Short Story
Give Me Love or Give Me Death
Give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death! The boys of their small city shouted it. Not to one another, or in a unanimous chorus, but in their own minds. In the narrow, sneaking margins of their gloomy days, whatever tasks filled them now. It was true, they were all still boys. Not in the way that some people call young men just boys—these were actual boys, some no older than fourteen. Some had known a life of only this, while some had seen the world before it had gone to such hell, so many years ago now.
By Jamie Kahn5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
The Locket By Debra Schleitwiler Without the usual traffic, the river ran clear. Amy watched from the bridge as the fish, now teeming, swam and played, their movements mimicking the ebb and flow of the current. She turned and continued walking down the freeway, empty now, the cars gone except for the occasional vehicle left abandoned in the rush to safety. As she walked, Amy checked out these forgotten cabs and trucks, looking to see if the owner was careless enough to leave the keys and fuel in the tank. Having had no luck, she continued her hike west.
By Debra L Schleitwiler5 years ago in Fiction
Ashen Dystopia
It was all she had left. The one solitary reminder that life had not always been this way. Something solid to hold on to. She knew had this one piece of herself not survived, she could easily question her entire previous existence. After all, no one talked about it anymore. The ashen and dark world before her had swallowed the memory of any previous way of life. It was that sadness and depression that swallowed more survivors than the explosion itself. She held tight though; she knew that is what they would have wanted. She could not give up, not yet. So, with vigor and strength, she rose from the ashes surrounding her makeshift camp and clasped the delicate chain securely around her neck. The heart shaped locket bounced softly against her chest with each determined step. Like a small heartbeat, it gave her the hope to move on. If this small symbol of her mother could survive maybe her brother was still alive too.
By Paige Baker5 years ago in Fiction
Something Familiar
The wind whispered through the dark, empty trees like a warning in a foreign language. Winter was coming, and with winter comes the monsters; those horrible, retched beasts that threaten my home. Every year on the Winter Solstice they fight to get inside. They want to dismantle everything they see. No one knows why they do it, that's just how they were bred.
By Missy Roberts5 years ago in Fiction
Monotony
“The downfall of mankind will be itself.” The words of the President’s last transmission, only hours before the United States government fell. The longest lasting unified front in the world. Holding its own against the Liberation for twenty seven years. For the first time making the world one people.
By Sarah Gaspar5 years ago in Fiction
Ebovid World
The sky was its usual overcast dull gray with the smallest hint of blue around the edges. Sure someplace out there beyond the walls of what people called civilization there could possibly be a blue sky and an open field. Who knows? I sure didn’t. I was born in this horrid place that we called home. It once was the United States. Now it was a bunch of individual sovereigns, each with its’ own egomaniac that controlled it.
By Carrie Green5 years ago in Fiction
What A Mother Does
Erica always felt inadequate, but never more so than when she became a mother. Her mother, Eleanor (Nora to her friends), had always been the definition of perfection, and by that scale, she never knew how she would measure up. From her mother's perfect hair, makeup and flawless style, to her compassion and patience, there wasn't anything you could count against her. And she didn't have it easy by any means.
By Krystle Lynn Rederer5 years ago in Fiction
In The Dark Together
This is my recollection of that day when I was ten. It was about three months after the volcanoes in the Ring of Fire erupted almost simultaneously. Then, unexplainably, new volcanoes grew and erupted in a matter of weeks, sometimes days. I called them pimple volcanoes. The worst part was that they kept growing farther and farther inland from the Ring of Fire.
By Heidi Mitchell5 years ago in Fiction
