Love
My Life Before...
I remember about 15 years ago, i was 16 and my first love was in high school and hated my parents for keeping us apart.. His name was R.J, short for Ronald Jr.. he was tall, dark, and handsome, and all the girls wanted him.. And he wanted me.. We fell in love and had plans to marry after high school, have a small family and live happily after all..
By Angela Severin5 years ago in Fiction
Hashtag Dad Jokes
Pitch dark. Black. Empty. Aware only of his existence, Finian floated. Suspended in whatever this was or is or might be, he tried to speak, to yell even. Nothing. His attempts to do anything at all: yell, flail, see, hear - anything that might prove he was something more than this “nothingness” pervading his entire being - proved fruitless, save for a list of failures and falsified theories. It was as if he had ascended to a higher plane of existence, but was the only one who had discovered the process. He could think, but nothing else. So, he did the only thing that was allowed. He let his mind wander through its corridors, back alley ways, into rooms it did not even know it had and then, finally, it made the long trip back to the foyer. Finishing, Finian felt confident - perhaps for the first time since he had awakened - that this was going to be a very long eternity.
By Michael Neuman5 years ago in Fiction
Tani's Torture
Tani sat in her small room listening to music, one of the few joys in her life. The front door slammed shut, her mom must have forgotten her wallet; she had only left for the store 15 minutes ago. The thought was gone as soon as it came, because her mom did not throw whatever was in her path. Her stepdad home already and drunk of course.
By Viltinga Rasytoja5 years ago in Fiction
Hand of Love
The stale, cool light of dusk fell on his hopeful face as The Twin tore the window's tattered curtain away. The world outside was different again today, but not too different. The same broken windows adorned the city walls. The same abandoned cars populated the same scorched streets. The same silent sky bore the same forgiving light of a timeless Sun stuck in endless evening. The same unmoving stone statues of those who listened to Her stood strong, always with their hands hiding their faces. The charred corpses of those who turned Her away all wore the same pristine, twisted, maniacal expression. Dead colors. Always the same, everywhere. Except for one thing. A fresh breath charged into his lungs and filled his heart with new fire when he saw it. Today there was a sliver of green! A new path!
By Amelia Leonhart5 years ago in Fiction
Crossing Paths
Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom, there lived a princess. She was an average-looking princess with pale green eyes and long brown hair. Nothing special. Special were her two younger sisters Amelia and Penelope. They both had striking red hair and bright blue eyes. So it was a shame to the eldest princess Ophelia that she was to be married. For she was not as beautiful as her younger siblings and besides, she had other things she longed to do.
By Kaytlynn Rose5 years ago in Fiction
Tears Bring Life
TEARS GIVE LIFE Crystal shivered and pulled at the ragged edge of her worn quilt. The ground was just as hard and unforgiving as usual but the air that morning crept in with an unusually uncomfortable chill. The morning breeze had the distinct scent of the promise of rain. Crystal could hear the clanking of the others in the camp hurriedly putting out whatever belongings they had left that were capable of catching some rain water. She groaned quietly under her breath. Her bones hurt. She was only thirty years old but sleeping on the ground for the last few years had taken its toll. She did not relish the thought of moving from the little indention in the earth she had wiggled her way into during the night. She was finally comfortable. Well, as comfortable as she could be in a refugee camp in the middle of nowhere. Crystal and her mother were actually among the fortunate few the other refugees had voted to allow to live in a small cave the group had discovered. She shifted a bit and tugged at her quilt, then decided she’d better get up and put out their few cups and pots or she and her mother would run out of water again. Crystal stretched out her hand to rouse her mother and let her know she was going to set out the dishes. Touching her softly, Crystal whispered, “Momma, it smells like rain. I’m going to set out the cups.” Her mother did not respond… not even with the typical annoyed grunt. Crystal shook her mother’s shoulder gently, “Momma.” Her mother still did not respond. She did not move. “Momma!” Crystal shouted, seizing her mother by the shoulders. She was cold. She was gone. Crystal pulled her mother’s lifeless body toward her and nuzzled her face in the thinning silver hair of her mother’s head. Crystal rocked back and forth clutching her mother close to her and cried for a moment. Looking down she noticed her mother’s hand in its predictably clenched fist. Gently prying her mother’s fingers open she saw for the first time in a very long time her mother’s prize possession. Clutched in her unrelenting little fist it had remained for at least ten years. No one was allowed to touch it, no one was allowed to even see it for fear it might be taken from her or lost. So, there it finally was laying defenseless… without its unremitting protector. The heart-shaped locket.
By Sarah White5 years ago in Fiction
