago in Fiction
[UPDATE] I was the only one working the night shift… so who checked in Room 409?
Hey everyone, I didn’t expect my last post to blow up the way it did. I just needed to vent about something weird that happened at work, but apparently, it freaked a lot of people out.
By V-Ink Stories4 months ago in Fiction
I was the only one working the night shift… so who checked in Room 409?
I’ve been working night shifts at a small roadside hotel for about two years now. It’s one of those places off the interstate that looks like it’s been “under renovation” since the ‘90s — faded carpets, buzzing neon vacancy sign, vending machines that still take quarters. It’s quiet most nights, which is exactly how I like it.
By V-Ink Stories4 months ago in Fiction
The Sound of Rain. AI-Generated.
It had been raining for three days straight in Lusaka, and the sound had become a kind of background music to Naomi’s thoughts. She sat by the window of her late father’s house, watching water run down the glass, tracing the same paths over and over again — like memories replaying themselves.
By shakir hamid4 months ago in Fiction
His Freckle Too, Stayed Until Morning
I did not notice it before. That small freckle just beneath his left eye, the one the light always seems to find before I do. How many times have I seen his face and never really seen it? The mark itself is nothing special, really, a speck, a shadow of pigment the sun decided to keep for itself, yet tonight it feels like a secret I have finally been allowed to see.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast4 months ago in Fiction
