Short Story
Be On Notice
It’s a too tired cliche that the world won’t end with a bang, but a whimper. No one really even noticed how few babies were being born. Oh sure, there were headlines about it but no one ever paid attention to those unless it was about politics or someone getting hurt. Or sometimes, in rare cases, when a celebrity tweeted about it.
By Jay Marentay5 years ago in Fiction
Last Breath
Silent and still, the ocean before them lays. It looks long dead if it wasn’t for the small struggling waves lapping at their feet. Each wave burdened with salt and sand reaching desperately for the shore and heavily retreating, out of breath and dying.
By Francesca Von Schreibern5 years ago in Fiction
Freedoms Alley
They have made soldiers a out of us. The weary, the peacekeepers, the writers, artists, and thieves. Plates of molten injustice run in rivets down my back.The metal symmetrys and soft muted colors have blurred into one and replaced the fine adjustable lines of variance and democracy. My name is Jonothan.
By Melissa Eaves5 years ago in Fiction
The Dragonflies on Goosebay
Skye walked along the waterfront near the boats. She knew she had the locket before she set the traps that morning... she must have dropped it when she pulled the boat to shore. The locket was a gift from her Dad to her Mom before she was born. Her Mom gave it to her when she was only 6 years old. Her Mom was going to go look for her Dad. Neither came back. Her Mom had made her promise to be good and always obey her Uncle Brandon. They had all come to Goosebay before she was born.
By Cindy Piper5 years ago in Fiction
Owl
Being a white kid on the reservation had some advantages. Especially if you were little when no color mattered. All your friends had at least six grandmas, most of who were actually great aunties, of course what each of them had, was a big heart, and a quick tongue. I would spend a night or two every summer, (when my folks would go out for Friday and Saturday’s), at this or that hot July pow wow, sitting with my friend and his cousin, eating fry bread and drinking Cool-Ade, listening to the drums and the bells on the dancer’s costumes on the tail gate of his uncles old seventy chevy pickup. For bedtime we would toss every extra blanket we could find in the back of that pickup, kick off our cowboy boots, lay back in our socks and stare up at the blinking stars, our denim coats as pillows. Grandma Sally would go from truck to truck, car to car, to check on all the little ones. She wasn’t any one’s grandma, she was every one’s grandma. She seemed especially fond of our little gang, she would jump up swing her little body around and plunk down on the tail gate, then shimmy in, lean against a wheel well pull a blanket up, she would point up and tell us this story.
By Owen Taylor5 years ago in Fiction
The Quest
The year was 2257. It has been over 150 years now since the Great Asteroid storm that decimated the earth for more than five years. Scientist's and astronomers could not figure out where it came from and why it lasted for so long, but when it finally ended, over half the earth's population had been killed either from the asteroids or from the nuclear fallout from the destroyed power plants around the world.
By K.C. Keats5 years ago in Fiction
