Short Story
Opituary
Two hundred and thirteen tries. I now stand at the edge of the pit, elated to have escaped after being trapped for so long. The pit itself looks to be about twenty feet deep with stone walls. The winter air is cold, but it feels good after the brutal climb. I look towards the woods. I can go. Leave this place forever. Forget about it and move on, but I can’t. She’s still down there.
By Kyle J Grossman5 years ago in Fiction
Radio Silence
The sun looked down over the scorched land. The golden eye of the beholder was on its final hour and prepared to give its watch over to the moon, who refused the patrol and let anarchy chaperon the night. The earth trembled with the vibration of feet put to dirt. A flurry of ill intent rising like a sand storm set to engulf those in its path. The time for finding safety was running short. Homes scorched, turning civilized people back to primal instinct. Those still clinging to the idea the world could spin backward were on the brink of extinction.
By Standish Kinko5 years ago in Fiction
Burn it, Burn it all
Necessity is the mother of invention, or in this case the mother of ingenuity. I found a small bag of potting soil, and an old broken box spring. Added some leaves, plywood and boom a raised bed. Planted some honeydew melon seeds and couldn't wait for them to produce.
By Qa'id Ali Harris5 years ago in Fiction
Only hope
All the trees were a blur of brown and green streams as they swept past us. My hands were darting out in front of me instinctively swatting away branches before they could make contact with my face. We were running for our lives through a forest we had never been to before. We had been trapped for so long after the world had gone to shit and most of the human race was dead. Trapped by people calling themselves The New Government. They where made up of soldiers and scientist conducting horrible experiments on any human left they could get their hands on. In order to “creat a new worl” The results of thier experiments, well lets say even hell would turn away these mutated abominations. The only way to not become another one of there sick creations was to escape at any cost.
By Deirdre Kaus 5 years ago in Fiction
The Body of Mr. Hainsworth
The car door swung open, slapping Lethe with the acrid stench of diesel and manure. Choking back the bile building in her throat, she lifted her head high and stepped out of the backseat, immediately sinking her heel into a half-inch of mud. Or at least she hoped it was mud.
By Meghan Watt5 years ago in Fiction
The Blackbird Story
When I was a little girl, my mother and I lived with my grandparents in a small farming community in the heart of the Mississippi Delta. My grandfather drove a truck for Scott Petroleum, and my mother worked at the local blue jean factory. But my grandmother was a retired bookkeeper who sold Avon and looked after me during the day until my mom got home. In the afternoons, my grandmother’s sisters would visit for coffee and dessert. They would sit around the kitchen table sharing the town’s gossip or complaining about the low turnout at Sunday’s potluck dinner. Sometimes they would gather in the den to shell peas and reminisce about their childhood days growing up on the family’s farm. These were the stories I endured over and over until their words got embedded in my mind so sincerely that on any given opportunity, I could have told them myself as if they were my own. They seemed to leave a stain on my tiny spirit much like the stain from the purple hulls of the peas in my bucket.
By Heather Holland5 years ago in Fiction
Broken Heart
They told me he died of a broken heart. It was something I didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand, actually, according to them. I was a Bot, after all, and Bots didn’t have hearts, so naturally, that was one thing about us that just couldn’t break. A limb, a sensory hub, a logic box, sure. But not a heart. I could look human, they said, and act human and even smell human (though I’ve frequently since wondered what being human could smell like), but I was never going to be human, because I didn’t have a fragile, delicate, apparently deadly-to-break heart.
By Rebekah Sherman5 years ago in Fiction
Living Gold
Ever heard of Living Gold?, referred to Mankind as Gods Gold. Kept in the Chamber of Time and Space as the last nugget of gods after they've made all the jewelry and silverware needed in paradise. Living Gold was the source of blessings and events leading to the lives on earth, And the destruction of earth, which lead to a deadly curse that caused madness, killing and nearly wiping the human race to extinction. From the beginning, the Living Gold that the gods wore and ate with used to control peace on earth. Until the fate of a tragic effect.
By Darrius Harris5 years ago in Fiction
