Your First Writing Practice

by Joe Bunting | 776 comments

Anyone can write for fifteen minutes a day. But imagine how fifteen minutes of creative writing each day could change your life. Fifteen minutes of writing practice a day, and I can turn you from an aspiring writer to a daily writer.

How does The Write Practice work?

Your First Writing Practice

1. Start by finding something to write with.

Your computer works great. Or grab a spare sheet of paper and a pen. If you have a journal, use that.

2. Then set a timer for your writing practice.

Use the timer on your phone or this digital timer.

Timing your writing practice is a core element of deliberate practice. Here's why timing your practice will help you:

  • Stay focused. For fifteen minutes, focus on your writing and nothing else. Afterward, you can take a break, but for now, just write!
  • Urgency. You only have fifteen minutes. See how much you can write in such a short time!
  • Easily achievable. Fifteen minutes is not very long, but it could make a huge difference in your writing. Who knows? After writing for fifteen minutes, you might want to keep going.

3. Start writing.

For this exercise, you can write about whatever you want, whether a story or a journal entry or whatever comes to your mind.

If you don't know what to write about, here's a story idea:

 A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods. What does they do?

Take your idea, and write for fifteen minutes. Happy writing!

4. Share your writing practice for feedback.

To become a better writer, you need feedback. Don't hide your practice away. Share it, get feedback from other encouraging writers, and start to grow.

In the writing box below, post your writing practice.

Don't be afraid. We're all in this together. Let us help you become a better writer.

5. Give feedback to other writers.

Now that you've posted your writing, read a few practices by your fellow writers and give them feedback. Remember to be encouraging and specific, using the Oreo method (positive-constructive-positive).

  1. Start by telling them what they did well in their practice.
  2. Then, share a few ways they can improve.
  3. Last, repeat something they did well.

Giving feedback will also make you a better writer faster, helping you see what works and what doesn't in other people's writing.

Ready to Become a Better Writer?

Fifteen minutes a day. That's the beginning of what it takes to become a better writer. Start today.

Follow the steps above to begin your writing practice. When you're finished, sign up to get our daily writing practice right in your email. When you sign up, you'll get a free copy of our eBook 14 Prompts.

Have fun, and happy writing!

PRACTICE

Let's get started with your first practice. First, set a timer for fifteen minutes (or use this one) and start writing. Today, you can write about whatever you want!

When you're finished, post your outline in the Pro Practice Workshop here (and if you're not a member yet, you can join here).

And after you post, be sure to give feedback to at least three other writers.

Welcome to The Write Practice!

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris, a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

776 Comments

  1. Arabhis: Butterfleye Legacy

    I started writing a short story, thanks to this post, but now my ideas have blossomed into an entire book! Thanks!

    Reply
    • Joe Bunting

      Wow! How exciting! Good luck with your book project!

    • Arabhis: Butterfleye Legacy

      Thanks!

  2. Shema Ama

    So it took me much more than 15 minutes because I’m not a native english speaker, here it goes! (first time sharing my writing with anyone btw)

    Fist practice; The Sleeping Man.
    Young Jerry wanders the magical woods, he loses his balance once or twice, but he gets up. He always gets up.
    In a clearing in the midst of the magical woods, covered in red autumn leaves, young Jerry sees an old man. Young Jerry approaches the pile of leaves, the old man’s eyes are closed shut. “He is sleeping.” Young Jerry thought. “But why would anyone sleep in such a place?”
    With a smile on his face, young Jerry outstretches his hand to touch the old man’s wrinkly face, to wake him up. So he could enjoy the magical woods, but the old man’s face is as cold as ice.
    “These leaves aren’t enough” is the first thought that crosses young Jerry’s young mind. With wobbly legs and untrained hands, young Jerry starts to gather the leaves scattered around the old man and dumps them on his his face, his chest, his legs and any uncovered freezing part of him.
    “Oh thank goodness.” Young Jerry looks behind him to find his mom almost in tears “Daddy and I were worried sick.” she walks to him, picks him up and starts walking away.
    Young Jerry looks over her shoulder, the old man is entirely covered in leaves. He hasn’t woken up, but he is warm now at least.

    Reply
    • M.FlynnFollen

      Interesting. A youngster who hasn’t yet learned what death is covers a body with leaves. I wonder if it has happened in real life?

      I like your idea. Although you could use some practice with tenses and translation ( I know its hard ). example: “So he COULD enjoy the magical woods” should be “So he CAN enjoy the magical forest” and “Magical WOODS” Should be “Magical FOREST”

      Anyway, I am not a teacher but that is two cents.

  3. Raegan Phillips

    I’ve wasted so much being her. Now, here I am–new. I’ve got sparkling clean rivers of time rolling out before me, and I can’t think of what to do with them. I’m past my prime, but I’m just beginning. Everything I was is gone, and I am a child, born again, seeing for the first time with eyes out of focus. Busy blurs stream by in unknown shades and hues. Before, life was black and white. No warmth. No heartbeat. Now, I’m alive, and the heat of my existence is pounding in my throat. My senses are overloaded, but all I want is more. I feel like a lost dog that’s been allowed into a stranger’s house to eat. Every morsel I find is a delicacy. Each bite pulls me deeper in for more.

    Reply
    • M.FlynnFollen

      Stay awake and keep on eating!

  4. Karin Flickstein

    She was almost there. The day had started not warm, but definitely not this chilly either. She understood why her grandma had a cold. She could feel the cool winds brushing at her back, under her soft red cape. Holding tightly to her basket, she ran along the path. Such a tiresome journey for such a young thing.

    “Grandma, I’m here!”

    No answer. Maybe she didn’t hear me, she thought.

    Louder pounding this time. “Grandma, open the door! It’s cold out here.”

    The heavy pounding released the latch and the door swung open. “Grandma, where are you?!” she demanded. Setting down the wicker basket, she noticed the room.

    Clothes hung restlessly over furniture and sprawled across the floor. Shards of broken dishes crumbled beneath her tiny feet. Fear began to creep up her neck – a cold shiver, a shaky hand, a darting glance into every corner.

    She slowly began to back toward the open door. Searching for movement. Straining to hear a familiar sound. It was then that she saw it. From the corner. Gray and shaggy, like an old dog that had been out in the rain. But larger – much larger.

    She turned and ran back down the path that had brought her here. As she passed the small shed where her grandma kept her gardening tools, she tripped. Looking down, she saw what she had been looking for.

    “Grandma!” she screamed. Her shrill scream caused the birds nesting in the trees to scatter and the animals in the nearby woods to flee. All, except the one that had it’s eyes on her. The pause of the young girl was just long enough for it to reach her.

    She again tried to run, but it was too late. The furry beast leapt on her and with one swipe of a powerful paw, she lay there beside her grandmother, silently.

    Reply
  5. James Alfred

    Jane and James were out on a hike. It was a great day to be out hiking in the woods. But Jane told James she could smell something very nasty. Yeah I smell the same thing, What is that smell? It smells like a dead rabbit. I think said Jane. They hiked on wards. Look over there James what is that? Said Jane. James walked over to it to get a closer look and it was a dead body. Jane it is a body of a young lady. Do what James? It is a dead body. Jane started to freak out because she knew they were about 40 miles from any towns and any help. James can you tell what happen to her? she asked. Yeah it looks like she was shot in the head. What? We did to get the hell out of here and get help. She said. Yeah I know. James said. But i think i know her. What do you mean you know her? I have seen her before I just cant put my figure on it. I think she is on the top 10 most wanted list. James you would know cant you ever go anywhere without having to do your job? Sorry baby it just happens. yeah yeah I do know her. Her name is Dawn Johnson. She was in court not to long ago for rapping and killing a guy. She got 25 to life. As they were moving her from New York upper state prison. A van hit the transport car she was in head on. She was able to get free and walk off. No one has been able to find her until now. Who in the hell shot her is what I am wanting to know? Jane asked

    Reply
    • Ryan Neave

      Well, It flowed nicely. it kept moving from the next detail to the next. The grammar is what killed it, however. I feel if you just paid a bit more attention to the spelling of words, and remembering to put quotations around the characters speech, it would make the insignificant plot holes all the more forgivable.

    • James Alfred

      Thanks Ryan,
      Means a lot to me. Yes i know the spelling is one i need to work on. It is really hard to remember that when I only have 15 mins. to do this. LOL But I will be working on that. Yes the quotations well i am still learn or relearning it i should say. Really means a lot thank for you intel. I will put it to work on the writing.

  6. M.FlynnFollen

    I could have kept going but this was 15 mins worth. Thank you for the inspiration.

    A thin crust of ice covered the soft snow powder and when Ben walked over it he could feel the layer of ice try to hold the beginning of his weight but then as he leaned forward it would pop and his big brown boot would plunge through the powder to the frozen earth below. He popped and popped through the snow crossing through the leafless wooden forest touching the rough bark for the maples to help keep him steady. His socks begin to get wet as snow melted and dripped through the eyelets of his boot. “nice shortcut”, He mumbled to him self. He kept popping, pop, pop, pop, then a different sound, He paused, looked down and the ice was already broken. He stepped into something else’s foot print. The powder below had begun to already begun harden in these boot holes. He looked around in a circle to see if the owners were still around. Not one pop or crunch to be heard or seen. He noted two sets of tracks. He traced the steps with his eyes through the trees and spotted a small red/yellow plaid flag on the ground in the distance. He squinted hard then curiosity followed the prints through the trees, touching his blue tinted hands to the froze bark of passing trees.

    Reply
    • Stephanie Yoon

      Wow! This is great! I loved how you use imagery in the beginning to really set your reader up. I think you could work on your “readibility.” Sometimes the grammar or word order of your sentences made it hard to read your story in one go. I would have had to stop and then re-read some sentences over and over to get the meaning. It would help to read your story out loud while editing and revising it to see where in the story your “flow” is disrupted. While writing, we don’t notice this, but once we read it aloud, you can definitely see it. Otherwise great start!

    • M.FlynnFollen

      Stephanie, Thank you for taking the to leave me feedback. I agree, I definitely should get in the habit of reading out loud when I am editing. Much appreciated!

  7. Stephanie Yoon

    The young woman, aged 20, a college student from Boston with blond hair and blue eyes was walking through the forest. Her leather mahogany Frye boots brushed through the fallen leaves of the forest. She takes a right turn at the fork when from the corner of her eyes, she sees something. Amidst the red, orange, yellow mix of leaves on the forest floor, she spots something blue. Like a dark denim blue. As she slowly inches forward, she sees that the dark blue denim is longer than it is wide and resembles legs. She sense in her gut that something is wrong. Something is amiss. Yet she continues moving forward. The long dark blue denim ends and she sees a red and black plaid flannel shirt that has blended in perfectly with the forest floor. Her worst fears are confirmed. She finds at last a face with two sunken and empty eyes staring straight at her. A body dead, motionless, lifeless, gone. Her 1st instinct, as would all, was to scream. But her scream, to note, was much lower than a female’s, almost like a male’s. The young woman next frantically reaches to her back jean pocket to call 911. Her hands, jittery as if she’d drank a gallon of coffee loses hold of her phone and drops it right on top of the dead body. The young woman shrieks again. Too scared to retrieve her phone, the young woman sprints back the way she came, and back to the parking lost where she finds an elderly white couple. She runs up to them and without a greeting demands for a phone. The confused elderly man slowly pulls out his phone to which the young woman quickly snatches and punches the number 9-1-1.
    At the end, the dead body is taken away by the ambulance and the young woman explained to the police why her phone was on top the dead body. The young woman’s story is believed and she returns back to her normal life.

    ~~~~~(below: CAPS indicate change from previous story) ~~~~~~~~

    The young woman, aged 20, a college student from GEORGIA with DARK NAPPY hair and BLACK eyes was walking through the forest. Her 5-YEAR OLD SNEAKERS FROM THE CLEARANCE SECTION OF WALMART brushed through the fallen leaves of the forest. She takes a right turn at the fork when from the corner of her eyes, she sees something. Amidst the red, orange, yellow mix of leaves on the forest floor, she spots something blue. Like a dark denim blue. As she slowly inches forward, she sees that the dark blue denim is longer than it is wide and resembles legs. She sense in her gut that something is wrong. Something is amiss. Yet she continues moving forward. The long dark blue denim ends and she sees a red and black plaid flannel shirt that has blended in perfectly with the forest floor. Her worst fears are confirmed. She finds at last a face with two sunken and empty eyes staring straight at her. A body dead, motionless, lifeless, gone. Her 1st instinct, as would all, was to scream. But her scream, to note, was much lower than a female’s, almost like a male’s. The young woman next frantically reaches to her back jean pocket to call 911. Her hands, jittery as if she’d drank a gallon of coffee loses hold of her phone and drops it right on top of the dead body. The young woman shrieks again. Too scared to retrieve her phone, the young woman sprints back the way she came, and back to the parking lost where she finds an elderly white couple. She runs up to them and without a greeting demands for a phone. The confused elderly man slowly pulls out his phone to which the young woman quickly snatches and punches the number 9-1-1.
    At the end, the dead body is taken away by the ambulance and the young woman explained to the police why her phone was on top the dead body. HOWEVER, HER STORY IS NOT BELIEVED BY THE POLICE. THE POLICE BRING HER AND THE ELDERLY WHITE COUPLE TO THE STATION. THE COUPLE CLAIM TO BE WITNESSES. THAT THEY SAW THE YOUNG WOMAN WALKING WITH THE MAN NOW DEAD AND THAT THEY HEARD A MAN SCREAMING. DESPITE THE HOSPITAL ALLIBI’S SHOWING THAT THE DEAD BODY WAS AT LEAST 2 DAYS OLD, THE POLICE IMPRISONS THE YOUNG WOMAN FOR MURDER. THIS 20 YEAR OLD COLLEGE STUDENT’S LIFE HAS NOW COMPLETELY CHANGED.

    Reply
    • M.FlynnFollen

      Sadly, two common stories that should have the same ending.

      A critique note: First, Realistically an old white guy would not pull his phone out at all for the black girl ( thats a joke, but not really ). Second, I think you should add more “showing” then “telling” when describing a scene. It takes a lot more time ( for me anyway ) but I find the writing ends up being so much richer.

      Thanks for sharing.

    • Stephanie Yoon

      Hi – thanks for your feedback. I do agree that I need to have more “showing” in my piece. I’ll definitely work on that. Thanks for your tips!

  8. Ryan Neave

    Some people are hard to talk to. Why is that? While most of the time they are for the reasons most obvious, such as the person having a lack of manners, or even that the person is just uninteresting to you, there is more to it. I was talking to this girl on the phone that I met on a dating site. She is strictly just a female to talk on the phone to, for it is very unlikely we will meet. So after having talked about four times now, I can honestly say I am not that too eager for there to be a fifth time. Just for your information, the first conversation we had was probably best one we had, and this was the first time talking to each other. We ever mentioned the next day the fact. However, for some reason It has become, shall I say a chore, to engage in a conversation with her. It is not because she is not nice or exactly uninteresting. For example, I was talking to Emily the other night, and quite frequently during our conversation of still getting to know each other, there were lulls in the conversation. Now this is relatively common to happen, especially between people who are still getting aquainted with each other, but guess who had to think of something to talk about mostly every single time? Me.

    Reply
  9. Shoana Hydes

    A young couple happily in love, in there mid 20’s away on a weekend away in a log cabin.
    Joe asks Jennifer “would you like to take the dog for a walk and take advantage of the scenery” to Jennifers reply “of course I would love to,ill get the dog ready”. Off they went through the woodlands, the sun was beaming down through the bright blue sky filled with big white puffs of clouds. Joe was throwing the ball for Ben the labradoor to fetch back, meanwhile Jennifer was taking photos as memories for there scrab book back at home.
    The floor was dry, mud effect. Imprints of horse shoes along the trail, the leafs on the trees were brown and crispy but beautiful to look at. They walked out for about an hour when suddenly Ben was missing, Joe threw the ball and he hadn’t brought it back, jen began to panic and then out into the distance was Bens bark ,the young couple began making their way in that direction. Ben had lost his ball in a pile of fallen leafs, as Joe began moving the leafs he discovered a body, stone cold , blonde hair,lacerations on the wrists and arms, Jennifer began to scream with fear and tears began rolling down her face like condensation on a shower screen, Joe dialed 999 and explained the events that have just taken place.

    Reply
  10. Ryan Neave

    A man opens a jar of peanut butter. He doesn’t seem to be too satisfied with the look of it, though. It just does not seem the way it should appear. Out of all the jars of peanut butter this man has opened in his life he has never seen one like this before. Without hesitation he throws it out, and goes into his living room. He turns on the T.V, and a screen with static appears. The man then remembers all the times this has happened in his lifetime, and how much worse it was then with even older television sets. Basically, he thought that the quality of the static could have been way more powerful and unsettling. The volume of the T.V could have emphasize the shrill sound, too. The man then gets up and stares out of the window. He spots an older man struggling to keep him self balanced while walking to and from his mailbox. Suddenly, the man tumbles onto his concrete door-way. The man peaking out of his window remembers all of the elderly people he has seen in his life-time. He has seen them hurt themselves even more than this old coot has now. He has seen them cut thereselves, bump their heads, and worse. Seriously the man thought, this is nothing.

    Reply
  11. Anthony

    I am going out on a whim and completing this writing exercise. I decided to go with the subject:

    ** A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods.
    What does she/he do?** Enjoy… (apologies for the formatting…I tried to toy around with it and fix indentations and all that but it still did not come out correctly)

    On a cold and foggy winter morning, Alice decided to take a jog through the woods. She’d been jogging nonstop for about an hour before she began to feel quite winded. She switched her pace to a slow stroll and proceeded lightly through the thick woods. She glanced back and forth through the tree line as she listened to the sound of her lungs filling and expelling air. Suddenly, something caught her
    eye. “What was that,” she thought to herself.

    She slowly crept towards the object that caught her eye. As she drew near, her vision became clearer but her breath…more unsteady. A tattered and torn dress became apparent. Purple ribbons of cloth blew in the wind, almost in sync with the dark black hair that flowed from the corpse. The woods began to howl and taunt her. They poked and prodded at her. Her senses heightened, as if they were never truly there. The smell of rotten and putrid flesh filled her
    nostrils and replaced the air that she had lost while jogging…filling her
    insides and making her stomach turn. Her eyes played tricks on her and she started to become faint and disorientated. Then…she thought…who did this to you?
    Moments after this thought dawned on her, she heard a nearby crackling. Surely, it was a twig…but the crackling she heard was more relateable to her heart bursting out of her chest. She cocked her head ever-so-slightly and noticed a large dark figure peering through the fog. She also caught a faint glimpse at something shiny and red. She knew what was behind her, even though she barely saw. Her chest tightened, her heart and lungs pumped…and her legs propelled her onward through the fog. She heard the dark figure trampling the terrain behind her, as if an enraged elephant was charging at her. I have to keep moving…I have to get out of here…
    After minutes of running, a bright orange fabric burst through the trees. It was another jogger in the distance…unfortunately they were too far to hear the commotion. She stopped and attempted to scream with the remaining breath that she had. Just as she attempted to open her mouth she felt a sharp thrust. And in an instant her breath and words abandoned her.

    Reply
  12. Ryan Neave

    A sales associate at a store is clocking in for his shift. After having done that, he notices a pretty blonde standing in back of him waiting to do the same. He has never seen this girl, and is even more bewildered by her beauty. He walks onto the floor of his department, thinking about her. He wants to know where she works in the store so he can have a chance to say something. At the end of his shift, he is now clocking out. However, instead of how it was before, he is now standing in back of the new girl. She turns to leave, barely noticing him, and begins to make her way to the front of the store. Not knowing when she works next, and in a pure state of impulse, he says to her to “wait up.” The girl is very startled by this request from a person she does not even know. The boys clocks out and approaches her. She does not seem to be too interested, however. He greets her and asks her some questions about her self. She then starts to appear annoyed and asks the gentleman “Why do you want to talk to me for?” The boy, taking not even a second longer than…well a second, replies “Cause’ your pretty.” The girl then says “Exactly” and continues walking. The boy seems very disappointed. Maybe he will talk to her some other time. If she will allow it. What other reason would it be for?

    Reply
  13. hodgsonwj

    He woke in near darkness, shivering. His torn t-shirt wasn’t much protection
    against a rainy November evening. He wouldn’t have risked a fire even if
    he’d had matches. The gash on his left arm throbbed and had been bleeding
    again. He clenched his teeth on one end of the piece of t-shirt that he’d tied
    above the wound, wrapped the other end around his right hand, held his breath,
    and pulled. The pain pierced his arm, and his eyes watered in his effort not to yell.
    He cleaned the blood around the wound with his lips and his tongue, and the
    familiarity of its iron taste somehow calmed him. The bleeding stopped.

    How to make it back to the cabin and Amy and the girls, before they gave up on
    him and left for home? He reckoned they didn’t have much reason to trust
    him anymore. He peered through the back of the lean-to for several minutes.
    Nothing moved. He heard a tractor-trailer speed past a mile away on Highway 2.
    “Now or never,” he said to himself, “alive or … No! I’ll make
    it. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes.”

    He used his right arm to push himself up and stood stock-still for another full
    minute. He saw nothing move, but his scalp tingled with the feeling that menacing
    eyes were tracking him. He breathed slowly, silently, the scent of pines in his
    nostrils. He looked for twigs that could snap underfoot and give him away. At
    length satisfied, he began treading carefully on the forest floor, his feet
    sinking into the thick covering of fallen pine needles, stealing from tree to
    tree. The rain had stopped. A light breeze came up, and brought a familiar
    rotting smell, over to the left. Even before he turned and looked, he knew he
    would see the body of his son. His head was split open, bone chips and brain
    spattered on a rusty axe on the ground near his feet. “No! Rafe!”, he roared as
    he crouched and ran, heedless now of danger.

    Reply
    • Tracey MG

      hi. i am intrigued by this which is a good thing! i want to read more so i can say you have captured my attention and made me curious about your character’s story; very important aspects of a good story! i would caution against using well trod turns of a phrase like “Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes” … see if you can create as meaningful a phrase yourself. Rafe — great name! i look forward to more

    • hodgsonwj

      Tracey – thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment. I agree with your reaction to his cliche-like thoughts, I was a bit lazy in a couple of spots! I looked for something a bit uncommon in a name, and I figured Rafe would be a good one for him to “roar”. I am also intrigued by this, maybe I’ll keep going with it to see who all these people are! I actually stole the first line from the Game of Thrones series of books, it was Jaime Lannister who “woke in darkness, shivering”! I happened to be reading that when I was thinking about this writing practice.

    • Robo Hunter

      This is good. I really like the short punchy sentences that are to do with the sense of being out in the woods. It is really well paced and I like the flow of it too. If you knocked this out in 15 mins then bravo. Are continuing with this story because, you know what? This makes me want to read more.

    • hodgsonwj

      Many thanks – it probably took me an hour to do this. I appreciate the positive feedback, and your encouragement makes me lean towards fleshing it out into something, not sure what yet.

    • Rico Elhady

      Enjoyed it very much. Grabbed my attention immediately. Would want to know, till the end.

    • pgq

      This was like an excerpt from the middle of a novel. It flowed well, there was the right mix of description and action. I wanted to just keep reading.

  14. Catherine Canary Simmons

    This is excellent, thank you! I’ve started day one. So much fun!

    Reply
  15. Ryan Neave

    A guy walks into a bar. He takes a seat right next to the door he entered in. Realizing he is the only patron in the bar, he decides to strike up a conversation with the bartender. He starts the conversation off with a joke: “A guy walks into a bar…”

    Reply
  16. Tracey MG

    Ed walked through the woods looking for that ridiculous chicken. He’d come this way once before but now the path had turned off, away from the farm. He could see a bit of light in the distance but he had no idea where he was, really. He only knew that Rosie the chicken had wandered off again, his Mom was late home from work again, and he was alone…again

    Our chickens are free-range; they get to go where they please. Rosie seemed best pleased when leading Ed on wild goose chases; “Ha”, he thought, “I should change that to wild hen chases”. The light in the distance was coming closer but not yet so close as to help with Ed’s footing; he tripped over roots and stumbled on rocks. That gave him a strange outlook on the woods sometimes because, if you lay where you fell, you might find half-rotted logs and all manner of mushroom. At 9 years old, mushrooms were exotic. Ed had no interest in them when Mom served them for dinner but here, all dewy and weird looking, he was interested indeed!
    His Gran had warned him against eating any mushrooms. In fact, his Gran had warned him against so many things when they first moved here that he couldn’t remember them all.
    He lay there contemplating old home and new home; old rules and new rules for awhile but then he thought he’d caught a glimpse of Rosie’s white tail feathers up ahead.
    He picked himself up from the wet ground and kept on after that bird.

    As he came into a clearing the source of the light presented itself. There was a small but strong fire surrounded by 8 or 10 small but strong boys sitting on stumps. Ed stood stock still and listened hard. The boys were all dressed the same and sort of strangely too. They laughed at something until an adult came into view, dressed strangely too, short pants, kerchief. The adult poked at the fire a bit and kneeled down to give the boys instructions Ed could not hear.

    Just then, Ed caught a glimpse of Rosie. She had, as always, fallen asleep where she stood when the sun went down. On this day she had made it to a stump of her own on the other side of the fire boys. Ed would have to get her but wasn’t sure how to do that without (Timer)

    Reply
    • hodgsonwj

      Too bad about that timer, no dead body! I actually thought it was Rosie who was going to turn up dead. Lots of humour here, mixed in with the ominous mystery of those boys and the adult – it works for me! Love it when Rosie falls asleep in her tracks! One thing which might need fixing is the point of view maybe – “Our chickens are free-range” seems like first person, a switch from third person elsewhere: “Ed walked…”

      Regards,

      John

    • Ryan Neave

      I do like it. It has a nice style/pace. Although I feel like a lot of details are thrown in, and I get confused. The transition can be improved, Also. I think it was interesting.

  17. Ryan Neave

    A man named Stan is walking down the street. He is walking at a fast pace, yet he looks very tired at the same time. He passes by a coffee shop, then figures he could go for a cup. He orders his cup of coffee and sits down at the closest table nearby, which also happens to be the smallest. Stan is exhausted yet he really wants to get home and lay down. Work was rough that day. He still has a little more of his trek to his house to complete. He slightly burns his tongue on the steaming beverage, trying to finish it quickly so he can be on his way. He decides to just throw the remainder of it away in the trash, realizing that if it hasn’t cooled down a little by this point, it will take more time that quite frankly Stan is not willing to wait. He then makes his way towards the door, and out onto the sidewalk. About thirty minutes later, Stan arrives at his house. He quickly puts his belongings away, and then plops down on his couch. The inevitable in this case, would be for Stan to fall asleep relatively fast, yet he does not. He watches tv.

    Reply
  18. Ryan Neave

    Walking through the woods, a couple stumble upon a dead deer. Flies are swarming around, and the smell being emitted is just a little too much for the man and the woman, especially the woman. Therefore, they continue to walk along the path past the rotting carcass only to discover that a humongous puddle blocking their way. This puts a bit of a dent in their plans, for they were trying to find a quiet place to be alone together. As they turn to walk the way they came from, they notice a nice bench fairly near the dead dear. Perhaps they were to distracted and repulsed by the deer to realize a seat in an otherwise peaceful area. They sit down, and put each others arms around one another. The deceased animal has suddenly not become an issue, because they are enjoying being together in the quiet. All of a sudden, They hear from what it sounds like a bird cawing in the distance, more than one. Vultures swoop down, flying rapidly around the body, and near the couple. In a moment of fear, they run through the puddle.

    Reply
  19. Ryan Neave

    “Stop correcting me,” John said to Millie. It appears that john misread the name of an item on the list of special’s printed on a sign. They are sitting in a diner, on a Friday night. They have just arrived and gotten a table. John reaches for a menu almost immediately upon taking a seat in the booth, where Millie takes a few seconds to take off her heavy jacket and placing her pocket book to the side. “Aren’t you gonna take off your jacket?,” Millie asks of John. John pretends he doesn’t hear her, and continues reading. After making up his mind on what to order, he folds the menu back up and slides it to his left. He then notices Millie yet still reading her menu. He then asks her a rather similar question, “Why did you take off your jacket?.” “Ummm cause I feel more comfortable, and it is warm in here, and yeah, it is a heavy jacket.” The waiter then arrives to ask them what they will have. See”, John said, “maybe if you weren’t busy with all of that you would know.

    Reply
  20. Ryan Neave

    Harold

    Reply
  21. Ryan Neave

    A man is sitting at a library computer. He is just doing some senseless web surfing. He goes onto his pinterest account. There, he spots a picture of an absolutely beautiful girl. Feeling very excited from the picture, he decides to see more photos put up by this female user. As soon as the page changes to the next, the man is confronted with a particularly revealing picture. Realizing he is at the library, he right clicks the exit button as fast as his next heart beat. He looks to his left and his right, and in back of him to make sure nobody has seen the obviously not suitable material for a library. He logs off and makes his way to the bathroom. When he exits the bathroom and takes a sip of water from the fountain, a little girl, about six or seven, sees the man and asks why he was looking at those dirty pictures. Speechless, the man stutters and explains that it was an accident. She explains to him that she was in the children’s section that is located on the other side of the computer. She goes on how she was reading a book, and as soon as she lifted her eyes up, a vey inappropriate picture was visible. “Library is for reading, not that.” The man agrees with the little girl and they both wlk away.

    Reply
  22. Tiffany R.

    Sometimes Laura really hated her husband. Today was one of those days. As she wandered the wooded property surrounding their home, Laura reflected on last night’s events that led her to feel this loathing toward James. He once again discovered Laura was having an affair. His reaction was always the same, that of a kicked puppy. He would grow sullen, sometimes cry and pout like a child. It was disgusting. She knew the kind of man she had married, an investment banker who spent his time behind a desk staring at a computer and calculations. He was soft. Not at all who she had imagined she would end up marrying, but Laura did what was necessary to improve her status. To cope with her disgust of her relationship, she spent the last nine years with various lovers to satisfy her need for a strong man to ravage her. She knew James would never ask for a divorce, no matter how tired he grew of her infidelity. He needed her intimate knowledge of his clients as much as she needed his wealth.
    Laura continued to wander aimlessly, taking in the sounds of the woods. As she approached a large cluster of boulders and bushes, the sound of metal hitting stone drew her attention. She navigated her way through the underbrush quietly so as not to give herself away. She noticed movement through the trees and quickly recognized her husband’s unmistakable form, shoveling methodically. When she drew closer, she saw James was not alone. At his feet was what looked like the body of a man, wrapped in plastic. A black tennis shoe protruding from the wrappings at one end and a tuft of blonde hair peeking through the other. Laura, intrigued by the scene before her, continued forward. James stopped when he saw her, but instead of the usual timid expression Laura expected, she was met with a cold stare. She glanced down at the body lying at her feet. Even with the majority of the skull caved in and blood coating what features remained, Laura knew who it was. Stephen, her most recent lover. When she looked back up into James’ grey eyes, she couldn’t help but smile. There was a rush of heat that began to course through her as she reached out to grab James by the collar of his shirt. Laura pulled him to her and kissed him with a passion she had never thought possible. (timer)

    Reply
    • christih

      This was very intriguing and although I at first thought the characters were going to be flat and typical, now I’m very interested to know more about them! Great job!

    • Tiffany R.

      Thank you! It is the first thing I have written in a long time and am trying to get back into the swing of things, making sure I am writing at least SOMETHING every day. Maybe I will use these characters as a premise for an actual story or novel…we shall see!

  23. Ryan Neave

    A thief who just got out of jail for the same type of crime is at it again. “Your a serial thief,” one of his buddies told him. At that exact moment, he began to crave cereal. He is going to the closest store and he is going to steal a box of it. A fairly minor crime, in his opinion, that if he plays his cards right, and acts like he has been doing this for some time now, in which he very much has, will get out of there Scott-Free. He pushes his apartment door open, and quickly makes a right turn. He walks down the sidewalk headed in the direction of a gas station. He walks in calm and confidently, and heads down the aisle where the rather limited selection of cereal, especially when compared to an actual grocery store, is located. The man grabs a box of froot loops. Looking up at the front of the store, he notices the clerk talking to a very attractive female customer. At that exact moment, he forces the box down his pants, and then walks out the door.

    Reply
  24. Ryan Neave

    “No ,no ,no ,no ,no ,no. Do it right or don’t do it at all!,” a tap dance instructor harshly explains to her student. The student, a teenage girl, does not seem to be that thrilled with this class, or the teacher. In fact, it most surely could be both. The girl is not the ideal tap dancer, though. Fed up, having to endure three hours prior of constant yelling and complaining, she silently walks away, not saying a word to her instructor. The woman takes a few seconds to realize this sudden action, and finally says” Go ahead, honey. your not the standard, feminine girl this class is made for.” The girl quickly reaches down to her left foot and snatches her heavy shoe off of it. Standing up now, the girl hurls it at the woman. She lets out a light scream, and falls down. The girl then lets a small chuckle.

    Reply
  25. sethli

    Hi! I’m just starting writing a book. It’s going to be a chapter book.Joe Bunting really inspired me to write. I always thought I would never finish my book, but now that Joe encouraged me I will, I will finish my book.

    Reply
  26. Ryan Neave

    “Walking is boring. Running, now that is not as.” This boy thinks a lot, as you can tell. He has to think about running instead of walking this way, instead of actually doing it. However, that is the main reason the boy wants to run so he can get out of his mind a little bit. He wants to run so much in one time that he will feel at one point that his heart will reach the maximum speed a heart can reach. He is moving now, in a gigantic park. This park has a trail that goes through an open field, the woods, and even in relatively rocky areas. The boy could care less, cause all he wants to do is see how far he can run.

    Reply
    • christih

      I feel like this could be the beginning of a fascinating story about this boy. I like that there is a lot of character development in this. I’d tighten up the language a bit (just cut out anything extra, like “as you can tell” and the whole sentence about the park, since we only need to know the boy is ignoring the park). Great start and I hope you can follow this up with some more story about how the running and the boy come together!

    • Ryan Neave

      Thanks. I was trying to include as much character development, to maintain a focus. I definitely will write more!

  27. Ryan Neave

    A young boy, named franklin, comes running home on day. The look in his face is not pain, its the exact opposite. Franklin runs across his front lawn diagonally to his door and enters. He spots his parents in the living room, and before even entering their area, he screams of enjoyment. “What is it Frankie?,” his father asks his son in anticipation for the answer. Franklyn takes his book bag off of his back and plops it on the ground. He then unzips it and pulls a paper out. “Look!,” Franklyn exclaims as he runs towards his parents with the paper. His mother takes the paper out of the excited boy’s hands and looks at it, along with her husband. “It says “F” Franklyn.” “Looks like your still daydreaming, huh?”

    Reply
    • Milady Diaz

      Oh dear. What is it with Franklyn? Does he got special needs? Am I gonna hate his parents? What happens next? O.o

  28. christih

    Letters from a widow:

    “It’s been cold lately. Not the cutting sharp cold of autumn, but the dull ache-in-your-bones damp cold of a winter that has gone on too long. The sun came out for a couple hours yesterday, but overall it’s been grey and it’s starting to wear on me. I sit at home and wonder, if you were here, would we go out? Would we bundle up and head out to eat somewhere or go see a movie? But, of course, we wouldn’t. We always stayed home, wrapped in blankets and our routines. But I still wonder. Maybe things would be different. If you were here.”

    “I went to the store yesterday to grab groceries for the week. My appetite has tapered off, like it usually does when I only have me to worry about, and I’m trying to remember to make meals instead of just snacking all day long. But the grocery store is no fun without you. I buy a package of our favorite cookies and no longer can depend on seeing your smile when you pull it out of the bag. I have to remember to only buy the ice cream flavors I like—no one will eat the cookies and cream. And then I feel guilty about all the times I only came home with chocolate and didn’t bring home your flavors. You said you didn’t care, but now I regret not showing you that extra kindness. You always brought chocolate home for me. ”

    “The kids called today. I spend lots of time talking to the girls and even Caleb will call frequently, even if he doesn’t want to chat as much as the other girls. I remember doing this with my mom. She was always busy, but she still took the calls. I wish you were here to hear their lives. But you wouldn’t sit on the phone the way I do. You would just get the short version from me later. Still, it would be nice to share with someone who understands our girls and our relationship with them. But you aren’t here to talk to. So instead I think of you and feel sad after each call. I hope you are listening from heaven and if you are, I know you understand what I’m thinking and are laughing with me at the naïve and wonderful way the world works—our girls making the same mistakes we made, worrying about the same things, calling mom when things aren’t working. There is a sort of justice in life after all.”

    “I read the news headlines everyday when I lay down to nap. I scroll through them and realize that history really does repeat itself and that we humans never learn. I wish you were here to laugh at the stupid things that come up, and to feel the overwhelming hopelessness when evil reappears and innocents face tragedies. How do we hold enough love in our hearts to feel for everyone? And how do we as a race still somehow avoid helping and caring and fixing all the things that we have broken? I don’t know what it will take, but with each new generation I see that we just still have so far to go. Do you remember when I told you I wished I had gone to help people sometime in my past? You told me to go anytime I liked—that you would support me. That meant the world and I didn’t go because of our family, but now it’s too late and I simply wait helplessly as people suffer and I feel like a hypocrite for even feeling sorry for them. Do you think I’ll ever escape that feeling? I wish you were here to tell me that I can still go and do the great things I dream of. Even if you are just making me feel better.”

    “I burnt the dinner tonight. Like usual I was trying to do too many things and the house filled with smoke and the pan turned dark. I ended up eating a microwave dinner. I’m not sure why I even bother trying to cook anymore. Perhaps because it feels like I should be eating real food. But you’re not here and the kids are gone and I am just so damn lonely that in some ways it feels right to be eating a stupid microwave meal alone at the table way past dinner time while the dishes soak in the sink. I will go to bed and start again tomorrow and it will be fine. But for now I relive all the times I burnt dinner and knew that even though you loved food and your mother cooked great meals you never judged me on that. I was not only my harshest critic, but my only critic. Except the kids. I smile as I remember how the kids used to tiptoe around asking you to make dinner—you do it the BEST dad! They’d crow if I wasn’t in the room. I never really took offense, because I liked your food too. But you always stood up for me, even when you didn’t know I was listening. And you always ate my burnt dinners, even when I didn’t. I still don’t know why you did that, but it will always be how I picture family dinner—all of us as I apologize and say “you don’t have to eat it, we have lots of other stuff” and you saying “no, it’s fine. Thanks for cooking dinner” as I smile apologetically and we share a moment of appreciating each other over the kids loud complaints. I miss those times.”

    Reply
    • Karen Buchanan

      Dear Christi H.,
      I love your “Letters from a widow:”. And I don’t like tragedies. I don’t like to cry. You convey the widow’s emotions well through her thoughts. I really felt the pain from her. Her description of the weather sets it up immediately; it reflects her mood. It felt real. I could imagine each of the scenes she describes. The pathos that things would probably be the same, not the way she would like, even if he were still alive, touched me. Very real. Very human.

      I didn’t realize that each section was a different “letter” until the end, when I started to critique it and noticed the title. If that is the case, and I’m still not sure if it is, and not just the first letter in a book of letters, then dates or times might help with continuity. I felt a little hiccup in my brain after the change of subject at each break, despite the skipping of lines. Perhaps you could add some graphic between each section to help the brain change gears? Or maybe her say she knows she’s rambling a bit, (even though letters often do)? Wasn’t sure it was done at the end. Was it? If so, maybe something to signify that to the reader? Maybe a repetition of something from the beginning? Just thoughts.

      Good job conveying her loneliness and love by what she tells him and the things that she remembers. I especially liked the appreciation she shows of little things he did that meant a lot because they showed his love for her. And she treasures them. Especially the ones that no one else did, or could do, because they weren’t him. She misses him. And it’s beautiful.

    • Donovane van Dyk

      While reading this you can strongly sense how this lady must feel, that is a quality that I believe cAries this story. It’s well written. I would personally suggest adding a bit of humor to maybe a old situation that they encountered. Just to lighten the load.Expecially when it does not seem like more than one letter because of the tone. Whether intended to be one or not I believe adding a dash of humor to a good memory that she will soon regret , could add value. But in general this is a beautifully written story.

    • Cordelia Gerald

      You captured each reflection so vividly. I
      I f

    • Cordelia Gerald

      You captured each reflection so vividly. It is almost as if I can hear you say, if I only knew that he would be gone so soon I could have been so much more. I could almost hear him say through your description. I love you and appreciate you just the way you are. What comes to mind is the song ” Don’t go changing just to please me , you never let me down so far ….I love you just the way you are.” Your story gives hope that love is real and continuous regardless of physical presence. Keep on writing

    • christih

      Thank you! I’m so glad you caught the emotion of the piece.

    • Jen

      Yes. You stated this perfectly. My husband died of cancer almost 2 years ago. This is where I am.

    • christih

      Thank you for the compliment! And you’re right–a couple humorous things would really round it out better, since that’s what life is made of!

    • christih

      Thank you Karen for the kind comments and the good critiques. This was a 15 minute practice so it was written “on the fly” but you’re exactly right–it needs more structure to delineate the letters and organization. I appreciate your reading and critique. Thanks again!

    • christih

      Thank you Karen for the kind words and wonderful help with this piece. I agree–dates would really help! I’ll have to add them. Thanks for your reply!

    • Debra johnson

      Christi h, I loved your Letters from a widow as well. I had to stop and regroup a few times though. Next month will be a year since my beloved husband died after battling with cancer. I felt her emotion and often thought this is how my husband and I were. Especially on cool days bundled under our blankets hooked to our routines. I was thinking of writing a letter to my hubby just as you did here to honor his memory and tell him I miss him and still think about him often.

    • christih

      Oh Debra, thank you for your comment and I hope you are doing okay with all the emotions you must still be feeling. I’m sure a letter to honor and “talk” to your husband would be beautiful.

    • Lewis

      Christi, you’ve conveyed so much sadness and despair. All her joy is in the past, isn’t it? She has nothing to look forward to. Now she remembers the details that she might have taken for granted as they happened. I’m wondering if this is meant to be a story or if it’s simply a vignette. If it’s the latter, it seems like a marvelous starting place for a story. What happens next? If it’s meant to be a story by itself, I think it lacks that “what happens” element. I hope you keep working with it!

    • christih

      Thanks Lewis! I honestly didn’t think of where the story would go from here, but it would be interesting to see what happens next! I’ll have to keep fiddling to see if I can get some plot that matches it.

    • IcePixie165

      Christi, I really enjoyed this post (not that enjoyed is the right word, but still). I think the tone of the piece was conveyed extremely well, and I think the structure helped it to do that. I liked that each paragraph started with a simple sentence, went on to talk about what happened, and then elaborated on feelings. I’m not sure, as others seemed to be, that these were each the stories of different characters… I felt they were all from the same person.

    • christih

      Thank you–yes, they were all the same person. I just did the 15 minute window, so I’m not sure where the story would go from there. But the focus on feelings seems to be something everyone likes so I’d probably follow that pattern. Thanks again for the comment!

    • Milady Diaz

      Oh man. It’s like I want to sit down and have cup of tea with her so she can let all that out. Very touching.

    • christih

      Thank you! I appreciate the comment.

    • Rishav Anand

      I have no words to describe how I am feeling right now, just after reading this..All i can say is that I felt the pain you portrayed..It teaches us to value our relations before they are gone and not to take them as granted.. Maybe i will call my parents right away and ask about their whereabouts.

    • Esther

      I too thought it was well written. Awesome piece of writing I thought!

    • christih

      Thank you!

    • christih

      Thank you! I hope you had a good conversation with your parents 🙂

    • Hindra Saputra

      Man, this is really a tear jerker letter and count me in. I’m a sucker for this type of story and this is really really good.

    • christih

      Thank you–I’m not sure where the story would go from here, but I am also a sucker for this type of honest, somewhat sad, real story.

    • soldep

      It brought tears to my eyes. It felt real. What a beautiful piece of writing!

    • Vicki Baldwin

      I feel sorry for her. You made a very good writing by making me feel sad and you explained and described your character.

    • christih

      Thank you–I’m glad you were able to “see” the character.

    • christih

      Thank you–I’m glad you were able to catch the feeling of the piece.

    • Rachel

      That was a very touching story. I have a hard time critiquing it because I didn’t find anything you need to fix. It makes me want to hug my husband and tell him how much I love and appreciate him!

    • christih

      Thank you! I’m glad it motivated you to such a good act!

    • Rathin Bhattacharjee

      Nice piece of writing. You deserve kudos for writing “Letters ….” within 15 minutes. Your language along with the idea, is very good. Inspite of the widow missing her hubby, I was expecting some sort of twist at the end. That would have made the story even more interesting. All the best wishes with your writing practice and keep on writing.

    • christih

      Thank you! I honestly didn’t even think about tying it together into a story–I look at the 15 minute windows more as a basic practice of putting words on a page, less of a complete story. I’ll have to figure out where the story would go from here! Thanks and best of luck to you too.

    • Cookies&Cream

      (Note how famous cookies and cream is) OMG, this makes me feel sooo bad at writing now… (Hey, what can you expect from a teen who’s recently interested in literature and journalism?) I suppose it’s the same review and comment: the ending. Was expecting something a little more exciting or twisty lol. 😉 😉 😉 😉

    • christih

      Thanks for the compliment and response–I look forward to reading some of your work!

    • Cookies&Cream

      Ahahaha, doubt I’ll even dare to post anything here…

    • V Kow

      Wow. I wish I could write like that. You just put so much emotion and feeling into it. I loved it, and don’t have any suggestions! Great job.

    • christih

      Thank you so much! I just tried to put myself in that moment.

    • V Kow

      Well, great job doing that!

    • Tau Bataung

      Beautiful! Your writing reminds me of that song that Kris Kristofferson sang with Joan Baez called “Hello in there.” My Mom has been a widow since November 2003. I, now, sort of understand what she feels. I’ve been trying to get her to write down stuff…

    • christih

      Thank you! I hope your mom does write down some things…it is so key to helping the rest of us understand how people feel in any given situation.

    • Leaven Romeo Addi

      This is an emotionally touchy piece of writing, built out of the ordinary, trite everyday activities anyone could have expected to sound insipid and unappetizing. You are great Christih!

    • christih

      Thanks Leaven! I did worry about it sounding too emotional, so I’m glad it hit the right tone 🙂

    • Barbara O'Donnell

      A great job. I could feel your pain and longing. I, too, was a young widow at age 33.

    • christih

      Thank you! I am actually not a widow, but I just tried to channel what I would write if I were. I hope that that is not too presumptive, as I’m just practicing trying on roles for future writing. I’m so sorry for your loss and wish you the best.

    • Jen

      Christi this was very good. I’m surprised to see you say you are not a widow. Maybe you are walking beside someone who is? Because you captured a lot. I am younger than the character you portrayed, I keep thinking I’m a young widow but I guess you could call me a middle aged widow – I’ll be 50 this year. But I have school aged children so my situation is very different than what you described.

      But the feelings. You captured the feelings. This part grabbed me:

      “I sit at home and wonder, if you were here, would we go out? Would we bundle up and head out to eat somewhere or go see a movie? But, of course, we wouldn’t. We always stayed home, wrapped in blankets and our routines. But I still wonder. Maybe things would be different. If you were here.”

      Well done.

    • christih

      Thank you for your kind comments, and I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t really imagine what it would be like to have young kids and be going through this kind of pain. I wish you and your family the best.

    • Jen

      Thank you

    • Josy Monacho

      A really tender and deep write. As I was reading your words, I saw the scenes about your life and every feeling inside your heart.

    • Zeyad Ibrahim

      Amazing! You must be the best writer in the world. Keep it going.

    • christih

      Haha, thank you.

    • Muhammad Shoaib Sagar

      Very good

    • christih

      Thanks.

    • Charles

      I have to say that I like it very much on a personal level. I can’t add any more feedback just yet because I’m not “qualified”. I’m just starting this amazing writer’s journey myself.
      Best of luck!
      Chuck

    • christih

      Best of luck on your writing Chuck!

    • Shelby helona

      Hi my name is Shelby helona. This story is really good and it reminds me of my dog that died and I know you are under stress right now but I can help you get back to your real life and dream because I been there in under stress but I got help and I am offer it to you. For you to think about it. You can reach me at shelby.helona@gmail.com and I will post my story today in a few hours

    • Kathy H

      Wow, wonderful image and fantastic story. Loved how all the memories and love was poured out in this and all done in 15 minutes. I will keep working on my writings, as you gave me hope I can get to this point.

    • christih

      Thank you and good luck with your own writing!

    • Nguyen Hong An

      So touching. I could feel that you put your heart in every words, every moments that you was telling. Even it is not your own story, but in my perspective it is really real in the way it has been done by your own beautiful mind!

    • christih

      Thank you so much.

    • Sarah Barone

      It’s so detailed and beautiful keep it up

    • christih

      Thanks.

    • Rico Elhady

      Your piece is very talented. The words resemble that of a real widower would say and do in her casual life. Including remembering the cold, harsh memories of the past.

    • christih

      Thank you very much.

    • Andrew Cowen

      I love the descriptive style of your writing – you bring such sadness and nostalgia to the piece. I really like the way you make the mundane everyday things have such meaning. Lovely

    • christih

      Thank you!

    • John Rodgers

      Nicely done.

    • christih

      Thank you

    • eviikhrubik

      Hi Christi, I really enjoyed your piece of work. It made me see the scenery of what you have describe. I would have one comment: I didn’t fully understand that each paragraph is meant to be a separate letter. Otherwise, it is really nice. If you did this in 15 minutes, I feel like I need to learn a lot! 🙂

    • christih

      Thanks! I did do it in 15 minutes, but it sort of just spilled out. They aren’t always like that 🙂 And I appreciate your advice–I’ll have to put a date or something to break it up more.

    • Guest

      I can almost walk in those places. I like it. Thanks for sharing.

    • MR.NOTICE ME

      I enjoyed ur story from top-buttom

    • Elle

      My eyes filed with tears as I read your post. It is very nice work!

    • mister mister

      so beautiful , because for me you talked about things that happen in the real life and it seem coming from the deepest place of your heart .

    • christih

      Thank you!

    • Agustus

      Enriching! It’s more of a life experienced than a story created.It brings the real life of a widow.A good writer you are Christih

    • christih

      Thanks Agustus!

    • Heart Mori

      I can really feel the pain on your work. This is a very excellent piece. I wish I could do the same.

    • christih

      Thanks Heart. Best of luck in your own work!

    • Simran

      Its really beautiful and heart touching. It made me cry. You are awesome!

    • christih

      Thanks Simran!

    • Kenneth Barker

      Very, very nice

    • christih

      Thanks Kenneth

    • Kaushik

      So beautiful. i wanted to keep on reading. i wish it were longer.

    • christih

      Thanks Kaushik. I’ll have to see if I can make it a longer piece somehow.

    • Whitney Shaw

      Awww!!!!! this is so sweet. I love how you wrote it. So sweet. Thank you for sharing.

    • christih

      Thanks Whitney! I appreciate it 🙂

    • Jin Olivia

      It is so lovely, sweet and sorrow. Thank you. Nice writing.

    • christih

      Thanks Jin.

    • jackie

      I enjoyed reading this! It was so sweet and well written.

    • christih

      Thanks Jackie!

    • Jorge Christakos

      Very touching piece. I enjoyed the way you wrote it as a dialogue, which helps develop the narrator’s voice, something I could use in my own writing. I wonder if you could deliver still more impact using more specific details to bring it to life, like the microwave meal – what exactly was it? mac and cheese? or chicken parmesan? You do a great job of conveying your narrator’s emotion. Love it!

    • christih

      Thanks Jorge! I’m sure more details would help–I’ll see how to work that in. Thanks again.

    • Chiara

      The piece is very touching and i’m thinking the feeling when the the grief will reach me.

    • christih

      Thanks Chiara.

    • Claire Bond

      I really like this.I felt the sorrow and the connection between them. I notice it was quite a few months ago now, I hope you are still writing, it was a pleasure to read 🙂

    • christih

      Thanks Claire! I haven’t written for a while and need to get back to it. Thanks for the reply and encouragement.

    • chris hagans

      I really love how you were able to use ink to replace the blood in your heart by really describing the intense emptiness in you or the characters heart. You did an amazing and beautiful job conveying that this was indeed a memory of memories with the choice of perspective you wrote from. In the beginning I saw that, what looked like to me, were too many commas that kind of damped the feel of intensity. Maybe a few better choice of words or simplified way of expression would have made your piece even better. I must say, in conclusion, that many hearts will be touched by this beautiful work of art. I like how I was able to read and understand what was happening and how it felt. I’m the future info ever read anything else from you I would like to see some thoughts from the other characters and how they differ from one another. Make it more personal. But you did an amazing job with what time and space you had. Great work.

    • christih

      thank you for the reply! I love your critiques and will definitely work on them–they are very helpful. Thanks again.

    • Vinh Vu

      Whoa whoa whoa whoa was that even the whole story? Where is the ending? Wow was that a season or something? I admit it is better than mine

    • christih

      I was doing a “fifteen-minute practice” so it does end abruptly. I’ll have to see if I can work it into a longer piece somehow. Thanks!

    • Nika Gravador

      I cried when I read this. I can imagine the feeling. Kudos to you!

    • christih

      Thank you!

    • GJK

      This is beautiful. The pain and heartbreak drips from the rich prose. If the goal of a writer is to write one true thing, you’ve far exceeded expectations. There’s almost too much truth in it for my depressive nature. Thank you for sharing this – and giving me the chance to be a widow for a while.

    • christih

      This compliment makes me want to cry–thank you so much! I think that “this is truth” is the best compliment I could receive.

    • Toni Merflag

      Awesome! As an older woman who’s been alone for many years, I recognize this as *truth*. All the little details: cooking for one, a microwave oven that is “stupid” (lots of stupid stuff in my house), the loneliness, the good memories that make you smile, the loss of a loving and kind life partner, all really hit home for me. Fine writing. I can see it as a short memoir piece in a magazine (especially something like Redbook, Ladies Home Journal, Good Housekeeping, and no doubt others, you’d have to research the market. Or as part of a longer story, or even a novel. I don’t see anything here that needs to be fixed. I did notice that as the narrative progressed, the paragraphs got longer and longer. That might be something you could think about, and possibly break the last one – for instance – into a couple of shorter ones. Sometimes when I’m reading books, especially nonfiction, it’s easy to lose my place when the page is really packed with just one or two paragraphs, but that’s just me. Also, I’m impressed that you wrote all of that in only 15 minutes.
      I look forward to seeing what you write for next time.

    • christih

      Thanks Toni! I don’t know how to use it yet, but I’ll have to see where it fits best (and work it up the rest of the way). I did set a timer and this piece just spilled out. I always take a couple minutes afterward to clean it up a bit and format. I love your advice about keeping the paragraphs short. And yes, I am a fast typist 🙂 Thanks again!

    • Alexis

      I loved they way you made this story! You are going to be a great writer.

    • Alexis

      You could turn this into a larger story

    • Steffan Kraig

      Trail of death:

      The man was running on his normal trail through the lush forest near his house. One he’d run countless times before. So much so that he no longer thought on these runs, as if he was running on autopilot. It’s perhaps only for this very reason he managed to notice something that would turn his world upside down.

      Shady Grove was a quant town with a population of a few thousand. Most people knew each other. It was the kind of idyllic town that still saw people leaving their doors unlocked at night. This was about to change.

      Frank Hill noticed mound of fresh earth just off the trail he was running along. Given his knowledge of this particular section of the forest he thought it odd this was there. He approached curiously.

      “What could have caused this?”, he muttered to no one in particular.

      Just a few feet away his heart started beating faster. He spotted something he hoped wasn’t what he thought it was. As he squatted down directly over the mound of earth he brushed at what had caught his eye.

      He leaped back when his fears were made reality. Poking out of the ground was part of a human foot.

      His mind reeled at what he was seeing. How could this be possible?

      He slowly stood up in a daze, not noticing the shadow that was moving through the trees beside him.

      Just in time he turned to see something flying at his head and dropped below it’s lethal arc.

      His mind was chaos. All he could do was think of escape. He made his way back to the trail at a blinding pace and began his escape.

      The shadow could be felt by pure instinct directly behind him. It was unclear how close he was but Frank didn’t dare turn around. All his focus was ahead…

    • Halima Abdulkunle

      Nice. Very creative. This is very good and inspirational. Keep it up.

    • Billye Nipper

      Your writing caught me from the title. I am a 74 year old widow of eight years and so many of the things you wrote were things I have been thinking. I am twice a widow. My first husband died of leukemia in 1976. I met my second husband in 1987 and we married in 1988. He died in 2009 of multiple organ failure. Unlike you, I have had no children but I have a sister who has kids that serve as substitutes for me, I guess. Anyway, it sounds like you have the makings of an excellent book, and it is very well written. Good luck to you.

    • Imran Khan

      Ausum…

    • Khan

      fabulous. You are pro in writing and expressing it with perfect belance.

    • Anne

      Goodness. I am SO in love with this. If not for my difficulty in crying, there would be tears on my cheeks right now. Thank you so much for giving me this. Thank you so so much.

    • Junior Dathorne

      This is my first time reading and/or responding to another’s creativity. And after reading this, I am thankful that this was my first. It drew me in with a mixture of beauty and remembrance. I thoroughly enjoyed this snip it as I recalled some of my unwritten letters to anyone. BEAUTIFUL!

    • Abbey Richards

      This is so sweet. I started tearing up. Amazing job!

    • R.Priyanka Pandey

      Superb !!!!

    • Saira Hasnain

      Idea is good but there are some grammatical and punctuation mistakes….overall your writing is good

    • Saira Hasnain

      We should not only appreciate each other but also need to criticise so that we may be able to polish our writing.

    • Saira Hasnain

      I am also writing a story in these days and after completing my story I will also share a piece of my writing overthere

    • Shagufta Hayat Khan

      OMG…….That’s wonderful. I am in tears tbh. It felt so real. Its really impressive.

    • Dl Renzi

      It so nice.can tell how you feeling.
      Loved how you described the pain using the description of the knife.

  29. Ryan Neave

    Robin just wants to have a boyfriend. She has so much love to give, she just needs somebody to give it to.
    She is sitting in Mr. Alra’s English class. She finds the boy who sits next to her attractive. So, she finds an opportunity to talk to him and jumps at it. ” You like this class?” Robin asks the boy, whose name is not known. “Yeah, I do. Your in it.”

    Reply
    • Karen Buchanan

      This is a really good start on your story. I can feel emotion. It’s sweet, especially the boy’s response. It makes me want to read on, hoping it stays sweet and he’s not a jerk.

      There is a little bit of choppiness in the flow. You probably already know you have some grammar problems to fix. The second sentence is a run-on, which you should either make into two sentences, or put in a semicolon instead of the comma. The semicolon would be nice because it gives different lengths to your sentences and better flow. In your last sentence, “Your” should be “You’re” because he’s saying you are. You have a preposition “to” at the end of a sentence, which isn’t correct grammar, but it feels right because that is the way these characters would think and talk in this setting.

      That seems like a case of breaking the rules on purpose because it works better. Your short story or novel nicely fits the schoolgirl romance genre, which is in demand. Might make a nice paperback. You definitely elicit the squeal, the heartthrobing, and the aaah factor that make them popular.

    • Ryan Neave

      Thanks Karen. I could have definitely written more then. I try to come from a place in my writing where I get inside the characters in the story and write according to the way they would most likely think and talk.

    • Kimberly

      That is so-o-o cute! I really like his response!

    • Milady Diaz

      Too cute! I’m seriously hoping he’s not a jerk… My only complain is that this post is too short lol. I’m a fool for love stories.

  30. Karen Buchanan

    Writing practice (15 min. tell the story, no editing from https://thewritepractice.com/how-to-write-a-short-story/)

    Gardening technique –
    So, we lived in Texas where it’s really hot, and I wanted to grow a great garden. We had access to a lot of land so we could grow a lot of food, really nutritious food that would cost me very little. So I sat down with my adult daughter, Frances, and went over all the different ways to plant that I had used, tried, or read about and thought had merit: square foot gardening, french intensive planting, raised beds, mulch. And we started a garden. First seedlings, because we wanted to get started right away. I bought cheap seeds, some that I could only get at higher prices, and a few I really wanted to try but never had. I usually try a few new ones each year. I tried just one new one a year, but I’m too impatient for that; I want to see them all now. And I want to save the money those unusual colors, varieties, or fruits/veggies cost at the store, or even Farmer’s Market. So I let each kid who’s interested pick what they want to grow and they usually want to try something new, too. So I get several new ones without having to do the intensive learning for a new thing all by myself. I even let them have their own gardens, sections of mine, or rows if they want. They get excited. I get help. They get invested in their plants, learn new things, and teach me. Or they ask and we learn together. That’s how the most effective way to plant I have ever seen or used came into being. It wasn’t even me. I was the catalyst. Frances put it all together. And we had great results. We grew watermelon in north Texas in the summer. Our neighbor who is an amazing gardener said she had never been able to grow watermelon there. We brought in wheelbarrows full of several varieties of melons that summer.(timer)

    Reply
  31. Shagun Maheshwari

    I wrote a short poem instead today!

    Hollywood, the fantasy world!
    Many of us have grown up watching Bollywood movies and also believing that everything that they show is true. Some things come true and some not.
    Don’t let the world of fantasy take the practicality out of your life! It is indeed funny that most of us, being in younger age, believe all those happy feelings will stay for life long. At times it affects our relationships as things happen to the contrary of our thinking.
    It is best to embrace life as it comes and not live in your fantasy world!

    I thought I will always hang out with those four best friends I had in school.
    But they went their different ways soon after.

    I thought I will always have my friendships intact and always nurturing.
    But all along, I gave them up and made new ones.

    I thought I will find my dream guy in college and live with him happily ever after
    But soon, he told me that I am not who he is looking for.

    I thought people will talk about my flawless love life
    But people did have their apprehensions after all my fights and cries.

    I thought I will go on vacations or parties every weekend
    But later, I myself never wanted to be a part of them.

    I thought I will land up in the best company to work in.
    But the best company never gave me the chance to show my mettle.

    I thought I will always work hard and climb the ladder of success
    But soon I realized that I never wanted to work there.

    I thought my spouse will bring a rose every anniversary of month.
    But we know deadlines are important than anniversaries.

    I thought my days will start with a kiss and end with a kiss
    But aren’t we tired so much for that?

    I thought my partner will leave all work and come when I demand
    But soon I realized the nonsensical part of it.

    I thought my parents will shout at the choice of my partner
    But I was amazed to see them welcome him with open arms.

    I thought my friends will stand by me always
    But they were nowhere to be seen in the vicinity

    I thought the life will be all riches and luxuries
    But I soon got drowned in debts and loans from friends and banks.

    I thought my father will cuddle my cheeks when I go out to work
    But he always left for his work in a hurry.

    I thought of meeting my friends and singing songs all night
    But I myself stopped taking those invitations.

    I thought of dancing and swimming all my life.
    But I realized taking care of home is equally important.

    I thought the touch of a man will impregnate me
    But even the kisses failed to reach my heart at times.

    I thought I will get all pleasures of life.
    But I soon realized you have to even give to feel love.

    Reply
    • Ryan Neave

      Hey Shagun. I like the way your semi-poetic story rolls along. I just noticed a few grammar mistakes, but overall I found it to be very raw and honest. Good job!

  32. Ryan Neave

    A restaurant is full of people. It has so many people inside of it, and so much food on their plates. Waiters are running around, almost literally, to make sure their patrons are satisfied. Tons of dialogue is being exchanged, the voices of the workers included, laughter is heard rather continuously, in between them eating.
    Harmony, however does not like this much. He would rather much be eating dinner in the comfort of his own home, then having to endure all of this. He would be doing just that, too, if his friend hadn’t thought of the idea to try out the place, an Italian bistro.
    The two men walk out. “Hey,” his friend says, looking at harmony. “For a guy named harmony, you don’t take much joy in much. That was a good restaurant.” “I agree, he says.”

    Reply
  33. Ryan Neave

    A truck passes by a motel. Less than a minute later, the truck drives into the empty parking lot. A man, as rugged and shady as would expect from a trucker, hops out onto the ground. He then makes his way into the office to get a room. Once he has checked in, the trucker goes to his assigned room. Without taking anything off or putting anything away, he collapses on the bed. He suddenly hears a knock on the door. He opens and not a soul is there. He lays back down and before long the bang is heard once again. The trucker then goes outside, and with a gun in his hand, fires one off into the sky. The motel owner then runs out and wonders what is going on. The trucker explains to the worried tenant that someone is harassing him. The man then explains to the trucker that the screen door often bangs. “Jeez. No wonder people are weary of truckers. You guys don’t waste much time before showing how completely nuts you are, like in the movies!”

    Reply
  34. Rose

    An Evacuee’s Letter Home, One That Never Gets Sent:
    Dear Mummy,
    I don’t understand Mummy, I don’t understand at all. You always used to say I was a good girl, your special little angel. But Mrs Walker says I’m a very, very naughty girl and she hits me, Mummy, right in the face and I don’t like it, I really don’t! You never used to hit me, never ever. And I started crying when she hit me because it hurt, Mummy, it hurt but Mrs Walker said it was what I deserved, and I shouldn’t cry, but I couldn’t help it Mummy, the tears wouldn’t stop, they just wouldn’t!
    And then she shouted at me, but you never shouted at me, and I was scared, so I just cried harder and harder, and she grabbed me, and put a hand around my mouth, holding it shut, and pinched my nose, and I couldn’t breathe, Mummy, and my lungs were bursting, and I wanted to scream, but she was holding my mouth shut, and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down my face, and then it all started to go black, and I couldn’t see anything, and I think I fell asleep but in a really, really bad way, and I thought I was going to die!
    But I know I deserved it, I deserved all of it, Mrs Walker told me so. She said I was a devil, sent from Hell, and I need to be punished, and I was a very, very bad girl. Why did you tell me I was an angel, Mummy? Why did you tell me I was a good girl? Why did you lie to me, Mummy?
    I’m really, really hungry, Mummy, Mrs Walker said devils from Hell shouldn’t get fed and she wasn’t wasting her hard earned money on me. She told me I should have died at birth, and then she wouldn’t have to put up with me. Oh, Mummy, I’m an awful, awful girl, and I deserved to be killed. Why didn’t you kill me, Mummy? You must have known I was from hell, and not an angel. Mrs Walker says you should have just put me out of my misery, and I think so too. Devils shouldn’t live on Earth with all the good people, like Mrs Walker. I know she’s good because she tried to beat the devil out of me, spending her precious time trying to rid me of sin.
    But it didn’t work, Mummy, and now I’m locked in a room, and she hasn’t let me out for ages. I’m really thirsty, Mummy, and really hungry, and I need something to eat, and I’m crying and screaming for someone to let me out but no-one can hear me and – Mummy, please! I don’t think Mrs Walker is coming back! She’s never going to let me out! Mummy, help me!

    Reply
  35. Ryan Neave

    I stayed awake, my eyes not shutting a tad, except for blinking, but even that was rare. This night, I don’t know why I cannot go to bed. I mean I am technically in bed, but I mean actually sleeping. I’m tired, too, yet extremely restless. Don’t you hate that when You really want to do one thing, but Instead a more powerful force is keeping you from doing that and instead causing you to do another? I have gotten up and walked around a couple of times, and still I have not gotten rid of this energy. There were times where I would lay without the urge to get up, or even, god forbid, think. So, I didn’t have really any coffee today, and I did quite a bit of work. Although, I did get to relax a bit more often then usual. I’m doing a whole lot of thinking, and when I think of it, that may be just the deterrent of this situation. Maybe if I stop thinking about why I can’t go to sleep, and actually go to sleep, who knows, maybe I’ll find the answer.

    Reply
  36. Ryan Neave

    A dog keeps barking. The owner has yelled at it several times, begging for silence. He has finally given up. Suddenly, there is a bang on the door. Knowing that it is going to be an upset neighbor, he expects the worse. He opens the door and to his surprise, a man claiming to be homeless asks to come in. He says no to the stranger and practically slams the door in his face. He hears the barking continuing and lets out a scream. He goes outside in his shed and comes out with a shovel. He starts to dig a hole in his backyard. When the hole finally becomes large enough for, say a human, the owner of the unrelenting canine hops in. Once in, he puts his two fingers to his mouth and whistles. In that exact moment, the barking stops, and the dog runs outside to the hole in his owner lays. He begins to bury the man, and does not bark once after that.

    Reply
  37. Rohn Federbush

    Her startled eyes were what he noticed first. Her mouth was open but no words came out. She didn’t need to say how shocked she was, poor thing. Surely raised in the city rutting wasn’t something she’d seen before with animals. Of course her mother’s legs wrapped around his naked torso wasn’t as horrifying as the moans of pleasure emanating from the woman under him. He wanted to stop, pull a blanket over them both; but the fingernails tearing into his back left him out of control. When he came he whispered in her ear, “Your daughter is here.”
    Like a horse throwing a rider she was up and robed in the comforter. He rolled naked off the far side of the bed hooking a pillow to hide his disgraced parts. “Father Damian was helping my aching back.” His errant parishioner said to her innocent eight year old. “Daddy doesn’t need to know, right?’
    Tears had started to wash the child’s face. “You’ll just say I’m lying–like last time,” she said turning away to let them sort out their own justifications.
    Satisfaction held sway; however he dreaded placing the host in the mouth of the child’s first communion.

    Reply
  38. Ahmed Khairy

    this is not actually a story but it’s what comes to my mind now. i’d like you to give me your opinions
    thank u 🙂

    walking along the sea in a mildly cold night, waves roaring in a raging way so intimidating yet so intimate, breeze upheaves wisps of her hair that dangle over her eyes. she was looking at the shiny stars brightening the vast pitch-black sky, and she wandered if it is fate that reunited her with her once-bestfriend earlier today or it is a mere coincidence. like hundreds of miscellaneous events that we encounter all the time. like thousands of faceless people that we pass by every day. but she wasn’t faceless, this one had a face, a one that she knows very well, with her hazel eyes not green not brown but a little bit of both, her dark brown hair that lies over her shoulders and her teeny tiny mouth that almost always smiling.

    staring at the distant stars, she kept running the day’s events in her head. she could swear it was a coincidence cause she never takes this road to her work, she only took it because she had to be somewhere before work. a sheer random act that led to one of the happiest moments she has had in a very long time. yet isn’t that what fate is all about, shaping our life in the least expected way. like when you pump into an old friend just because you took a different road. or when you avoid a catastrophic accident just because you woke up a little late and missed the bus.
    small and insignificant events that mean absolutely nothing on its own yet when put together it turns our life upside down like fate has a mind of it’s own.

    maybe this is how the universe works. maybe the trivial and random coincidences are fate’s way of doing things, like marionettes pulled from high above by strings in the hands of men.

    she closed her eyes and shook her head trying to sweep out these philosophical ideas that will only lead her to question her own existence. she continued to walk along the sea when she found a fish on the shore drifted by the surging waves, flipping, crying helplessly for life. she wandered if it’s by coincidence that she stumbled into this fish or it’s already written in the stars that shine above. she laughed for the idea of the fish having a fate for its own, she knelt down, gently held the fish, gave it a soft assuring kiss then sent it back to where it belongs.

    Reply
    • Ryan Neave

      I think what you have here Ahmed is a very insightful, enjoyable little story. Yes I do think it is a story, that you could elaborate on even more. Nice theme about philosophy.

  39. Rachel Parks

    A cool mist swept in between the shadows of the tall Evergreen wood. The unusual white fog was heavy that night, but stranger things had occurred. I had reached out my hands in hopes to navigate through the air’s density; except, I stumbled upon something below me. It was harder than the soft earth nor was it stiff like the befallen trees. My eyes were eager to uncover what this was under the blinding veil.

    Darkness crept around me, though, my sight was clear. Then, a face emerged from an ethereal light that reflected my own! Again, darkness claimed my vision, but faded into a transparent and blurry glow.

    Reply
  40. Montse F

    A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods. What does she/he do?
    Peter ran out fo the house as fast as he could, he needed that break, a break of his monotonous life and the constant mother and father disputes, he couldn’t tolerate anymore their same complaints about their same old stuff, he could barely imagine what do you have to pass through to fall completely out of love with a person that used to be your partner and best friend. It hurt him immensely, but barely their parents could see that, they were mainly focus in hurting each other.
    He was not thinking properly when by apparently hitting a rock he felt hard on the floor, he cried out in pain as his knee was bleeding badly, he coursed several times out loud, but when he turned around to see what was the cause of his physical suffering he lost his breathe, he was unsure if what he was seeing was real, if the girl on the floor was real, if the blood on her chest was real, if all the blood, the dirt the mess, her beauty were real; in fact everything seemed so unreal that he thought he might be sleeping, but unfortunately not he was not sleeping, the pain in his knee reminded him it was completely real, he thought about running and avoid getting involved in what apparently was a horrible murder case, however, betrayed by his curiosity, he turned around and slowly reached the girl’s face, carefully he took out his silver hair from her face.
    He was shocked about this particularity, he had never seen a girl sharing his same characteristic, the one who make him so unique, his silver hair, he was so proud of it, even though he didn’t know where did his genetics went wrong as his both parents have brown hair, but this girl, she was special too, she, in the middle of leaves, blood and chaos she had the same silver bright hair, thin and soft as cotton, mesmerised by this fact, suddenly, his heart almost froze, in discomfort she spoke, she wasn’t dead, just badly badly injured. Peter couldn’t believe his eyes, she was moving slowly and mumbling incomprehensible words, he couldn’t take her home, their parents will be asking a million questions and he was not ready for this, in fact, he didn’t want to share this secret. He was feeling he could finally do something of his own and help this strange beautiful silver hair girl, but he had to react fast, she was dying, that was a fact.

    Reply
  41. M.C

    Betty was sitting in her front yard as usual coloring. She was only 5 at the time and lived in a little white house with a old red wooden fence on Maple street. The fence flung open, and standing there was Robby. “Ugh, it’s Robby again..” Betty thought was she continued to color. Robby was Betty’s mom’s best friend’s son. He was over a lot, scene Betty’s mom watched him when his mom was at work. The gate slammed shut and Robby walked over to Betty and without a word he started spiting saliva all over Betty’s coloring book. Betty screamed! Yet again Robby had destroyed another piece of her art. Robby knowing that Betty’s mom would soon be out to scold him, ran out the old red gate and around the corner. Betty still screaming was confused when she saw Robby come back with a little red Rose.

    “Betty!” The man said with a loud tone, to make sure that she could her. Betty was knocked out of her daydream. “Www-what did you say?” She stumbled to get the words out. The man looked at her and with a strong, confident voice he said “I said, will you make me the happiest man in the world, and be my wife?”. As a smile swept Betty’s face she told him “Has long as you promise not to drool on my coloring books. Of course, I will!”. Robby Laughed, as he pulled out a little red Rose and slips a ring on her finger.

    Reply
  42. Heather Nagy

    Sooooo… This is the first I’ve written in years. This post gave me some direction and this is where it went.

    Aria longed for adventure, so much so that she had put herself in many precarious situations throughout the years. Each time she read a book she found herself “sucked in” as it were, drawn to the fantasy so much that she could barely tell the fantasy from reality.
    One day, while walking home from school she found herself in such a precarious situation. She decided that the normal path through the park was beautiful but just too dull for her tastes and so she chose to delete it from her mind. Wandering this way and that, albeit in an otherwise north western direction, she stumbled upon fallen logs, moss covered trees, and toadstools she could almost see tiny fairies flittering from. These tiny fairies took shape in her mind’s eye and called to her, beckoning her to join their fantastical world of wonder and delight. She brought herself to the now. So often had she hoped and dreamed to be sucked in to such a magnificent fairy tale and each time she wasn’t she became a little less heartened. A little less innocent, a little less herself she felt. “Delusions…” she told herself this time. “Nothing more than petty childhood dramas and fairy tales.”. Disappointed once again she continued her way to the north-west, still marveling at nature’s magnificence. She saw here wonder and brilliance and majesty. She prayed as she walked for some sort of direction. Little did she know that she would stumble upon direction in the cruelest of ways before long.
    Aria had almost come to the edge of a clearing, one of which she imagined mystical unicorns, rainbows, and leprechauns. How naïve. How wonderfully naïve she was. Just as she was clearing some brush and taking another step she found her stride pardoned. Not a stumble, not a squish, but rather a misplaced footing of an odd nature in such a landscape. Looking to her feet she expected to see some form of roots to trip over or some disheartening garbage to ruin the scenery. But no, and once she looked down she wished she had seen such. Before her feet, surrounding her in fact, was a body. A cold pale, rotting corpse of which only appears in horror flicks. She didn’t scream; she didn’t believe what she was seeing. So lost in fairy tale fantasy was she that the upended bones and wasted face seemed some plot line in an epic adventure to her. Moments passed and she dared not move. Fleeting moments occurred to her in which the corpse became animated and reached for her, pulling her down into some dark and dank abyss that would become her grave. But she stayed herself. She waited for the long impending doom that usually accompanied others in horror flicks. “Soon some serial killer will appear out of the woods” she told herself “I will run to the clearing calling for help and the killer will silent me with a quick slash to my throat”. But none of that came. All that she heard was the sounds of birds chirping, of insects buzzing, and of her heart beating.
    After what seemed an eternity, although only a minute or so, Aria realized what she had come upon fully, and the heavy weight of mortality crushed upon her. Sorrow filled her heart, and duty called to her. Carefully, so as to not disturb the poor soul who rested here, she took a few steps backward, took out her phone, and dialed 911.

    Reply
  43. H.L.Millen

    Heather longed for adventure, so much so that she had put herself in many precarious situations throughout the years. Each time she read a book she found herself “sucked in” as it were, drawn to the fantasy so much that she could barely tell the fantasy from reality.
    One day, while walking home from school she found herself in such a precarious situation. She decided that the normal path through the park was beautiful but just too dull for her tastes and so she chose to delete it from her mind. Wandering this way and that, albeit in an otherwise north western direction, she stumbled upon fallen logs, moss covered trees, and toadstools she could almost see tiny fairies flittering from. These tiny fairies took shape in her mind’s eye and called to her, beckoning her to join their fantastical world of wonder and delight. She brought herself to the now. So often had she hoped and dreamed to be sucked in to such a magnificent fairy tale and each time she wasn’t she became a little less heartened. A little less innocent, a little less herself she felt. “Delusions…” she told herself this time. “Nothing more than petty childhood dramas and fairy tales.”. Disappointed once again she continued her way to the north-west, still marveling at nature’s magnificence. She saw here wonder and brilliance and majesty. She prayed as she walked for some sort of direction. Little did she know that she would stumble upon direction in the cruelest of ways before long.
    Heather had almost come to the edge of a clearing, one of which she imagined mystical unicorns, rainbows, and leprechauns. How naïve. How wonderfully naïve she was. Just as she was clearing some brush and taking another step she found her stride pardoned. Not a stumble, not a squish, but rather a misplaced footing of an odd nature in such a landscape. Looking to her feet she expected to see some form of roots to trip over or some disheartening garbage to ruin the scenery. But no, and once she looked down she wished she had seen such. Before her feet, surrounding her in fact, was a body. A cold pale, rotting corpse of which only appears in horror flicks. She didn’t scream; she didn’t believe what she was seeing. So lost in fairy tale fantasy was she that the upended bones and wasted face seemed some plot line in an epic adventure to her. Moments passed and she dared not move. Fleeting moments occurred to her in which the corpse became animated and reached for her, pulling her down into some dark and dank abyss that would become her grave. But she stayed herself. She waited for the long impending doom that usually accompanied others in horror flicks. “Soon some serial killer will appear out of the woods” she told herself “I will run to the clearing calling for help and the killer will silent me with a quick slash to my throat”. But none of that came. All that she heard was the sounds of birds chirping, of insects buzzing, and of her heart beating.
    After what seemed an eternity, although only a minute or so, Heather realized what she had come upon fully, and the heavy weight of mortality crushed upon her. Sorrow filled her heart, and duty called to her. Carefully, so as to not disturb the poor soul who rested here, she took a few steps backward, took out her phone, and dialed 911.

    Reply
  44. Jessica

    “Get out.”
    Those were the last words my mother ever spoke to me. They perfectly summarized out relationship. I would have found it poetic at the time, if I wasn’t so enraged. Some people use that term loosely, but I’m not one of them. On a day-to-day basis I get angry pretty regularly, say if someone at work uses the shared microwave to warm up their gross leftover fish, or if I get cut off in traffic because some jerk thinks his schedule is more important than anyone else in the world. That level of anger happens pretty often, to almost anybody, but this was something different. This was a white hot emotion, seething inside me, in my stomach, in my chest, in my head. A fire demanding to be let out, to be heard.
    I let my anger have its way. I slapped her across the face, hard. She fell in an almost comical way, the way that would make you chuckle if it was shown in an old-timey cartoon. Her head jerked to the side as the back of my hand made contact with her cheek, her legs gave out, and her face was coated in shock. Her surprise was understandable, as the people who have the nerve to strike their mothers are usually terrible, and that was not a word anyone had ever used to describe me. I was a good kid. That’s how my parents described me to their insufferable friends when first introducing me, that’s how my teachers felt about me throughout grade school, and that was the image I had maintained throughout my life. Until this moment that is, but that’s besides the point. Ellie Manning was a good kid. And good kids don’t slap their mothers.
    I didn’t check to see if she was okay. I didn’t even look at her. She had told me to get out, and that’s what I was going to do. After all good kids always listened to their mothers.

    Reply
    • Jerome Atugonza .Y

      great piece

    • V Kow

      I love this piece. I really don’t have anything for you to improve… Are you going to add to it? I would love to see more!

    • Rico Elhady

      Beautiful written. Story flows. The reader feels and is in the shoe of the character. Perfect.

    • Jorge Christakos

      Powerful moment clearly depicted! Esp. enjoyed your description and comparison of the character’s anger at the moment of the slap. Also thought your development of the conflict between her self-image and her action creates a nice dynamic. Would love to see what led up to the conflict and what happens next!

  45. Ubai

    Anna wanted to be away from everything. Her boss, her family, her friends all seemed to annoy her lately. Her fist clenched to the point of her long nails going into the palm of her hands she controlled all the words that were ready to come out of her mouth. Smith, her boss of ten years has become unbearable. All he wants to do his get on her nerves. Her quite response to his yakking this morning was, “I will see what I can do.”

    She was about to slam the Alan J. Smith etched glass door, but controlling herself and letting all her will power drain, she gently shut it as she turned her back toward him and left. Oh… she wanted to beat him to death.

    Not bothering to go to her desk she dashed out of the office and ran down the twelve stories into Fifth Avenue. The bitter cold was freezing her tears as they were falling from her hazel eyes. “Help… help… help” she was whispering to herself, reaching out to her rational soul. Her tears freezing over each other, she kept walking and panting. She felt like throwing up, but was afraid her heart would come out.

    Anna stopped in her tracks in the middle of the crossing at Fifth and 22nd unaware of the screeching and honking of the yellow cab. She looked up. Blinded by the clear winter sun and dizzy from the running she knew she was losing control. The tunnel she was seeing was dark and narrow. What was happening to her, she panicked. “I am getting a heart attack,” she tried voice but nothing came out of her mouth.

    She opened her eyes. Where was she? Who was the handsome young man looking at her?

    Reply
  46. Jerome Atugonza .Y

    I HAVE NO REGRETS FOR LEAVING MY PARENTS.

    Staying in a comfort zone is like eating honey and drinking milk without ceasing. I would do it for the rest of my life. In late December last year, i got an excuse to leave the comfort fortress of my parents. I felt my ever increasing age was demanding for my resilience to be tested in perhaps my own apartment or a foreign land. Thank God, an internship placement with a media house knocked right at my door.

    I could not think twice about changing my mind. My parents have been a loving family that want the best for their children. I experienced all types of thoughts that were provoking me to cancel the opportunity. Thoughts like i don’t know anyone in Rwanda, will i eat food to my full like i do at home?, will i have money to buy all that i crave for? not forgetting this small country is not a English country but rather the natives speak french and Kinyarwada.

    First forward am in Kigali right now being the taught the basics of journalism and media in this nation. Nevertheless, am proud that i have managed to get along with the few friends i have met and interacted with. The Local communities have been an eye opening to me, as i have managed to blend in and try to learn the few local dialects.

    That aside am contented with the decision i made to travel thousands of miles away from Uganda to experience all whole new breed of people and the environment. this has given me a sensational mood that i can stand with Christ by my side to help me overcome an threat

    Reply
  47. Ryan Neave

    A bird gets hit by a beer can. This drunk man, sitting on his front lawn is throwing them as he empties the alcohol out of them. Joey, the much younger, not to mention much more responsible paper boy, stops his bike as he passes by and explains how he has heard it is illegal to have an open container outside. Yet, even though he acknowledges what the adult is doing is wrong, he cannot so easily dismiss the impressiveness of him hitting that bird with that can. He explains how, especially considering the fact that he is drunk, that being able to hit a bird with that can is like finding a needle in a haystack. “its like trying to catch a squirrel, or being able to smack a fly with your bare hand.” To prove his point, Joey spots a squirrel and runs for it. After running around like a mad man, Joey is unsuccessful in even getting remotely close to the animal. The drunk man then belches exceptionally loud. Suddenly, he then spots a fly on his arm, probally attracted to the beer scent spilled on his arm. then, without hesitation, he smacks the bug, killing it immediately.

    Reply
  48. Ryan Neave

    Waiting to get on the train, A business gentleman reads the paper, quietly. There are no sounds at all; no people at all. Only the occasional train passing by, making the usual massive sound is pretty much all that is heard around this station. The man looks around, and even though he is enjoying this peacefulness immensely, he finds it rather too good to be true. He then returns to his reading. Suddenly, he does hear something quite nerve-racking. A little kid begins to run amok the station, yelling maniacally, with his mother following close behind. The dad starts to yell at his wife for chasing him around, and then they start to argue, with the young child still carrying on. The security guard then comes up the stares, and talks to the parents, wondering what’s going on. Suddenly, there is a loud thud, and the kid begins to cry as loud as he was screaming. The man is extremely annoyed. He thought he has gotten lucky, for this trip of his has been quite painless up to this point. He did speak way too soon. The train then arrives, and the business man, along with the small family gets on board with him.

    Reply
  49. constantly tired bitch

    I opened my eyes and realized I was still alive. “Fuck!” I exclaimed; then I fell asleep again.

    THE FUCKING END

    Reply
  50. constantly tired bitch

    Harambe wept.

    Reply
  51. constantly tired bitch

    I murder the dick, I bury the dick then I resurrect the dick.

    Reply
  52. constantly tired bitch

    I punch Nazis for a living.

    Reply
  53. Rob Hunt

    p { margin-bottom: 0.25cm; line-height: 120%; }

    The
    Edge

    Thaddeus
    slammed the brakes of his Prius and gunned the accelerator at the
    same time out of the total confusion and panic that whipped at
    his mind. His
    car side swiped violently before coming to a stop. A great cloud of
    brown dust ballooned up and out to the vast emptiness where the
    rest of highway 36 had been and as
    it rose higher dispersing as it went, where the rest of Muncie had
    been and as
    Thad gaped in disbelief, where the
    state of Indiana was meant to
    be. Shakily removing the seat belt he slowly got out of the car. He
    walked on rubbery
    legs for a few meters before halting at the edge of the void where
    the rest of the Northern hemisphere had once seen fit to stretch
    out. Now there was nothing. He peered directly over the edge and down
    as far as the eye could see. There was much to see with the naked eye
    but his mind was not handling the information very well, feeling as
    it did suddenly naked and without the proper filters to receive such
    undiluted reality. He shuffled back to his car and slowly collapsed
    to his knees against the drivers door. ‘ Oh dear God’ he uttered
    feeling like he might retch out of fear and shock.

    Deep
    blue sky above and now behind remained studiously ignored as he drove
    back to the house hoping that it and his wife and daughter were still
    there and not simply vanished with the rest of Illinois. So far so
    good and he could see that his cousin Mark was still on earth as he
    his car, a Ford pick-up, was in the driveway. Thad’s
    mouth felt dry and he still felt a little shaky but as he slotted his
    key into
    the lock he began
    to wonder if he really had seen that impossible sight. After all it
    was
    impossible. How could the
    world still turn with a quarter of itself missing? The
    answer of course was that it cant. Entering
    into his sitting room, he speculated that it may be a common
    psychological phenomenon connected with sleep deprivation; and oh boy
    had he got that by the truckload. Working for ones father in law had
    its major downside. He was about to wonder if Mr Renwick Sr and owner
    of Aluminium fittings Inc. might have vanished into a massive sink
    hole in Springfield, when
    sounds from upstairs halted his thoughts. He had
    more reason to feel shaky and sick now. The new bed they had picked
    out a month ago was clearly being tested for its durability. The
    acoustics of the house were still working fine as always. They
    normally snitched on him on unguarded moments of spleen venting or
    cussing over the utility bills one Christmas when both his in-laws
    came for dinner. It had taken him a week to realise why the meal had
    been consumed in near silence. Now the house snitched on his wife and
    her lover.

    Reply
  54. Rob Hunt

    This as far as I got in fifteen minutes

    The Edge

    Thaddeus slammed the brakes of his Pontiac and gunned the accelerator at the same time. Total confusion and panic that whipped at his mind. His car side swiped violently before coming to a stop. A great cloud of brown dust ballooned up and out to the vast emptiness where the rest of highway 36 had been and as it rose higher dispersing as it went, where the rest of Muncie had
    been and as Thad gaped in disbelief, where the state of Indiana was meant to be. Shakily removing the seat belt he slowly got out of the car. He walked on rubbery legs for a few meters before halting at the edge of the void where the rest of the Northern hemisphere had once seen fit to stretch out. Now there was nothing. He peered directly over the edge and down as far as the eye could see. There was much to see with the naked eye but his mind was not handling the information very well, feeling as it did suddenly naked and without the proper filters to receive such undiluted reality. He shuffled back to his car and slowly collapsed to his knees against the drivers door. ‘ Oh dear God’ he uttered feeling like he might retch out of fear and shock.

    Deep blue sky above and now behind remained studiously ignored as he drove back to the house hoping that it and his wife and daughter were still there and not simply vanished with the rest of Illinois. So far so good and he could see that his cousin Mark was still on earth as he
    his car, a Ford pick-up, was in the driveway. Thad’s mouth felt dry and he still felt a little shaky but as he slotted his key into the lock he began to wonder if he really had seen that impossible sight. After all it was impossible. How could the world still turn with a quarter of itself missing? The
    answer of course was that it cant. Entering into his sitting room, he speculated that it may be a common psychological phenomenon connected with sleep deprivation; and oh boy
    had he got that by the truckload. Working for ones father in law had its major downside. He was about to wonder if Mr Renwick Sr and owner of Aluminium fittings Inc. might have vanished into a massive sink-hole in Springfield, when from upstairs halted his thoughts. He had more reason to feel shaky and sick now. The new bed they had picked out a month ago was clearly being tested for its durability. The acoustics of the house were still working fine as always. They normally snitched on him on unguarded moments of spleen venting or cussing over the utility bills one Christmas when both his in-laws came for dinner. It had taken him a week to realise why the meal had been consumed in near silence. Now the house snitched on his wife and
    her lover.

    Reply
  55. Rob Hunt

    Hey, my posts have been marked as Spam!!

    Reply
    • Rob Hunt

      As far as I got in fifteen minutes
      The
      Edge

      Thaddeus slammed the brakes of his Pontiac and gunned the accelerator at the same time. Total confusion and panic whipped at his mind. His car side swiped violently to a
      stop. A great cloud of brown dust ballooned up and out to the vast emptiness where the rest of highway 36 had been and as it rose higher dispersing as it went, where the rest of Muncie had been and as Thad gaped in disbelief, where the state of Indiana was meant to be.Shakily removing the seat belt he slowly got out of the car. He walked on rubbery legs for a few meters before halting at the edge of the void where the rest of the Northern hemisphere had once seen fit to stretch out. Now there was nothing. He peered directly over the edge and down as far as the eye could see. He saw far and he saw much
      but his mind was not handling the information very well. He shuffled back to his car and slowly collapsed to his knees against the drivers door. ‘ Oh dear God’ he uttered feeling like he might retch out of fear and shock.

      Deep blue sky above and now behind remained studiously ignored as he drove back to the house hoping that it and his wife and daughter were still there and not simply vanished with the rest of Illinois. An hour later and the wide porch and steep
      gables of his home greeted him. So far so good and he could see that his cousin Mark was still on earth as that was his silver Prius that was parked in the driveway. Thad’s mouth felt dry and he still felt a little shaky as he approached his front door. But, as he slotted his key into the lock he began to wonder if he really had seen that
      impossible sight. After all it was impossible. How could the world still turn with a quarter of itself missing?. Entering into his sitting room, he speculated that it may be a common psychological phenomenon connected with sleep deprivation; and oh boy had he got
      that by the truckload. Working for ones father in law had its major downside. He was about to wonder if Mr Renwick Sr and owner of Aluminium fittings Inc. might have vanished into a massive sink hole in Springfield, when sounds from upstairs halted his thoughts. He had more reason to feel shaky and sick now. The new bed they had picked
      out a month ago was clearly being tested for its durability. The acoustics of the house were still working fine as always. They normally snitched on him in unguarded moments. Sometimes he felt the need to vent his spleen over the utility bills or cuss the neighbours
      generally. It meant that the neighbours and the electric company probably heard him. One Christmas dinner had been spent in near total silence with the in-laws because according to karen the phrase “Fucken tight-wad” really carried. Now the house snitched on his wife and her lover.

  56. Rob Hunt

    This is as far as I got n 15 mins.
    The Edge

    Thaddeus
    slammed the breaks and gunned the accelerator of his Pontiac at the
    same time. Total confusion and panic whipped at his mind. The car
    side-swiped violently before coming to a halt. A great cloud of brown
    dust ballooned up and out over where the rest of highway 36 had been. As
    it rose higher dispersing as it went, over where Muncie was meant to be
    and as Thad gaped, where the state of Indiana was meant to be. Shaky
    hands released the seat belt and he very slowly got out of the car. He
    walked on rubbery legs for a few yards before stopping a foot from the
    edge of the void where the rest of the Northern hemisphere had once seen
    fit to stretch out. Now there was nothing. He risked a peak over the
    edge. He saw far and he saw much but his mind was not coping with the
    information. He shuffled back to the car and collapsed to his knees by
    the drivers door. ‘ Oh, dear God ‘ he muttered feeling like he might
    retch out of fear and shock.

    Deep blue sky above him and now
    behind him remained studiously ignored as he drove back. He hoped that
    his wife and daughter were still there and that Illinois had not
    suddenly vanished too. An hour later and the wide porch and steep
    gables of his home beckoned to him. So far so good. His cousin Mark was
    also still on earth, as that was his silver Prius in the drive. Thad’s
    mouth felt dry and he was still a little shaken up as reached the front
    door. But as he slotted the key into the lock. but he began to doubt.
    Had he really seen that impossible sight? It was after all impossible.
    How could the world still turn with a quarter of itself missing. The
    answer of course was, it couldn’t. Entering into his sitting room he
    speculated that it might even be a common psychological phenomenon
    connected with sleep deprivation. Oh boy had he caught a truck load of
    that. Working for ones father-in-law had a major downside. He now
    wondered if Mr Fenwick Sr and owner of Aluminium Fittings Inc had
    vanished into a giant sink hole in Springfield. Sounds from upstairs
    broke into his thoughts however. He had another reason to feel shaky and
    sick now. The bed that they had picked out a month ago was obviously
    being tested for its durability. Also Karen and Mark’s appreciation of
    this fact could be heard clearly. The odd acoustics of this old house
    were at least still working fine. They normally snitched on him in unguarded
    moments. He sometimes had to vent his spleen over the utility bills and
    cuss the neighbours in general. One Christmas dinner had been near total
    silence with both his in-laws because according to Karen, the
    phrase ” fucken tight-wad” really carries. Now the house snitched on his
    wife and his lover.

    Reply
  57. 1ssyv00

    A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods. What does she/he do?

    Sheila tiptoed through the mush of dead leaves, trying to maintain her balance, looking for the stick.
    “That damned dog,” she thought. “He’ll be the death of me.”
    Jett was away to the left, snuffling around.
    Suddenly she was upon it.
    The eyes met hers. Shock ran through her body. The air around froze. She was gulping in great chunks of air. Somewhere there was barking. She looked away. Perhaps there was something to distract her in the distance. She looked back, taking it in.
    The man was old. Wrapped in a worn greatcoat. His arms across his chest as if resting. The face was white, parched. Wisps of hair lay across his head.
    “Jett!”
    The dog bounded over and immediately began nosing the corpse. Because this was a dead body. The realisation hit and her legs wobbled. She grabbed the dog by the collar to pull him away and to steady herself.
    Sheila never brought her mobile with her in the morning. This was her time.

    Reply
  58. Heather

    I stared from behind the front seats of our family car out through the dirty windshield. A short woman stood in front of my Daddy, shouting at him as he screamed back at her. Daddy’s face was so red. He held my baby sister tightly as the lady reached out to take her from him. My little brother sat beside me, sniffling, trying to hide behind the passenger seat. When I saw tears start to slide down Daddy’s face my heart began to pound. I could hear it hammering in my ears. I saw Daddy’s shoulders slump. He shoved my sister into the woman’s arms and ran back to the house, disappearing through the front door. The lady rushed off to her car and put my sister into it. She came back to us and opened our back door.
    “Come on kids, you’re coming with me,” came the stranger’s voice. I jerked my eyes around to look for my Daddy. He hadn’t come back out of the house. Why was this woman taking us? Why was Daddy letting her? I looked back to my little brother who was now looking back at me, eyes wide and watery.
    “Come on, let’s go,” she said more urgently. Her eyes also darted to the front of the house, then back to my brother. She put her hand out towards him. He waited to see what I would do. I nodded at him, not sure what else I could do. He put his tiny hand into hers and followed her to her car. I slid across the back seat, my leg shaky as I stepped out onto the soft grass. Tears started to sneak down my cheeks, but I swiped them away. It would do no good to cry. It never did. I made my way to her car and followed my brother into the backseat. The lady locked my door and shut it with a loud slam. She rushed into the driver’s seat and gave a second loud slam, then slapped the lock down into place. The engine roared to life. My brother and I twisted around in our seats to stare out the back window. Daddy finally came running out of the house, and I felt a moment of hope. But he stopped at the end of our yard, tears falling freely down his face. He just stood there, with his hands over his mouth, looking so sad.
    “Daddy!” I cried, as the car jerked forward, pulling away. He got smaller and smaller as my heart broke more and more. I choked on the sob that felt stuck in my throat and slumped back down into my seat.
    “Where are you taking us?” I asked, just above a whisper.
    “You’re going to stay with a foster family for a little while,” came her reply. I wondered what a foster family was, and what was wrong with the family I already had. I reached over to hug my brother who looked so small and scared.
    “It’s O.K.” I said, in a braver voice than I felt. I forced out a little smile, the dried tears making my cheeks feel tight. “I’ll take care of you.”

    Reply
  59. Rob Hunt

    This is as far as I got n 15 mins.
    The Edge

    Thaddeus slammed the breaks and gunned the accelerator of his Pontiac at the
    same time. Total confusion and panic whipped at his mind. The car
    side-swiped violently to a halt. A great cloud of brown
    dust ballooned up and out over where the rest of highway 36 had been. As
    it rose higher dispersing as it went, over where Muncie was meant to be
    and as Thad gaped, where the state of Indiana was meant to be. Shaky
    hands released the seat belt and he very slowly got out of the car. He
    walked on rubbery legs for a few yards before stopping a foot from the
    edge of the void where the rest of the Northern hemisphere had once seen
    fit to stretch out. Now there was nothing. He risked a peak over the
    edge. He saw far and he saw much but his mind was not coping with the
    information. He shuffled back to the car and collapsed to his knees by
    the drivers door. ‘ Oh, dear God ‘ he muttered feeling like he might
    retch out of fear and shock.

    Deep blue sky above him and now
    behind him remained studiously ignored as he drove back. He hoped that
    his wife and daughter were still there and that Illinois had not
    suddenly vanished too. An hour later and the wide porch and steep
    gables of his home beckoned to him. So far so good. His cousin Mark was
    also still on earth, as that was his silver Prius in the drive. Thad’s
    mouth felt dry and he was still a little shaken up as reached the front
    door. But as he slotted the key into the lock, he began to doubt.
    Had he really seen that impossible sight? It was after all impossible.
    How could the world still turn with a quarter of itself missing. The
    answer of course was, it couldn’t. Entering into his sitting room he
    speculated that it might even be a common psychological phenomenon
    connected with sleep deprivation; had he ever caught a truck load of
    that. Working for ones father-in-law had a major downside. He now
    wondered if Mr Fenwick Sr and owner of Aluminium Fittings Inc had
    vanished into a giant sink hole in Springfield. Sounds from upstairs
    broke into his thoughts however. He had another reason to feel shaky and
    sick now. The bed that they had picked out a month ago was obviously
    being tested for its durability. Also Karen and Mark’s appreciation of
    this fact could be heard clearly. The odd acoustics of this old house
    were at least still working fine. They normally snitched on him in unguarded
    moments. He sometimes had to vent his spleen over the utility bills and
    cuss
    the neighbours in general. It meant that the neighbours and the
    electric company probably heard him. One Christmas dinner had been near
    total silence with both his in-laws because according to Karen, the
    phrase ” fucken tight-wad” really carries. Now the house snitched on his
    wife and her lover

    Reply
  60. Lewis

    This is really a draft–just stream of consciousness:

    Mary stumbled across the corpse, literally. Her dachshund, Davenport, pulled her off the path and into the woods and she indulged him. She always indulged him. Unlike her boyfriend Harold whom she tried never to indulge because he was always trying to lead her astray, or so she thought. Strangely, Davenport ran right past the body. Maybe because it was so fresh. It looked like it had hardly stopped breathing. A man about Mary’s own age, she guessed. Davenport, stop. She called and yanked on the leash. He yelped in surprise, not being accustomed to being yanked on. Now the corpse had hi attention and he started nuzzling its face and hands, then under its arms. What shal I do Mary asked aloud. I don’t think I want any part of this situation, but here I am. She turned abruptly and headed to home, pulling on Davenport’s leash again and getting the same surprised Yelp. Mary doesn’t tell anyone about the body. She reads the paper and watches the news looking for some mention of a man who’s gone missing, but there’s not a word. How could he be unmissed? At last she goes back along the trail to see if he’s still there. Maybe she was fooling herself. He is there, but he doesn’t look so nice anymore. Flies have landed on his skin and laid their eggs and his leg looks like something gnawed at it. Nothing very big, but still. The path is on private property belonging to the rich people in town who run the tourist busses and fourteen tshirt shops. It’s a beach town after all and that’s how they make their livings. Now it’s winter and there are no tourists. It turns out that the dead man is the son of the rich man’s wife. She killed him because he was going to bring disgrace on the family because of his having spent thousands on trying to produce a hither to unknown screenplay by Tennessee Wiliams. Williams had died in ***, but Mike claimed to have found the work in an antique store in an old chest of drawers. Only it turns out the screenplay is a fake. Mike wrote it trying to mimic Williams’ style after watching Streetcar seventeen times locked away in his room. The mother has to hide the scandal from her husband who never liked Mike from the day he was born. Even implied he wasn’t his son. And she wasn’t sure herself. But she knew she was his mother and that was all that mattered. She didn’t mean to kill him. She met him out here to talk some sense into him, persuade him to leave town. When he refused, she vented her frustration by beating on his chest. He laughed. Then she took him by the ears and pushed him backwards down the hill. He fell and lay still. Oh well, she said. I guess that’s how it has to be. She hit him hard right above his left eye with a stone, then took his cell phone and smashed it on another rock, taking all the money and his wallet out of his pocket. By the time they found him…

    Reply
    • Rob Hunt

      I like this as it seems Mary is imagining all that has happened while looking at the body. I like the use of the dog tugging on the leash. That is nicely timed in my opinion.

    • Rob Hunt

      Murderers in
      the Woods

      He was going to do it and he was doing it today. He
      knew Martin would be somewhere around the park if not on the trim track that went through the woods. He was sure that his mums former boyfriend would be there and around ten am on a Thursday. It was an observation among many over the the last six months. Six months of tracking and lets face it stalking the
      guy like a deer, had found pay dirt. Darren was already at the the
      southern edge of forty six square miles of parkland. He, unlike many
      of the people who came through here, had brought a Colt 45 pistol. A
      1911 to be exact plus twenty cartridges. It was a souvenir brought
      back by his late father when life in the Far East had been exceptionally hazardous to all. Darren planned to be as dangerous to Martin Johnson, the prick. He had made his mother sorry that she was alive. Martin would be in the throws of deep regret if he had anything to do with it. He walked parallel to one of the meandering
      dirt paths heading North. He kept a distance of a few yards stopping
      to listen here and there for any movement. Martin would be punctually
      heading West in twenty minutes a hundred yards or so distant. Darren
      needed to be in good cover before then and without anyone else on the
      track to notice him. He gripped the gun inside the right pocket of
      his olive coloured army surplus jacket. Its weight reassured and
      frightened him. He was really going to kill someone. He would be a
      murderer. People like Martin turned others into killers because there
      are no laws against someone being an arsehole. Darren was forced to
      assume the role of judge and he would be the gallows and Lord how
      Martin would swing. The oxygen thief had sunk his last avocado
      smoothie. He stopped again listening. Only the sounds of the sparrows
      and the wind in the trees that heaved and yawed unsteady in the
      easterly wind getting up to cause mischief later in the afternoon if
      the report was anything to go by. He stopped as soon as he started
      again. He noticed stillness of the body first, then how the body lay
      on its back and then the awkward angle of the limbs. In the tall
      grass near a clearing, a man possibly in his sixties lay staring up
      at the sky. Hesitantly Darren moved forward to see for sure. He saw
      the open but blank staring eyes and now the gaping mouth. A heart a
      attack perhaps?. Probably more common that one would think especially
      for men over fifty doing exercise in the woods. Darren peered closer.
      A large gash in the man’s neck had let a great deal of blood to soak
      the ground. Not a heart attack. Darren suddenly felt queasy. Then to
      his right, roughly ten yards away two women bounced along jogging and
      chatting breathlessly. Darren needed to get out of here asap but the
      women had seen him and had slowed. Possibly from the look on his
      face; one could always read his face according to his aunt , they
      stopped their talk and walked hesitantly before seeing the body too.
      ‘ Um……I think…..Darren stammered but the women were quick in
      reaction and one brought out her phone and waited for a connection
      as she and her friend looked at from the body to Darren and back
      again. Darren felt panic start to overtake the sick feeling as he
      felt the gun still pressing into his hand.

  61. Naomi Owens

    A young man/woman stumbles across a dead body in the woods

    Reply
  62. Naomi Owens

    Eliot Fonder gasps when he peers down at the corpse of a young woman. ‘Who was she? and does she have any family?’ were the two pressing questions that consumed his mind. ‘Well, I can’t just leave her here. If she has a family they will want to know what has become of her.’
    So the young man reached down to pick up her small bodily frame and ran. He ran. And he was fast. Running happened to be a hobby of his, as well as a lifestyle. He came upon the highway where he stuck his thumb out to signal that he needed to hitch a ride into the nearest town.
    An older man,in his 60’s, scruffy, with compassionate green eyes pulled over to the side of the road in an old beat up green ford truck. “Do you need some help son?”
    “Yes. I found this woman’s body just ten minutes ago in the forest over there.” Eliot pointed across the road. “I don’t know what happened or how long she has been dead but I need to get to the sheriff’s station.”
    “Of course. Put her body in the back and I’ll drive you over there right now.”

    Reply
  63. Rob Hunt

    He was going to do it and he was doing it today. He knew
    Martin would be somewhere around the park if not on the trim track that went through the woods. He was sure that his mums former boyfriend would be there and around ten am
    on a Thursday. It was an observation among many over the the last six
    months. Six months of tracking and lets face it stalking the guy like
    a deer. Darren was already at the the southern edge of forty six
    square miles of parkland. Sixty percent of which was covered in
    trees. He, unlike many of the people who came through here, had
    brought a Colt 45 pistol. A 1911 to be exact plus twenty cartridges.
    It was a souvenir brought back by his late father when life in the
    Far East had been exceptionally hazardous to all. Darren planned to
    be as dangerous to Martin Johnson, the prick. He had made his mother
    sorry that she was alive. Martin would be in the throws of deep
    regret if he had anything to do with it. He walked parallel to one of
    the meandering dirt paths heading North. He kept a distance of a few
    yards stopping to listen here and there for any movement. He gripped
    the gun inside the right pocket of his olive coloured army surplus
    jacket. Its weight reassured and frightened him. He was going to
    really kill someone. He would be a murderer. People like Martin
    turned others into killers because there are no laws against someone
    being an arsehole. One could not be sent to wing from the gallows
    because being a colossal prick. Darren was forced to assume the role
    of judge and he would be the gallows and Lord how Martin would swing.
    He stopped again listening. Only the sounds of the sparrows and the
    wind in the trees that heaved and yawed unsteady in the easterly wind
    getting up to cause mischief later in the afternoon if the report was
    anything to go by. He stopped as soon as he started again. In the
    tall grass near a clearing, a man lay on his back. He noticed
    stillness of the body first, then how the body lay on its back and
    then the awkward angle of the limbs. Hesitantly Darren moved forward
    to see for sure. He was dead and no doubt abut that. He could see the
    open eyes and gaping mouth. A heart a attack perhaps?. Probably more
    common that one would think especially for men over fifty as this man
    looked as Darren peered closer. A large gash in the man’s neck had
    let a great deal of blood to soak the ground. Not a heart attack.
    Darren suddenly felt queasy. Then to his right, two women bounced
    along jogging and chatting breathlessly. Darren needed to get out of
    here asap but the women had seen him and had slowed. Possibly from
    the look on his face; one could always read his face according to his
    aunt , they stopped their talk and walked hesitantly before seeing
    the body too. ‘ Um……I think…..Darren stammered but the women
    were quick in reaction and one brought out her phone and waited for
    a connection as she and her friend looked at from the body to Darren
    and back again. Darren felt panic start to overtake the sick feeling
    as he felt the gun still pressing into his hand.

    Reply
  64. James Cerone

    Based on the prompt:

    Lauri tripped on something. She winced as she lost control of her arms and fell face-first into the substrate. Before she pulled herself back up however, and before she even had time to curse herself, a strange feeling; and a sudden, pungent smell came over her. Lifting herself up on her knees, she could see that she landed on a patch of loosely compacted dirt and moss in a tiny clearing with just a few shafts of light racing down from the branches above. They illuminated the patch: how had she not noticed it? Her heart skipped a beat. Scampering back up, she saw what she had tripped on. It was a small stone, taller than it was wide, buried in the ground and leaning very slightly towards the area where she fell. It looked to her, oddly, like it had been there for years, unlike the freshly disturbed crust above it.

    There was a moment of frightful pause; Should I call the police? But then, being the desperately curious type that she was, she began digging. Digging, and digging, and digging. And then she found it. A blindingly blue tarp in nearly perfect condition from what she could tell. It was neat and wrapped with care… wrapped and tucked around a large mass, like one might tuck in a loved one. Lauri stepped out of the hole in a panic. Her hands bled from the frantic scooping of dirt and rock. She began to turn to run to her car, but then stopped in a splitting moment of calm. Bending down, she clasped her hands in prayer and stayed a moment. Then she turned and walked back down the trail towards the road, cell phone in hand, dialing 911.

    Reply
    • Sara Avramovic

      This is good, I love your descriptions of her surroundings.

    • Rico Elhady

      It’s good. But I feel the second paragraph needs some improving. Maybe more action and telling.
      IF you don’t understand, what I mean. Then here, I’ll put it simply. Try to describe what she is feeling when touching the ground. What she feels around her.
      So far you got a good message to the reader about your topic and what happened. But know you got tot make the reader feel they are with the character.

      But, still it is an excellent story background. Keep up the good work.

    • pgq

      What you wrote flowed well. My only stumbling point was why,
      after tripping on a stone, she thought she should call the police. Did the
      disturbed earth look like a grave with a tombstone? And why would she do so
      much digging without tools? So, more description of what she thought she saw
      would have helped. But your language is rich and evocative, and I especially
      liked your use of active verbs.

  65. Rob Hunt

    go fuck yourself

    Reply
  66. Writer20

    A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods. What does she/he do?

    After spending what must have been years is the same woods, she had started to give up hope of ever going home. Her favorite season before being brought to the woods was winter; she loved feeling the snowflakes on her face, going home to get warm, and drinking hot chocolate. Now when snow fell it covered her whole body hiding it from view or possible discovery. Some days she could hear footsteps and the sound of laughter as the sounds faded into the distance dashing her hopes once more. Today the snow is starting to melt and she hears the now familiar sounds of footsteps coming near. There is also something different which gives her hope; a dog runs up sniffing and barking excitedly. She can hear a young man’s voice calling to the dog, “Max, Maaax”, the closer he gets the more she thinks this might be it. He calls once more, “Max, here b…”. His voice travel I left off as he catches sight of her. She heard sounds of choking as he turned away and lost his lunch into the nearby bushes.

    Reply
  67. Chase S.

    Memoirs of a War Hero:
    Day 26
    “It’s cold in the camp, the winter is harsh. Food is hard to get, our men are dying, our sargent died of hypothermia. I haven’t gotten a letter in months. Maybe its the snow, or maybe my family has given up.”
    Day 27
    “Still no letters, we had to leave camp, the Germans attacked, Dimitri was mortally wounded, from a shot wound. It seems less and less likely we can protect Moscow, Camp 7 was overrun too.”
    Day 35
    “The tides have turned, but Dimitri died, and the saddest part was we couldn’t have a funeral. I haven’t ate in two days. But the British should be here with supplies in two days.”
    Day 37
    “The British were supposed to be here, but all we got was Nazis. Half of us died. We stumbled across a small village, and I and the others were finally able to eat.”
    Day 43
    “This time, the Romanians attacked, we were able to hold them off, but 40 of us died, I lost Khazov to frostbite, and I suffered a shot to the stomach, and I may not survive, so I mailed this to my wife:

    Dear Martha,

    I hope everything is okay. Khazov ad Dimitri died, and the sergeant, our last leader, died of hypothermia.

    We were supposed to get a British supply delivery, a week ago, but it never came. I lack in letters from you, I hope everything is okay.

    I suffered a shot to the stomach, and I may not survive.

    With my dying breaths,

    Khaliv

    I mailed the letter, with hopes of a returning one, but even if I got it, I probably wouldn’t live to see it.

    (This is fiction but stuff like this happened all the time in World War II, especially in Operation Barbossa.)

    By: Chase S.

    Reply
    • Chase S.

      I’m not done yet, I will keep adding on when I have time
      -Chase S.

  68. R.A. Wilkerson

    “It was but a faint flicker among the fallen pine brush. Perhaps a discarded candy wrapper or residual morning dew that had yet to pass away. Otherwise insignificant had it not been for the solitary sunbeam that seemed insistent to shine on this particular point on the ground. The curiosity consumed Henry, a silent beckoning, a nymph-like compulsion to approach the shimmer hidden amongst the forest’s fallen soldiers, in all their autumn hues. The leaves were like the ocean, frozen in time with its ebbs-and-flows, summits, and plateaus; it was at a point of one of the summits that Henry saw that it was a pocket watch, hanging by its chain yet at the same time resting against its leafy foundation. Upon closer inspection, Henry noticed that both the hour and minute hands were missing leaving behind the second-hand in a soliloquy of timekeeping. Henry’s eyes followed the second-hand until he was nearly hypnotized, but the trance was broken by a sharp breeze.”

    Reply
  69. Lorna Robinson

    You’ll be in for three nights they told me as I lay ready for my operation. Three days, what would i do for three days. Three days – such along time to be in bed with only strangers about and nothing to do. I guess the first day i will feel like- excuse the french- poop and then after that- I hope I feel better by the hour, except for the third day which is usually the day when the blues hit and all you want to do is cry. Just as well i had my magazines tucked away in my bag. Imagine my surprise when the Dr came around the next day and said I could go home- What! Isnt that to soon? Aren’t I supposed to rest up and be looked after and have my meals delivered…Well theres no place like home, I guess.

    Reply
  70. Alanna Ocampo-Pelland

    Writing prompt: “You are the wind’s interpreter. What is it saying?”

    Move, change, let go because you’re not in charge. Do i come or do i go? You’ll never know, but does it matter? In a breeze I’ll carry leaves away, in a twister, your house. I’m relief in the summer and cruel in the winter. I billowed your sail and you came closer to shore. Then I grew tired of east so i blew west until I fell still, and you longed for my return. I like this power I have. I am the violent gust that broke the locks of the upper room where Fire and Spirit rushed in to turn 12 failures into martyrs. You’ll never see me but you’ll know my path. I ushered the Gospel out.

    Reply
  71. S.Ramalingam

    Of late, I have opportunities pouring in.I wonder how it happens?Is it because, I have real talent? or is it because, I have got a grand daughter recently born to my daughter, who is so cute.She was born in a very auspicious star namely Thiruvonam.When I told my step brother about her birth and the star in which she was born, he immediately quipped : Goddess Lakshmi has come to your home.” In fact it might be a sheer coincidence that consequent to her birth in an auspicious star I have opportunities pouring in.Again I think for a while. Will there be any other reason for the recent upward swing in my profession.Perhaps, I may attribute it to my habit of waking up early in the morning between 0430 a.m to 0500 a.m.I may even attribute it to my habit of walking for 20 minutes immediately after waking up within the compound of my house, i.e under the portico.Finally, I have come to a conclusion: the upward swing in my profession is due to the above mentioned combination of factors : My grand daughter’s birth in an auspicious star;my habit of waking up early in the morning and above all my habit of walking for 15 to 20 minutes to get myself warmed up.Of course, I forgot a very important but a very vital factor: immediately after waking up early in the morning, I used to drink half a litre of potable water.that helps me to keep fit.

    What I have written above is not an imaginary tale but a true account of myself.What is special about it?I am 60 + and I am also a late bloomer too.

    Reply
  72. Atamobi

    A young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the
    woods. What does she/he do?

    As Roy sat there, in the office, listening to his coworker
    drone on in the middle of a meeting, his mind wandered. For some reason, he had
    recalled the time when, at the age of 14, in the middle of a camping trip with
    his family, he and his brother came across the motionless body of what he had
    presumed to be another camper. At first, he had thought that, the man must’ve
    been asleep. But when he walked around the man, to get a better look at him, he
    didn’t seem to be moving at all. Roy and his brother tried to wake the man up;
    but soon they realized that he simply would not wake up. Simply put- the man
    was dead. While his brother ran off to go find their father, Roy stood there,
    motionless, staring at the man. His eyes were closed, and it seemed as though
    he had died instantly, without a struggle of any kind. Did the man have cancer
    or some other disease? Had the man comsumed poison? Roy didn’t know. And in the
    end, it was pointless to wonder. What struck Roy was the sight a dead man
    itself; he hadn’t thought much about his plans for the future, but the sight of
    a dead man right before his eyes would end up making the young man act as
    though his next day would be his last. No longer, would Roy laze about and do
    nothing around the house. No longer, would he sit around and play videogames;
    no longer, would he waste any more time. Roy wanted to accomplish something,
    before he died

    Reply
    • Tina Lonabarger

      This is a good first draft. Now take it a little farther. Remember the five senses. is there a smell, is there a feel of eeriness in the air. You can have Roy come back to the present, inspired by the memory, stand up, interrupt his co-worker and quit his job to go do something amazing. With this draft the world is an open book.

  73. Nina Pogue

    (Write about the blues in the night…)
    I loaded up my Subaru wagon with all my camping equipment needed for the weekend. God I loved that car. It was the perfect vehicle for long summer days, a trip to the river, a drive to the mountains. My favorite thing was that I could fit my daughter’s toddler mattress in the back of it perfectly and protect myself from the rain. My girls of course thought I was a little crazy and my friends were usually jealous that they didn’t think of it first. This weekend my daughters were at their dad’s and I was looking forward to enjoying the company of my friends up at the hot springs at Mt. Baker, finally a weekend I didn’t have to work.
    My friends are an eclectic group of musicians, the type that are particularly creative after several joints and a bottle of Apple Pie. They brought their instruments everywhere and this weekend would be no different. I often allowed them to have band practice at my house and though my kids don’t remember it now I recall them asking me if this was ‘normal’. My response is, “Not likely but we are in good company with great music so I think we should take a moment and enjoy that normal is based on your point of view. At this time, it is our normal.” Now before you get all huffy, my children were never exposed to pot smoking and my friends understood in order to indulge it was to be done away from the girls. It is of course legal in Washington now and as bad as smoking cigarettes is compared to marijuana I say it is about time the states decided to make it legal and use the money to put back into improving our state instead of allowing it to go to the illegal dealers.
    Anyways, I drove up with a friend of mine to Mt. Baker. Brent’s guitar was an extension of him and I drove content in having him play his own songs during the drive. Brent always made me think of an educated hippie, content to live off the grid and yet he knew the value of owning your own land and being your own boss. He worked during the spring and summer as a landscaper with his own equipment and a couple of employees and then during the rainy season he would go visit his brother in Hawaii and soak up the sunshine. Brent owned a piece of property outright along a beautiful stretch of highway between Darrington (where I currently lived) and Rockport. He had built a yurt on this property with an outdoor shower and outhouse. I often brought my girls over to help him work in the garden and loved spending time there because it was something I yearned to do myself but was too afraid to try and fail. His music always reminded me of a mix between Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz and it was fun trying to figure out if his song was political or about a woman from his past. I believe to this day he has written about every woman that has crossed his path, except me. Not sure what that really means but I find it interesting.
    We finally arrived to our destination and I’m excited to see there is no cell service. No random phone calls from my mother checking in with me this weekend, no text messages from my grandmother telling me I need to come to work and fill in for another unreliable bartender. Also interesting were the family of Russians at the base of the trail that had set up camp. They had a huge cast iron pot set up and I had never seen anything that big being used while camping. They had three kids, two girls and a boy, that were adorable. I don’t know what it is about kids that makes them like me so but these kids were no different and soon I had new ‘friends’. From the base of the trail it is a 10-minute hike into the woods before arriving at the hot springs, where some of my friends would be setting up camp. Brent had an ingenious idea of putting his hammock up in a tree on the path and having me join him when it came time to bunk down for the night. Since my divorce, I have been on the mission of discovering new experiences, as long as they are not harming anyone, and so with a bit of trepidation I agreed to try it out when it was time to sleep.
    Brent played his guitar for the Russian family while we waited for our friends to arrive. Kimmy and Shannon arrived together with J.R. Shannon brought his guitar while Kimmy and J.R. brought their voices. Shannon’s long bright blonde hair and thin frame always reminded me of what a typical rocker would look like. I adored his girlfriend Kimmy who often joked that Shannon’s love for his guitars was deeper than his love her. Unfortunately, it was true and years later their relationship ended, though they are still in a band together. J.R. was the first person I met in Darrington other than my sister upon arriving and something about him resonated something within me. Besides the fact that his deep, slightly scruffy singing voice attracted most women around him he also was very easy to spend time with without the need to speak. He looked like a serious teenage boy in a backwards baseball cap, slightly baggy jeans and a t-shirt. Underneath that cap was a loss of hair and in reality, he was in his mid-twenties with a toothpick frame and a baby face. After my divorce, I found some of my favorite moments was visiting with him while mindlessly listening to music and occasionally contemplating the singers intent with the lyrics. I truly loved this group of people and still think about them to this day, the time I spent learning more about enjoying the moments.
    The last person to show up was not a usual addition to our group but I always lit up when seeing him. Mel was an elder man, short and balding with black frame glasses. He played several instruments and just had a love for music. On this occasion, he showed up with an instrument that was so big it was sitting in the backseat and protruding through the front passenger window. I walked up to him as he was struggling to get the instrument from the vehicle. “What on earth is that Mel?”, I asked laughing.
    “This is my bass instrument.” He responded.
    “You do realize it’s a ten-minute hike into the woods. You decided to bring the biggest instrument you own?” I asked him fondly.
    “Of course,. It’s going to sound amazing with all the trees surrounding us. Believe me it’s worth the pain in the butt.”
    I can’t help but to have a love for this gentleman that shows such love for his music. I wish I had kept in touch with him because he probably was the first person that showed me how take the time to enjoy the music itself. He strengthened my love for listening to instruments without the words.
    I know at this point your thinking what did I play or sing, how did I contribute to this musically talented bunch. I wish I could say that I had an amazing voice or carried a keyboard that I could play like nobody’s business but the truth is I’m not sure how I fit into this group. Maybe my love for people in general and my genuine fondness for their music, in any case they let me tag along and occasionally I could play the tambourines. Every band needs a roadie, right?
    Before we headed up the Russian family offered to feed all of us in exchange for music later in the evening and everyone agreed. Just another reason to try new things, getting the opportunity to meet interesting people along the way and experience generosity that is rarely shown with your own neighbors.
    Once we settled around the Hot Springs the fire was started as the sun began to set, the joint was passed around, and the Apple Pie flowed freely. This was one of my favorite memories. The fire dancing, shadows playing on the ground, laughter and music. The stars were clearly shining overhead, unlike when I lived in the city. Though there was always a part of me that said, “This is foolish, get back to work, this is not how normal people live.” I refused to listen to my inner critic on this night. As the night ended and I faced my fears by climbing into a hammock that was over the top of the trail and nestled into the warmth Brent provided. I looked above me. I could still here Mel playing his Bass with the moonlight overhead trying to reach thru the trees. A few people walked below us not realizing that we were hanging above them cocooned and being cradle by the blues.

    Reply
  74. Kerstin Pilz

    Thank you for sharing your Letters from a widow. I liked the way you convey the sense of loss through food. I can totally relate to that. When my husband died, for months, perhaps even the first year, I continued to shop as if I had two people to feed whilst at the same time, like you say, forgetting to cook proper food for myself. I love remembering my own journey through loss and grief by reading your letters and seeing the cathartic power of expressive writing. thank you for sharing.

    Reply
  75. Aiden Wolfe

    Moonlight: A Father’s Curse

    He ran. His lungs struggled to gulp enough air to keep him from passing out. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe through the burning pain. He knew if he had to run much longer his lungs were going to catch fire. His legs were not in much better shape. They had begun cramping right about the time his lungs began to burn. His heart pounded hard in his chest but he knew he needed to keep running.
    He wasn’t afraid. He had a sense of urgency to get back home as fast as possible. He knew what had killed the man he came across in the woods. Everyone in his small township would have known what had killed the man. There had been blood everywhere and parts of the man had been missing. The body had not been dead long as indicated by the steam that still wafted from the shredded gut of the poor victim of misfortune.
    Joshua was very aware that his hands were bloody. He was aware that the branches that whipped at him had left cuts and scrapes on his arms. He was convinced that the slashes where the blood had to have come from, however, when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, it came away smeared with crimson. He stopped and looked at his hands just as he was reaching his home.
    A terrible tearing sensation tore through his body and he let out an agonizing scream. He looked up at the sky and saw that the cloud cover that had kept the forest so dark was now beginning to unveil the bright full moon. “No!” he shouted. He could not be there. He looked at the window of the house and saw his wife’s terrified face. “No!” he shouted again. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He turned to run but was immediately grabbed by strong rough hands and chains were wrapped tight around him. “It’s OK Joshua.” He heard the gruff deep bass voice of his father. “We got ya lad.” He could feel his arms being bound behind his back. He did not struggle or fight. His mind was just clear enough to know who they were and that they were helping him. They were helping him to protect his wife and children.
    “Who did he get?” he heard his brother ask their father.
    “I guess we find out in the morning.” His father replied, “Next time I tell you we need stronger chains, you bloody well get me stronger chains.” The old man scolded his younger son. “Alright Joshua, let’s get you into the basement and chain you back up. Then your brother and I will go clean up your mess.” The old man stroked the back of Joshua’s head with true affection. Joshua let the two men lead him around the house at a brisk trot. As he felt the pains that he knew would lead to another transformation, he knew that his family was safe.

    Reply
    • Rob Hunt

      Excellent intro Aiden. It reads well for me.

    • Donovane van Dyk

      Wow your writing is very good. I love your short sentences, with the way the words used to describe the details flows so gently. Makes it convenient to read. The descriptions are clear and the story had a great twist to it.Your words are also not to doctoral it is kept simple. Really fun piece to read.

    • Cordelia Gerald

      The struggle between the dual self was slowly revealed. The full moon and loving family members told the reader he was a ware wolf. His submission to his dad & brother and sense of family while leaving the scene of the crime is confusing. Regardless, the story unfolds and the reader anxiously wait to read what is next.

    • IcePixie165

      Pretty good stuff. I’m intrigued to see what happens next. I like the line “The old man stroked the back of Joshua’s head with true affection.” I enjoy seeing a family dynamic where the entire family isn’t torn apart and hating someone for being a werewolf. I’d keep reading.

    • Laura

      The description of his running through the woods grabbed my attention right away. the twist of it being a vampire story made it even better. Its amazing how one idea can be written in so many interesting ways.

    • Marietjie van Niekerk

      Nice work. Are you sure he is a vampire, Laura? I think he is a werewolf. Cant wait to read more. It amazes me how you can make the words flow so easily. It makes me think of Anthony Hopkins in Wolfman.

    • Milady Diaz

      I dig this. Really nice. Love the short sentences and the detail description makes me jealous (that’s precisely my kryptonite). Keep it up!

    • Hindra Saputra

      Werewolf !! Who’s with me ?

    • Mantas Dumbrauskas

      Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

    • Mantas Dumbrauskas

      Intense. I touched my neck to check if chains were not there. The fast paced telling is probably a result of short sentence. I’ll note this as I learn further. I am eagerly waiting for a sequel.

    • Rachel

      That was a great read and I could picture what you were describing what the dead man must have looked like and the main character that was bei!ng chained up. Since we are told on this writing challenge to critique the stories, I would probably describe what the main character looked like before his transformation back to a human since it sounds as though he is a werewolf. When I reached the end of the story, I was pulled in and I was left wanting to find out what happens next. I enjoyed it!

    • V Kow

      I love this story idea! “The old man stroked the back of Joshua’s head with true affection.” is a really descriptive sentence, as it shows how the people in his family feel about him. Unlike most werewolf stories, he is not hated. He is loved, and that is very meaningful. Overall, great job!

    • Rico Elhady

      Your story really clung me on. I would love to hear the end of it and any prequels (if any). It really is stunning. Great work! Good job!

    • pgq

      Aiden: Very fast paced. I was trying to figure out
      what had happened, what was happening next and then what would happen. The
      story kept my attention and, even though I am not into werewolf stories, I felt
      some sympathy for the main character. If
      this piece is the background or lead in to another, longer story then it is the
      right pace. But as a story in itself you might want to slow the pace and put in
      more detail. I did like the way you involved more than one character. That
      makes it more interesting.

    • zainab mushtaq

      Very intriguing!

    • Luuk

      very cool, i don’t like werewolf story’s but you managed to keep it exciting and intersting by intruducing elements i havent seen before!

    • Khan

      very engaging. I was captivated by the way you described his run from the site to his home. ”He wasn’t afraid. He had a sense of urgency to get back home as fast as possible. He knew what had killed the man he came across in the woods. Everyone in his small township would have known what had killed the man. There had been blood everywhere and parts of the man had been missing. The body had not been dead long as indicated by the steam that still wafted from the shredded gut of the poor victim of misfortune’ loved this part if your story.

  76. Rman

    I think I lost track of the time and I worked on this about 45 minutes – don’t worry about grammar – I just threw this together as new story line – I don’t know where it is going quite yet or if it ever will. Good to be back.

    It never fails to amaze me how sensitive your senses become
    in the dark. I am a little deaf in one ear and yet, turn off the lights and I
    hear everything.

    The problem becomes distinguishing what is normal and what
    is something you should concerned about.

    Then there is that sixth sense, the one that makes your skin
    tighten and your hairs rise. Instinct, some people don’t have it or enough it
    seems. Don’t walk down dark alleys is a pretty common sense thing and yet
    people charge down them all the time only to find the reason you don’t go down
    dark alleys.

    That’s where I am right now, a dark alley. I don’t even know
    how I got here . Oh I know physically how. My problem is that I should have
    seen it coming. It was all there before me, but I chose to ignore it and now.
    It is dark, I am here, and there are the reasons you don’t go down dark alleys.

    I have no real play here; I am outnumbered and have no
    cavalry coming to save the day. I have been here before, but as you get older
    you aren’t supposed to find yourself in these situations anymore. You want to
    know how I got here, okay.

    Five days ago I was sucking down a beer at Chick’s bar and I
    met Chrissy. Light brown hair, highlighted, enough makeup to make her eyes
    interesting, but nothing crazy, nails done with two colors, jeans and a nice
    shirt, fit about forty. Nice looking.

    She chatted with the barmaid and I guess I was the topic of
    their conversation. She threw me an eye and I wasn’t going to respond, but the
    barmaid gave me a look like, come on now. So, I struck up the conversation. We
    talked for about an hour and half and then I had to meet my friend Andy to
    discuss a job he needed help with. There was something about her that put me
    off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something.

    Chrissy asks if she could go along for the ride, promising
    to be quiet as a mouse and stay out of the way. I raised my eyebrow and rolled
    my eye indicating to the barmaid if she thought she was okay. She shook her
    hand and threw it out. I guess this was all up to lady luck tonight.

    I weighed the conversation and her actions over the last
    hour and half and decided to take a chance. We left and headed out the door to
    meet Andy.

    Andy’s face said it all. First off he liked what he saw in
    Chrissy, but he also didn’t want her there. I told her to wait in the car while
    we toured the construction site.

    I was gone fifty minutes and true to her word she stayed in
    the car, didn’t ask any questions. This is when the rub came.

    Chrissy asked if being in the construction business was
    hard. I told her I know a lot about the business, but my company provides
    security.

    Though coy, it was obvious that she knew all about me. I
    told her she should come clean and tell me what she wants. Everybody wants
    something it seems these days.

    She began telling me about her childhood. I stopped her and
    told her I don’t do psychotherapy nor do I provide retribution for deeds past
    due.

    Bent over, finger tips white pressing against her forehead.
    Groaning she sits up and grabs my right arm. I slam on the brakes jolting her
    forward. This allows me to remove the
    pistol in my right shoulder holster.
    Yeah, yeah, that’s right I had two beers and was carrying a pistol,
    please, save it.

    I grab her left arm and push it towards the dash making it
    impossible for her to strike at me with her right.

    Eyes wide, mouth agape, the force of my pinning her arm is
    turning painful and she begins to grimace.

    She tells me she only grabbed my arm out of frustration. She
    isn’t looking for revenge. She is looking for her younger brother who her father and mother abused.

    She continues to tell a tale of woe, unfortunately not all
    that unfamiliar these days. She kept referring to her father as a queer
    pedophile predator. As if pedophile wasn’t sufficient. I let her tell her
    story, thinking she needed to vent some. Twenty-three years ago they arrested
    him and they are going to let him out in two weeks. The Doctors say he is
    reformed and will have to get his medicine every week from his parole officer.
    This why she is looking for her brother. You got to love Florida.

    She was sobbing a bit and I released her arm and even
    holstered my pistol. In her story her father only liked boys making me wonder
    where she fit in.

    Mascara running down her face, I told her there were some
    baby wipes in the glove box. She went about fixing her face.

    I told her that I don’t do that kind of work, never have. I
    asked her where she got the impression I could help her?

    All she would say is that two people told her he could help
    her. That was enough, I knew which two people.

    Two years ago I helped a friend who had a friend find out
    what happened to an abusive priest. He had been moved several times within the
    US and then disappeared somewhere in South America. I have a few contacts in
    South America from my time in the military. It all became clear to me.

    I explained that it was totally different, all I did was
    make a few phone calls and my contacts were able to locate him. That was all I
    did, nothing more. In truth what I didn’t tell her was that I had arranged for
    him to trial. He is currently in jail working his way through the justice
    system.

    Chrissy looks at me, her voice hoarse from tears and tells
    me she knows what I did for them. She isn’t asking anything like that.
    Shrieking, “I just need help in finding my brother.”

    She tells me she has been to three other Private
    Investigators and they have all failed or were bought off not to tell me.

    This got my curiosity, why would he pay someone not to tell
    her where he was. So I ask the question, “Why makes you think your PI was paid
    off?”

    There are a few facts that Chrissy left out of her story.
    One that her father is who the papers called the Gay Don years ago, a major
    crime figure in Florida. He was the one who managed to get casinos legalized in
    Florida. He also ran almost every gay, LBGT club in Florida. He got a part of
    all the drugs and prostitution that went on in and around them. The case came
    back to me, it was national news and anyone over 50 would remember it.

    She also forgot to mention that she used to be his son
    Robert and her brother’s sex at the moment is unknown.

    As intriguing as the case is it is not the sort of thing I
    do or care to be involved with. It has too many ways to become a headache for
    me.

    As soon as I explain that to Chrissy, she goes off about it
    being because I am a homophobic racist. A little stunned since I helped gay man
    and that is how he, she came to me. Then she apologized saying it was her
    frustration at not being able to get any help. It was as if her father was back
    in power, but he isn’t even released yet, how could that be.

    She rambled on for another five minutes about every
    conspiracy theory she could imagine. I drove her back to Chick’s Bar where we
    met and told her I will give her a call tomorrow and let her know if I can help
    her or not.

    She thanked and apologized to me again. She rested her hand
    on my arm and looked into my eyes. If the eyes are the window to our souls then
    his or hers have been sucked out because I saw nothing, not anger, not hope,
    not desperation, they were the eyes of an empty shell.

    Reply
  77. Rob Hunt

    The Body in
    the Woods

    He was going to do it. He was doing it today. He knew
    Martin would be somewhere around the park if not on the trim track that went through the woods.
    He was sure that his mums former boyfriend would be there and around ten am on a Thursday. It was an observation among many over the the last six months. Six months of tracking and lets face it stalking the guy like a deer, had found pay dirt. Darren was already at the the
    southern edge of forty six square miles of parkland. He, unlike many of the people who came through here, had brought a Colt 45 pistol. A 1911 to be exact plus twenty cartridges. It was a souvenir brought back by his late father when life in the Far East had been exceptionally hazardous to all. Darren planned to be as dangerous to Martin Johnson, the prick. He had made his mother so sorry that she was alive. Martin would be in the throws of deep regret if Darren had
    anything to do with it. He walked parallel to one of the meandering dirt paths heading North. He sloughed through undergrowth keep a distance of a few yards from the path. He stopped to listen here and there for any movement. Martin would be punctually heading West in
    twenty minutes and a hundred yards or so distant. Darren needed to be in good cover before then and without anyone else on the track to notice him. He gripped the gun inside the right pocket of his olive coloured army surplus jacket. Its weight reassured and frightened
    him. He really was going to kill someone. He would be a murderer but he would, at long last, know satisfaction in his life. People like Martin turned others into killers because there weren’t any laws against someone being an arsehole and so no hangman’s noose reserved for total wankers. Darren was forced to assume the role of judge and he would be the gallows and Lord how Martin would swing. The oxygen thief had sunk his last avocado smoothie. Darren stopped again, listening. Only the sounds of the sparrows and the wind in the trees that heaved and yawed unsteady in the easterly wind getting up to cause mischief later in the afternoon; if the report was anything to go by. He stopped as soon as he started again. He noticed stillness of the body first, then how the body lay on its back and then the awkward angle of the limbs. In the tall grass near a clearing, a man possibly in his sixties and in natty red shorts and back T-shirt, lay staring up at the sky. Hesitantly Darren moved forward to see for sure. He saw the open but blank staring eyes and now the gaping mouth. A heart a attack perhaps?. Probably more common than one would think, especially for men over fifty doing exercise in the woods. Darren peered closer. A large gash in the man’s neck had let a great deal of blood to soak the ground. Not a heart attack. Darren suddenly felt queasy. Then to his right, roughly ten yards away two women bounced along jogging and chatting breathlessly. Darren needed to get out of here asap but the women had seen him and had slowed. Possibly from the look on his face; one could always read his face according to his aunt , they stopped their talk and walked hesitantly before seeing the body too. ‘ Um……I think…..Darren stammered but the women were quick in reaction and one brought out her phone and waited for a connection as she and her friend looked from the body to Darren and back again. Darren felt panic start to overtake the sick feeling as he felt the gun still pressing into his hand.

    Reply
  78. Harry B

    WRITE A STORY ABOUT A SCHOOL YARD FIGHT USING ALL SIX ELEMENTS OF STORY TELLING
    It was a friday and every friday it has become a tradition in my school were by students must always engage themselves in a fight with each other either the senior students versus the junior one or between class mates.
    This friday wasn’t an exceptional one at times I think deeply what might be the cause of this every friday fight, rumor has it that it’s the spirit of those students who lost their lives while in school, that their spirits are still roaming the school premises causing students to fight each other but that’s hideous to hear to me it’s a mere superstitious believe or isn’t it?…
    The school authority along side the disciplinary committee have tried endlessly to put an end but failed; the fight as always is cause by a senior student whom by trying to exercise his seniority in the school yard over stepped his boundary.
    During lunch time as usual most students do find fun in playing football instead of having lunch, my class mates decided to play football among themselves as the match was in progress a senior walked pass the field unknowingly my mate fired a shoot towards his direction which barely touched him. The senior picked offense accusing the student of intentionally kicking the ball towards his direction and trying to make an ocean out of a drop of water even with the thousands of apologies coming from both the players and my mates he paid deaf ears to it and made move to seize the ball;while the student with the ball refused to let him have it after much words exchange he advanced with a clinch fist towards my mate who was with the ball which resulted to a serious exchange of punches and with his mate watching the joined in beating my him and my mates couldn’t hold back but engaged in a group fight, we the girls rather than shout and throw objects at our seniors, mocking them the fight lasted for 10 minutes before the teachers came in to separate them and took the key fighters and some of us who were watching to their office for questioning which I was among.
    Everyone said their piece and when it my turn to say I had to exaggerate to drive home a bad impression about the senior students especially him and maybe cause I don’t like him nor his attitude due to this he was suspended indefinitely.
    Inside my head I thought to myself that I was a little bit harsh on my statement or was it the judgment that was harsh but well either ways he deserves it cause to me I think he brought it upon himself even though am not much of a football fan but I think him walking on the field while a match is going on is wrong at least this will serve as an example to the rest that wants to or think of involving in school fight and to me I foresee the long practiced tradition coming to an end if fighting issues are handled like this or even better

    Reply
  79. Sandy

    14 Prompts – Out of Place
    My friend Karin invited me to her house for Christmas that year. Her family would be there. All of them. Well, not her Dad, of course. He had died years ago. Her mom would be there. Her sisters, Emma and Sarah. Emma would be bringing her longtime boyfriend. Her brother Jack was coming in from Seattle. He wasn’t involved with anyone at the moment. At least he hadn’t been the last time he and Karin had spoken. But, Karin had pointed out how Jack always did keep them guessing so who knew. He could very well show up with the love of his life as they all were when they were. Until they weren’t. Her aunts would be there. Her cousins, their husbands and wives, and their children. Karin groaned about her husband’s family year round. But, it was Christmas. The season required setting aside differences in favor of tidings and joy. So, they too would be there. All, it seemed, were welcome.
    I didn’t have anywhere to go. My Mom and Dad were living miles away in Arizona and even so had decided to spend the holidays with my sister and her family in Florida. My husband and I were separated and on the doorstep of divorce. I made sure I had the kids for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. I wanted them to wake up in their beds to the magic of Santa and the joy he would bring. And, it was magic. Wrapping paper flying. Screams of delight. Eyes wide with wonder after each new discovery under the tree. When the last gift was opened, though, there was no time to settle in and play. It was off to their Dad’s side of the family to go through the magic of discovery all over again. After the handoff I closed the door behind them and turned around to face the leftover mess. To face the stillness. To face the emptiness. I lunged like a projectile onto the couch, pushed aside boxes, dragged a blanket over my head, and howled. After all the shopping, all the wrapping, all of the keeping it together -the tension of the season and the situation flowed through my tears and out my sobs. In that moment I decided I would go to Karin’s. I needed connection. I was going to take her up on her invitation.
    When I turned onto Karin’s street I saw the cars lined out up front. The festivities were in full swing and through my sadness I felt grateful for the invitation. I would not spend Christmas with my children but I would not be alone. Walking up the drive I could see Karin’s family and friends through the window. The lit Christmas tree was spectacular and shining brightly in the background. I rang the bell and waited for the door to open. And, I waited. I shouldn’t be here I thought but I rang the bell again. Karin’s daughter Maisie opened the door and ran off. I stepped inside and Karin spotted me from across the room. She hurried over and hugged me and wished me a Merry Christmas. Her husband appeared and took my coat. We walked over to her mother who smiled tightly and gave me a loose hug. Emma waved to me from across the room. I excused myself and cut through the crowd to greet her. She held out her hand to show me a dazzling engagement ring. She was incredibly happy, glowing, and giddy in love. I hugged her tight and told her how happy I was for her. I moved from Emma to Sarah to Jack and on to various cousins and aunts and uncles until I had greeted them all. There was eating, drinking, and a whole lot of merry going on. Surrounded by people, I couldn’t seem to hook a solid conversation. I spotted an inviting chair near the fireplace and sunk in. I sat back and took it all in. And, sitting there on the sidelines, I recognized that while I was welcome here I was an outsider. I was an outsider on the inside looking in and in that moment I felt as empty as I had when I closed the door to my children heading off with their father.

    Reply
  80. RohMoni

    my soul

    I had recently read that the spirit of each in this life have created other spirit fit in with her and meshes. But the sad thing is that these spirits do not actually meet but remain sporadic. We may find the spirit complementary us but it is very hard to win it. The reason for this is that those lives her books for another meeting in the eternal afterlife shall win and contentment that meeting. And remain that spirit this world tormented because they are far away from her twin sister, but this year life. I’m still dreaming about how my life will be near you, O my soul, always beautiful and something that is imagined. They say that what God has taken you always have because it will not please you. But I never imagined that you bring me sorrow. But I think the Lord reward you and I think that there is still what is beautiful lies ahead. The time has not come yet nothing else. Yes, our lives have changed a lot but I’m still dreaming and I hope I do not know why. Just what I understand, I’m still your need closeness.

    “sorry my English is not good, I use google translate to change to English”

    Reply
  81. RohMoni

    my soul

    I had recently read that the spirit of each in this life have created other spirit fit in with her and meshes. But the sad thing is that these spirits do not actually meet but remain sporadic. We may find the spirit complementary us but it is very hard to win it. The reason for this is that those lives her books for another meeting in the eternal afterlife shall win and contentment that meeting. And remain that spirit this world tormented because they are far away from her twin sister, but this year life. I’m still dreaming about how my life will be near you, O my soul, always beautiful and something that is imagined. They say that what God has taken you always have because it will not please you. But I never imagined that you bring me sorrow. But I think the Lord reward you and I think that there is still what is beautiful lies ahead. The time has not come yet nothing else. Yes, our lives have changed a lot but I’m still dreaming and I hope I do not know why. Just what I understand, I’m still your need closeness.

    Reply
  82. Harry B

    WRITE A STORY ABOUT A SCHOOL YARD FIGHT USING ALL SIX ELEMENTS OF STORY TELLING
    It was a friday and every friday it has become a tradition in my school were by students must always engage themselves in a fight with each other either the senior students versus the junior one or between class mates.
    This friday wasn’t an exceptional one at times I think deeply what might be the cause of this every friday fight, rumor has it that it’s the spirit of those students who lost their lives while in school, that their spirits are still roaming the school premises causing students to fight each other but that’s hideous to hear to me it’s a mere superstitious believe or isn’t it?…
    The school authority along side the disciplinary committee have tried endlessly to put an end but failed; the fight as always is cause by a senior student whom by trying to exercise his seniority in the school yard over stepped his boundary.
    During lunch time as usual most students do find fun in playing football instead of having lunch, my class mates decided to play football among themselves as the match was in progress a senior walked pass the field unknowingly my mate fired a shoot towards his direction which barely touched him. The senior picked offense accusing the student of intentionally kicking the ball towards his direction and trying to make an ocean out of a drop of water even with the thousands of apologies coming from both the players and my mates he paid deaf ears to it and made move to seize the ball;while the student with the ball refused to let him have it after much words exchange he advanced with a clinch fist towards my mate who was with the ball which resulted to a serious exchange of punches and with his mate watching the joined in beating my him and my mates couldn’t hold back but engaged in a group fight, we the girls rather than shout and throw objects at our seniors, mocking them the fight lasted for 10 minutes before the teachers came in to separate them and took the key fighters and some of us who were watching to their office for questioning which I was among.
    Everyone said their piece and when it my turn to say I had to exaggerate to drive home a bad impression about the senior students especially him and maybe cause I don’t like him nor his attitude due to this he was suspended indefinitely.
    Inside my head I thought to myself that I was a little bit harsh on my statement or was it the judgment that was harsh but well either ways he deserves it cause to me I think he brought it upon himself even though am not much of a football fan but I think him walking on the field while a match is going on is wrong at least this will serve as an example to the rest that wants to or think of involving in school fight and to me I foresee the long practiced tradition coming to an end if fighting issues are handled like this or even better

    Reply
  83. Micaela S

    She walked with a skip in her step down the familiar path taking in the warm, sweet air. Her sneakers hit the pavement with the rhythm she knew so well, and she even welcomed the itching sensation that was beginning to move in her thigh muscle. This day was one she had waited for for months with surprising patience. It was the day she received news from the majority of the colleges she had applied to early decision in the fall. The cherry on top was her acceptance into all four of her top choices, and generous scholarships from two of them. It was not surprising then, that she could not think of a better way to celebrate then to go for a run on her neighborhood trail. Approaching the stretch of trail she loved the most–the stretch with trees to its left and a lake to its right–the runner decided to sprint until she reached the crossroads at the start of the forest path. Sweat dripping down her neck and forehead and the breeze assaulting her airways, she ran with the vigor and enthusiasm that had been culminating in her all day. It was this state of complete fixation that landed her face down on the sandy trail, staring directly at what appeared to be a corpse that judging from the bright red, undried blood drenching its torso, had been alive less than an hour earlier. The runner let out a scream that startled nearby birds out of their branches. The breeze no longer felt warm, and her itching was replaced with a sick, churning feeling in her stomach. Not fully believing her eyes, the runner pinched herself repeatedly to make sure she was not the victim of a twisted dream. Glancing cautiously around her as she was now hyper aware of her surroundings that suddenly felt unfamiliar and unwelcoming, she approached the body. Trying to get as good of a look as she could while staying three feet away from the corpse, she peered down at the face. Whoever it was that the body had belonged to had died with his eyes open; the runner stared into vacant, frozen eyes. The person’s mouth was open as well, and flies were already beginning to settle on the tongue. What the runner saw next however, turned the churning in her stomach into an unbearable sickness that triggered a rise of bile in her throat. The corpse’s blood-soaked torso, upon closer look she noticed, had been gutted. Somehow, the stomach of this person had been opened, and its contents emptied out onto the grass beside it. With almost no hesitation, the runner lurched forward and vomited onto the sandy, pebbled trail.

    Reply
  84. SophiaG

    Sticky, partly coagulated blood oozed down from the outside of her bony ankle and it reminded her of all the times she had been with her brothers and ended up getting a scratch, a graze or a bruise. Thankfully nothing had ever been that bad, the only permanent scar was the small chip in her front tooth from when she had fallen off the bed whilst wrestling with James and had hit her face on the chest of drawers. Charging forward in her usual way, the twigs snapped underneath her feet and the leaves made a pleasing crackling sound. Other girls, plenty she knew of, wouldn’t dream of stepping foot into the forest at night, but she was not other girls and had been raised in a way that didn’t involve dolls and pink fluffy kittens. She was one of the boys, better actually, she was a hybrid of feminine and masculine, with the confidence and strength of a boy, but with also the innate power of intuition and emotional intelligence of the female, the best of both worlds. Nothing scared her, except being alone, not as in spending minutes and hours with her own company, that was something she relished, alone as in being all alone in the world, being abandoned, like her mother had abandoned her before she could even form any memories of what having a mother felt like. Sometimes she thought it would be less painful if her mother was dead, rather than the reality of just not being wanted by her. She turned the pain into anger and used that anger to motivate herself to want to make a good life so that she never became anything like her. She rounded a large oak and lying on the damp bed of leaves was a woman’s body.

    Reply
  85. Caela Simeone

    She walked with a skip in her step down the familiar path taking in the warm, sweet air. Her sneakers hit the pavement with the rhythm she knew so well, and she even welcomed the itching sensation that was beginning to move in her thigh muscle. This day was one she had waited for for months with surprising patience. It was the day she received news from the majority of the colleges she had applied to early decision in the fall. The cherry on top was her acceptance into all four of her top choices, and generous scholarships from two of them. It was not surprising then, that she could not think of a better way to celebrate than to go for a run on her neighborhood trail. Approaching the stretch of trail she loved the most–the stretch with trees to its left and a lake to its right–the runner decided to sprint until she reached the crossroads at the start of the forest path. Sweat dripping down her neck and forehead and the breeze assaulting her airways, she ran with the vigor and enthusiasm that had been culminating in her all day. It was this state of complete fixation that landed her face down on the sandy trail, staring directly at what appeared to be a corpse that judging from the bright red, undried blood drenching its torso, had been alive less than an hour earlier. The runner let out a scream that startled nearby birds out of their branches. The breeze no longer felt warm, and her itching was replaced with a sick, churning feeling in her stomach. Not fully believing her eyes, the runner pinched herself repeatedly to make sure she was not the victim of a twisted dream. Glancing cautiously around her as she was now hyper aware of her surroundings that suddenly felt unfamiliar and unwelcoming, she approached the body. Trying to get as good of a look as she could while staying three feet away from the corpse, she peered down at the face. Whoever it was that the body had belonged to had died with his eyes open; the runner stared into vacant, frozen eyes. The person’s mouth was open as well, and flies were already beginning to settle on the tongue. What the runner saw next however, turned the churning in her stomach into an unbearable sickness that triggered a rise of bile in her throat. The corpse’s blood-soaked torso, upon closer look she noticed, had been gutted. Somehow, the stomach of this person had been opened, and its contents emptied out onto the grass beside it. With almost no hesitation, the runner lurched forward and vomited onto the sandy, pebbled trail.

    Reply
  86. Lexi Richardson

    Moving In (This is a book im working on with a close friend of mine and I wrote most of this previously but the fifteen minutes allowed me to add more depth and details to my work.)

    “I think that’s it, Dad.” I said to my father as he brought in the last of my things. Today I was officially moving into the dorm room, located south of the main building at the University of California campus. My parents drove down with me, against my will I may add. I thought I was perfectly capable of driving from Chino Hills to L.A alone. Their minds were averse to the idea, though.

    “It looks nice,dear.” Mother said now,placing a hand on her hip. Her eyes scanned the area. She shook her head at the other side of the room,which laid bare.

    My roommate,whom I didn’t meet prior,was nowhere to be found. I think she was going to be coming in later. Hopefully,I won’t have to wait too long to set up the shared space. I’d gone and bought the essential college dorm materials: the mini fridge,a microwave,and lots of cork-boards for reminders and such. I’d even managed to snag an extra duvet set and sheets.

    I looked around at my side of the dorm and sighed. By now,Dad had wrestled all the boxes inside and the bags of things had accumulated the floor beside my new bed. My work was going to be cut out for me later when I’d unpack all alone.

    “Well,it looks like this is it,hon.I think it’s time for us to go.” my mom stated as she walked behind me.

    I turned around as she put her cold hands on my bare shoulders.

    “You’re an adult now,Brooklynn. We expect you to act like it.” she warned and looked at me sternly. Her eyes had grew a little softer,but were still red from when she had a break down in the car earlier.

    My going away had left her and my father alone. I was the last child to leave,after my big sister Brittney. The loneliness would drive my mother crazy,since she looked over Brittney and I’s tight schedules since we were first born. I hope she’ll learn to find something to do with her time now that all of us kids were gone.

    “I understand,Mom.” I gave her a tight hug,never wanting to let go. But when I finally did,I heard sniffling and saw my dad on the verge of tears. He always cried when the time was there to let go. I quickly ran to him and gave him a warm embrace.
    “I’m going to miss you so much.” He choked now. The tears that left his eyes fell on my shirt,leaving a wet mess. I didn’t mind,since I knew this was all going to be hard on him,maybe even more harder than it was on my mother. I was his youngest daughter. I knew it was going to hurt him if I went away and left him to not be there when I needed him.

    “Aw I’ll miss you too Dad.” I said in his shirt. The familiarity of his cologne filled my nose and I took in as much as I could.

    I wouldn’t see my family for another 3 months,when Thanksgiving Break rolled around. That’s a long time without smelling my dad’s signature scent everyday and my mother’s cinnamon perfume.

    I let go of my father,who joined my mother and wrapped an arm around her. They stood,smiling at me and I felt happy. After a moment,my parents moved toward the door.

    “Bye Brooklynn. We love you!” they shouted and left. I watched as they climbed into their car and headed to close the door.

    “I love you too!” I yelled back,my voice soft. I was truly on my own now,no cousins to call over,no friends to console along with me,only myself and my things. It’s time to start my own life.
    Since class didn’t start till tomorrow,I decided to start unpacking. The amount of belongings I had were a lot,and suddenly I wished that I’d brought lighter.
    I threw my wavy black hair up into a ponytail and started opening the boxes. Each one was marked with my signature handwriting on the side,labeled with a color coded marker and organized to a T. Most of the things I’d packed were light and simple,so an hour later,one box was left.

    On the side,it read ‘History’. This was one of the most important of all of my things. Many of my childhood memories were found in this one box.
    Most people would say that their parents had all of their pictures from when they were little. For me,I have all of my images and old nicknacks myself. The very first time I moved at six,I decided to collect my own things to keep,that way I wouldn’t lose anything. Even then,I knew how important it was to keep up with small personal items when you moved away.

    I glanced at the keepsakes from inside. Majority of the stuff were from my old friend,Greyson Maxwell,my cousins Cameron and Chloie,and boys I used to have play-dates with when I lived in Nebraska. One of the many things I hold dear is a photo album.All of the adolescent pictures from my young life are in here. One picture always catches my eye.

    It’s a picture of me,at about the age of 11 or 12. I’m sitting in the grass,reading a book and another little girl,Greyson, is sitting next to me with a book as well. We are smiling,it’s a sunny day and our expressions are captured perfectly. When I look at this picture,I can recall the way the wind moved,the feeling that was running pure through my skin.

    I sighed,and closed the photo album. Greyson used to be my best friend. I’d known her since I was a baby. We’d had some of the best memories together with these two guys,one who was a blonde and the brother of one of my other friends,Kenzie, and the other who had black hair,like mine. The four of us made many fun moments together and now I couldn’t tell you their names if I’d remembered.

    The door opened a few seconds later and in walked a girl with dark brown hair. Finally,my roommate was here. I stood quickly,throwing the album on my bed and moved towards my new partner in crime. I placed my hands on my sides.

    “Hi.” I said and smiled warmly. The girl looked around the room,most likely figuring out where she would be placing her bags. “Sorry,I didn’t know where you were going to put your stuff but I figured you wouldn’t care which side you’d sleep.” I apologized.

    “Hey,you must be my roommate?” she questioned. I nodded.

    “Yeah.” I told her.”My name’s Brooklynn.”
    She walked over to me and pulled out her hand. I shook it as she introduced herself.

    “I’m Greyson.”

    Reply
  87. IcePixie165

    Part of Chapter 2 of a book I’ve been working on:

    “By Saturday, Win felt like she needed some serious alone time to decompress. Her teachers and guidance counselors had all warned the seniors in September about tthe amount of work their teachers would be giving them before their college applications were due. They hadn’t lied. Win spent hours now doing homework, which she felt was a little excessive, considering the sheer volume of work wasn’t something that any college applications she had yet to tackle asked about.

    “She was used to spending time alone, so the fact that her parents had a lengthy buisness meeting and that Ari was visiting cousins didn’t phase her. She pushed thoughts of schoolwork from her head and instead thought about what she could do to relax.

    “Finally, after scanning through her phone, Win settled on going to see a movie. There weren’t any high claiber films out that she had a burning desire to see, but there was something that had at least three explosions in the trailer that she figured would be brainless fun.

    “Though Win had a habit of running to most places, the movie theater was a bit far, particularly considering the February wind had picked up this week. If she didn’t run, Win had to take one of the family cars, which always called more attention to her than she liked.

    Reply
    • IcePixie165

      Quick apology for typos (I forgot to spell check) and for the fact that this might be a bit boring. It’s definitely not the most interesting part of the book!

  88. Bram v D

    I enjoyed putting my own sci-fi spin on the story idea. I only just started writing and English is not my first language, but I would really love some feedback on this guys!

    Private Baldric drove through the pines of Section 4. His mind occupied. It had been a difficult year on PARAD-3. He needed to clear his thoughts, drive somewhere, drive nowhere. Their supply station had been targeted for the third time that year. There was nothing they could do with what they had been provided with by the Ruling Government. They fought, he fought, as brave as they could but the fight had been lost before it had even started. Baldric lost his right leg and was released from duty until he learned to operate his electromechanical prosthetic. He had tried his best to get a replacement bio-limb on the black markets of Earth, but his funds were insufficient. He had no choice but to stay on his hellish home planet and have a piece of rusty metal be attached to whatever was left of him.

    Driving was easy, it was the walking that cost him all his efforts and left him feeling incapable. He was angry. Angry with the Ruling Government and with the senate of PARAD-3. He was angry with those lazy criminals back on Earth that wouldn’t provide him with a new leg because of ‘insufficient funds’. But most of all he was angry with himself. How could he have let it come to this?
    “This bullshit job comes with bullshit pay”, he murmured. He grabbed the cigarette pack on the seat next to him and as he reached in his pocket to pull out his lighter, the buggy hit something and came to an abrupt halt.

    “What the…”. Baldric stepped out of the buggy. A young man in bright orange ranger overalls was lying dead in the middle of the road. Baldric cursed himself for not paying attention. He could have found a way around the body, pretending he had never even seen it. He lit up a cigarette and leaned against the front of the buggy that housed its engine. PARAD-3’s suns started to set and the only thing keeping Baldric warm was the toxic smoke filling his lungs. He didn’t want to drive back to base yet, he couldn’t stand the looks of pity from his squadron. Policy was to bring back bodies upon finding them, so they could be burned before the forest beasts got to them. He smirked thinking about how desperate that idea of defending a dead man’s honor was. He limped to the back of the buggy and started pushing things aside to make room for the dead ranger.
    “I guess I’ll be a good soldier”, he grunted. As soon as he had cleared out the back of his vehicle, he pulled out his two-way radio to inform base camp he would be bringing in a body. He hesitated. His mind wandered, stumbled upon a memory.
    “Point your gun in another direction.” A saying his mom used to tell him when he would get stuck piecing together a puzzle or couldn’t remember the right path through the pines on their way home. She helped him rearrange his thoughts and dissect his problems from alternative angles. She made him feel like he was never stuck.

    “Point your gun in a different direction.”

    He was stuck now. He had been stuck for years at that rotten supply station. He slowly clamped back his radio onto his jacket. “Fuck it.” He figured those crooks back on Earth would supply him with enough funds for a one-way ticket of off PARAD-3 if he supplied them with a body.
    “Well, a body minus a leg”, he said out loud as he glanced down at his metal limb.

    Reply
  89. Luke

    “It’s cold up in the mountains. My god it’s cold.”

    He turned to me. His eyes locked onto mine. Those pale blue eyes shimmered in the flickering of the camp fire. Years of sun and whipping wind eroded his face into a wrinkled hide. His cheeks were covered in coarse copper whiskers, but the top of his head lacked any hair whatsoever. On his left knee rested a felt hat which he wore out to keep his head from burning in the sun. The man wore a dark coat, patched together by various pieces of hide and rag cloth. Rugged. That is one word you could call him.

    “So how long have you been guiding in these mountains?”

    The rugged man gave a chuckle. As if amused by any doubt I had in his capabilities. His eyes turned towards the flames rising and falling in front of us. A quick jet of air blew, and I hurried to pull my fur collar around my neck. The man sat there solid like some sort of statue. At that point I knew the answer to my question. No man sits that steadfast in a place he’s foreign to.

    -“Well lad I can tell you that I’ve done my fair share of hikes through these passes. I can take you through the shortest path and get you to the other side… say in a few hours at most.”

    Slowly, he aimed his head to the bucket beside him, pursed his lips and shot out a jet of crude liquid.

    “But what if I’m not trying to go through the shortest path?”

    He shot another spray into the bucket besides him. A thin stream of spittle glided down his lips and pooled on his whiskers. In one motion he whipped the spit of his chin and then placed his hand on my shoulder. His pale eyes locked directly onto mine.

    “You know the stories about these parts, don’t you?”
    “I’m familiar.”
    “These mountain trails don’t lead to good for nosy people like you. You know how many folks die up in these parts? The longer stretches of trail are littered with snowy graves of people who tried to brave these parts for the myths people have thrown out into the world. Hell half the people who die up in those mountains ain’t ever found. They don’t even rot. They just die. Crushed by some avalanche or freeze. Then the snow just falls and falls on them. Keeping them just like they were when they died… that of course unless some scavenger digs them up and picks their bones clean of flesh.”
    “Look you can try and scare me all you want but I hired you and I’m paying you to take me where I want you to take me. If you have any hesitations about this then I can just find some other guide.”

    Another harsh breeze whipped through. The canvas of the tents clapped in the violent breeze. The fire shifted and twisted, the flames gave us the seductive dance of their churning glow.

    “There is no other guide that knows these parts like I do. I’ve been in these parts for damn near twenty years. Hell that’s probably as long as you’ve been on this earth.”
    “So you’ll take me where I need you to?”
    “Kid that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is if you try to go up into those mountains without anyone but me than you’ll end up the pickings for some dog. Best if you just go through the normal pass and leave whatever curiosities you have as curiosities.”
    “I can’t do that.”

    Reply
  90. Bram v D

    I enjoyed putting my own sci-fi spin on the story idea. I only just started writing and English is not my first language, but I would really love some feedback on this guys!

    Private Baldric drove through the pines of Section 4. His mind occupied. It had been a difficult year on PARAD-3. He needed to clear his thoughts, drive somewhere, drive nowhere. Their supply station had been targeted for the third time that year. There was nothing they could do with what they had been provided with by the Ruling Government. They fought, he fought, as brave as they could but the fight had been lost before it had even started. Baldric lost his right leg and was released from duty until he learned to operate his electromechanical prosthetic. He had tried his best to get a replacement bio-limb on the black markets of Earth, but his funds were insufficient. He had no choice but to stay on his hellish home planet and have a piece of rusty metal be attached to whatever was left of him.

    Driving was easy, it was the walking that cost him all his efforts and left him feeling incapable. He was angry. Angry with the Ruling Government and with the senate of PARAD-3. He was angry with those lazy criminals back on Earth that wouldn’t provide him with a new leg because of ‘insufficient funds’. But most of all he was angry with himself. How could he have let it come to this?
    “This bullshit job comes with bullshit pay”, he murmured. He grabbed the cigarette pack on the seat next to him and as he reached in his pocket to pull out his lighter, the buggy hit something and came to an abrupt halt.

    “What the…”. Baldric stepped out of the buggy. A young man in bright orange ranger overalls was lying dead in the middle of the road. Baldric cursed himself for not paying attention. He could have found a way around the body, pretending he had never even seen it. He lit up a cigarette and leaned against the front of the buggy that housed its engine. PARAD-3’s suns started to set and the only thing keeping Baldric warm was the toxic smoke filling his lungs. He didn’t want to drive back to base yet, he couldn’t stand the looks of pity from his squadron. Policy was to bring back bodies upon finding them, so they could be burned before the forest beasts got to them. He smirked thinking about how desperate that idea of defending a dead man’s honor was. He limped to the back of the buggy and started pushing things aside to make room for the dead ranger.
    “I guess I’ll be a good soldier”, he grunted.

    As soon as he had cleared out the back of his vehicle, he pulled out his two-way radio to inform base camp he would be bringing in a body. He hesitated. His mind wandered, stumbled upon a memory.
    “Point your gun in another direction.” A saying his mom used to tell him when he would get stuck piecing together a puzzle or couldn’t remember the right path through the pines on their way home. She helped him rearrange his thoughts and dissect his problems from alternative angles. She made him feel like he was never stuck.

    “Point your gun in a different direction.”

    He was stuck now. He had been stuck for years at that rotten supply station. He slowly clamped back his radio onto his jacket. “Fuck it.” He figured those crooks back on Earth would supply him with enough funds for a one-way ticket of off PARAD-3 if he supplied them with a body.
    “Well, a body minus a leg”, he said out loud as he glanced down at his metal limb.

    Reply
  91. Tina Lonabarger

    For not sleeping well last night Markie wakes with excitement and anticipation. After she showers and dresses she grabs a bangle. she holds the bangle in her mouth while see checks her gear in the range rover. Tent-check, sleeping bag-check, she continues this until she is satisfied. The drive to the Smoky Mountains was quicker then she thought it would take. It helped that there was little traffic for New York to here. She looks at her watch to remember the best time to travel. She parks at the Sugarlands Visitor Center parting lot, outside of Gatlinburg, TN. Markie took her time looking through the library of brochures. She chose a few; map of the Appalachian Trail, wild life on the trail and one about the flowers and foliage on the mountains. She sees a grey haired woman sitting behind the counter with reading glasses hanging around her neck on a Perl chain.

    Reply
  92. Mandy

    She ran the same path through the woods every day. Into the trees from her backyard, down the ravine, over the bridge across the stream, up the hill past the warming hut for snowmobilers and hikers in the winter, through the dense trees and into the clearing. She’d check her time and run back again. Once in a while she ventured past the usual clearing, on special occasions like when she had more time or something. Today, she decided to run a little farther. She went through a particularly dense area of trees, this wasn’t her first time here. As she ran, she looked over into the trees at a familiar spot; the ground looked like it had been disturbed. It can’t be! She looked so intently that she tripped over something and fell to the ground – scraping up her hands and face. She cried out in pain and rolled over to see what she tripped on. It was him; it couldn’t be him. She went over to the body that lay on the side of the path; she had tripped on his legs. Who did this? She ran over to the disturbed ground – someone dug him up and just left him on the path for her to find. Or worse, for someone else to find. How did this happen? She frantically looked around for someone watching. The woods were too dense; if there was anyone, she wouldn’t be able to see them. Someone was taunting her, they must have known she’d come back here. After all, she was the one who put him there.

    Reply
  93. sam sunny

    ~ AM I DEAD?! ~
    It was midnight and she was in the woods. She knew she aught to stay at home but nevertheless she was here. She could not remember when or how she reached this deep into the woods and wondered for a moment why exactly she came here. When nothing came up she shrugged it off as if walking around in the woods at this hour was normal.
    “Now how am I going to get out of here?” she asked aloud from no one on particular considering she was alone.
    Turning around twice in her position she tried to remember, anyhow, a way out of this hellhole.
    It was an eerily silent night except for the slight crunches of dried leaves as she stepped on them, moving towards nowhere.
    Suddenly she heard it. A slow whisper of her name carried by the wind flowing towards her. She stopped dead in her track. Straining her ears, she listened and then as she heard it again she sprinted forward into a run. She was running, running as she never had before, running as nothing mattered, running with all her will perhaps running for her life.
    Suddenly she stumbled over a hard object, falling flat on her stomach. Harshly jerking herself upright she looked down at what it was and paled. It was a body, a dead one for that matter. Slowly pushing it to the side she revealed its face. It was none other than herself, her very own self. Looking at her own dead body she gave such an agonizing scream that everything melted away, everything , the trees, forest, the night, her dead body and including herself melted away…………
    Zenya woke up with a start.
    “Oh” she said, absolute relief evident in her voice “just a nightmare”

    Reply
  94. Shumail Daud

    For next hour, she is just going to write. She doesn’t know how it’s going to happen but she knows that this will be the first hour, when she isn’t going to think that how miserable life is, after her world turned upside down last year or maybe it’s just yesterday. She isn’t sure but she knows after that moment she isn’t the same happy kid, how can she be, how can anyone be. She never seemed to lose hope before but now she has. The day her closest friend left her, saying nothing, was the last day for all the hope she had got. She knows that there are bigger problems, worst scenarios happening to people all around her. But this is her worst scenario. Although nobody around her seems to understand that but she knows that her feelings are real. Because she has read love stories for all of her life and never questioned their rationality back then how can she do that now.
    She sighed and moved towards the entrance of classroom. She knows that she can never start fresh, not after what she has gone through, but she knows that the world has it’s own ways of bringing hope to our lives and so until then she’s just going to live.

    Reply
  95. Laura

    How stupid is this she thought to herself? Why did she ever get out of the car? She knew the answer it was because that loud mouth jerk she had been out with was dead drunk. Taking her chances walking seemed liked the better idea. Until now, she hated walking through the woods. She wasn’t afraid, it was a mess, and these amazing black patent leather shoes she found on sale were getting ruined. It wasn’t easy walking in them either, every time she took a step, and she sunk into a hole. A farmer could follow her around and plant seeds in the holes that she was making, and have a bumper crop by spring.
    The fact that she was wearing a skirt didn’t help matters either; her stockings were torn to shreds. She was combatting the darkness by holding up her iPhone and using it as a flashlight. She then she tripped over something, must have been a log, but whatever it was, she tripped, fell and was on a down grade, she rolled ass over tea kettle, every time she heard a crack of a branch, she prayed it WAS a branch and not one of her body parts. That was all the needed. She held onto that phone for dear life though. She had a feeling she might need to call for help. Just as quickly has she started rolling down the hill, she stopped. The ground had leveled out. She put her phone in her pocket and slowly started to feel where she hurt. She wiggled fingers, toes, then arms and legs, miraculously nothing seemed broken.
    “What else was going to happen tonight” she thought to herself. Not one to dwell on things, she started walking up the hill. She knew crying out or sitting there wasn’t going to do her any good. She realized that she had lost a shoe rolling down, took the other one off, carried it in her hand and hobbled back up the hill to where she started. All the while looking for her other shoe, she got up to the top and was hoping to find it where she had tripped.
    She got the phone back out and was using it again to light her way, that’s when she saw it, her shoe, she was so happy, if happy could describe the way she was feeling. But elated that she wouldn’t be walking the rest of the way barefoot. She grabbed the shoe, put both of them on and that is when she distinctly felt a squish in the bottom of the shoe she thought she lost. Not only that, it was too big on her. Her first instinct was to get that shoe off her. Then she realized that it was impossible that her shoe had gotten bigger and full of liquid while she was rolling down the hill. She directed her light at the shoe in her hand and screamed it was full of blood. Then she looked on the ground and realized what she had tripped upon, it was a man, but he was in a dress, with a bad wig on, dead, just plain dead in front of her. She knew that was why the shoe was so big. She dialed 911 and it took ten minutes for her to get the operator to believe her, and to figure out exactly where she was in order for the police to find her.

    Reply
    • Robo Hunter

      I love the situation you have come up with here and the manner of discovery ( via the bank white light of the cell phone) and while preoccupied with the pressing matter of finding her way home. I feel that this could be fleshed out well with this primary concern on its own. Now there’s a body. I think more of a description of the body including more detail on the style of wig and shoes other than that they are big. Also you placed an emphasis on WAS and not branch and not “one of her body parts”. I highlighted this because I think there is room for more dramatic language here; A basic fear that could be explored more. Nice start Laura, keep going.

    • Laura

      Wow, thanks so much, and for being so quick. I will work on it over the weekend.

    • Marietjie van Niekerk

      It amazes me how so many different people can come up with such varied twists and plots with one idea. Very nice Laura

    • Laura

      Thank you so much, would love any feedback on the reworked piece I just submitted!

    • Marietjie van Niekerk

      I’ll check it out and let you know. Would a apreciate any comments on my piece if you scroll down a bit, please? It’s full of grammes and spelling mistakes but anyways…

    • Laura

      I left a couple of comments on your story. Keep working on it, can’t wait to see what happens(ed) Thanks for sharing

    • Marietjie van Niekerk

      I like your style. You have a humoristic way of describing a scary situation. You could perhaps just put a little more meat on the stick? If that makes sense? What happens next?

    • Barbara O'Donnell

      I could sense the humor in this story and I loved it. It’s light and not so severely serious.

    • Rico Elhady

      The best part is how you grab the reader’s attention. In my opinion it is one of the most important points a reader should have. Especially if it’s the first chapter or beginning of a story.
      Another excellent point you did well in, was having the story flow with each other. Usually people can’t get it right. And is the hardest part of the story.

      So, well done. Hope to hear more.

    • pgq

      I
      liked this piece. It flowed and was easy to read. I could have kept going on
      and on if you had written more. It could use some minor editing but the only
      change I can think of is to try putting in more of the other characters, like
      the drunken date or the phone operator. It might or might not make it better.
      In any case I’d recommend: keep writing

  96. Riddhi Patel

    F.E.A.R. fear. Four letters, with very big lesson. Sometimes when you think something wrong is happening to you. You are in fact making that situation up, I do that a lot. That feeling you get when a bad dream controls you. A dream that consists of all your major phobias towards the world. The dream that keeps you awake amongst the nights. A dream, that makes you wonder into the wilderness of your thoughts. The strangling feeling, the feeling that the hells devil will bestow over you and poke its evil red horns through your pumping heart. I hate fears, I hate the idea of it, but without it I wouldn’t be who I am. Without that you wouldn’t be who you are. Sadly, god has not left anyone fearless, including himself, space and time.

    My dream. I woke up sweating, or unless I was awake amidst of my nightmare-ish wonderland. I don’t know what to call it, I just, sighs, don’t. I was awake. In the bus. Going stop-by-stop and then the harbour bridge comes by, my heart slows down, or goes faster? I can’t hear it, I struggle to hear what pace my heart goes in. so, I do the only thing I can. Look in the front, at a bunch of other hairs, sitting peacefully as I squirm for comfort. I was battling with my inner consciousness. Battling with the imagination the bus might fall off the bridge at such a height, but I refrained myself. “I can do this, I can go through this nerve wrecking time of my everyday life. I should be used to it.” I chant in my already worked up head. Then I gazed forward looking at the still peaceful hairs or at least that’s what I thought. Until my imagination swarmed further into the deep ends and turned the hairs into a gigantic bunch of mini spiders, coming towards me. I shuffle in an unnerving manner. I should be used to it, the bridge, the imagination, the life as a bus rider. But looking at me at the current stage, I can presumably agree to the fact I am not. Only, I still let my fears take the best of me.

    Reply
  97. Laura

    I reworked my original story a bit. Not sure to end it here, or continue on and solved the crime or at least find out the victim was? Anyone have an opinion?

    How stupid is this she thought to herself? Why did she ever get out of the car? She knew the answer it was because that loud mouth jerk she had been out with was dead drunk. Taking her chances walking seemed liked the better idea. Until now that was, she hated walking through the woods. She wasn’t afraid, it was a mess, and these amazing black patent leather shoes she found on sale were getting ruined. It wasn’t easy walking in them either, every time she took a step, her heel sunk into a hole. A farmer could follow her around and plant seeds in the holes that she was making. He could have a bumper crop by spring.

    The fact that she was wearing a skirt didn’t help matters either; her stockings were torn to shreds. She was combating the darkness by holding up her iPhone and using it as a flashlight. She then she tripped over something, must have been a log, but whatever it was, she tripped, fell and was on a down grade, she tumbled ass over tea kettle, every time she heard a cracking of a twig or branch, rolling crack, rolling crack, it seemed she was falling in slow motion. She prayed that every time she heard a crack, she prayed it was a branch and not one of her body parts. She held onto that phone for dear life though. She had a feeling she might need to call for help. Just as quickly has she started rolling down the hill, she stopped. The ground had leveled out. She put her phone in her pocket and slowly started to feel where she hurt. She wiggled fingers, toes, then arms and legs, miraculously nothing seemed broken.

    “What else was going to happen tonight?” she thought to herself. Not one to dwell on things, she hobbled up the hill. She knew crying out or sitting there wasn’t going to do her any good. She realized that she had lost a shoe rolling down, took the other one off, carried it in her hand and hobbled back up the hill to where she started. All the while looking for her other shoe, she got up to the top and was hoping to find it where she had tripped.

    She got the phone back out and was using it again to light her way, that’s when she saw it, her shoe, she was so happy, if happy could describe the way she was feeling. But elated that she wouldn’t be walking the rest of the way barefoot. She grabbed the shoe, put both of them on and that is when she distinctly felt a squish in the bottom of the shoe she thought she lost. Not only that, it was too big on her, how was that possible, she grabbed the shoe off her foot, how was it possible that the shoe had gotten bigger and full of liquid? She directed her light at the shoe in her hand, it was full of blood. Then she looked on the ground and realized what she had tripped upon, it was a man, a dead man.

    She dialed 911, gave the dispatcher her badge number and name as identification. It took a few minutes to explain where she was so that they could find her. She told if the responding officers get lost, try to ping her phone for her location.

    She said, “Marge, can you have whoever responds to the call bring me some clothes, the clothes I’m wearing got ruined out in the here and the coroner may need them as evidence. I literally tripped over the body.”

    “Sure thing Detective, someone will be there as soon as possible, just sit tight”

    “Sit tight” Sounded like that was all she could do, she walked over to a tree stump and sat down. Careful not to mess up the scene any more then she already had. Using her phone she started taking notes with her phone, it kept her busy and she wanted to get these things down while they were fresh in her mind. From her angle she could see that he was in a dress, a black sequined dress with a red and gold flaming phoenix on it. It was a gorgeous dress, from what she could see. Then she saw his wig, it was a bad wig, but how could he go with such a frightful wig, it did nothing for his ensemble. That sounded so insensitive even when she heard herself think it in her head, but it was just so odd. It stuck out in her mind. She had an aunt that owned a wig shop and her Aunt told many stories over the holidays about her variety of clients. Cancer patients, bored housewives needing the spice of their home life and some of them were men that dressed in drag. This with though was nothing like the one those men ordered. Her Aunt always said that the wig and makeup seemed like an extremely important part when they were putting together an outfit. This wig was nothing like the ones those men ordered, it was a bad Halloween costume wig, bad blond and stringy.

    That wasn’t the only thing that she was thinking about. It was hard enough being the new detective on the force, but if the story came out that she had been on a blind date, the squad would be kidding her for months.

    Finally she saw the squad car followed closely by the coroners truck. “Great she thought to herself, they would have to send Marshall on this call.” A tall clean shaven deputy got out of the car followed by a plain clothes officer with a bag in his hand. “Hey Detective Burns, here are the clothes you asked for, then he asked with a grin, what, nothing to do tonight? So bored in the new town that you had to go into the woods searching for work”?

    She just grabbed the bag out of his hands, and said “Funny Marshall, start processing the crime scene, I’ll change in the coroners van, they can bag the clothes I’m wearing for evidence processing.”

    It took hours to gather all the evidence, but finally everything had been collected and the victim was on his way to the morgue. There had been no ID on the body, so there was nothing that they could do until they coroner hopefully to ID him through fingerprints or dental records.

    She had them drive her home and took a long hot shower, she stayed in that shower until her fingers were all pruny, she slid down the wall of the shower and sat in the tub letting the water run over her till she felt clean and relaxed enough to slip into her bed. She didn’t even turn a light on, she felt her way in the dark, felt the cool crisp sheets, her head hit the pillow. She didn’t even remember the exact point that she fell asleep.

    Suddenly her alarm was going off, “can’t be” she thought to herself, but it was, it was time to get up and try to figure out what happened last night in the woods to that poor man.

    Reply
  98. Lily

    The child felt from the bike. Again.
    Tragic, right? This boy is already eleven and he still cannot ride a bike.
    -I’m not trying to ride that… thing again. Never again.-
    -It’s a bike, my love; – her mother said. – and I know you can do it. Retry!- Her mother was lovely and she would give her life to save her child’s.
    -But, mum! I’ve already tried five times!-
    -And why you don’t want to retry again?-
    -Because it’s difficult! And it hurts!- he answered, showing his redden knee.
    -Oh, my love,- she said, -it is nothing. I know you can try one last time. Do you believe me darling?-
    -Yup, mommy, I believe you. I’ll try again.-
    So he jumped on the bike, and the tried another, last time. He started moving the pedals, and he tried to not fall off.
    And he did it! OMG, he did it! He’s riding a bike!
    -mum, look! I can ride a bike now!- the boy screamed happily.
    He was so excided that he got off the bike and runned to her mother arms, while secretly his father was taking a photos of the two hugging tighly.

    This was the last time he ever hugged her mother. Because suddendly a light made its apperance and it killed her mother and, mysteriously, not him.

    Her mother was kind and lovely, and all it remains is a photos took by his dad.
    The same boy, now a twelve years old man, was looking at that same, ruined photo.
    He was at the cemetery, in front of her mother’s tomb.
    -Happy mother’s day, mummy.- he whispered, remembering that instants made of gold immortalized in that piece of paper. -Happy mother’s day.-

    This is my first practice. Sorry for any orthographic errors, I’m not a native language speaker.

    Reply
  99. Robo Hunter

    The Body

    ‘Emily.’ He’d said and it would be the last thing that Thomas
    Lassiter would ever say. The name escaped from his lips after much
    effort as he lay dying on the forest floor. His last thoughts came in
    silent images. Memories of his youth sun-flashed and faded in his
    mind that blurred trying to remember the evening just gone. He could
    remember his parents and his first Christmas. He remembered his wife,
    her round face smiling as she offered him some wine. “ Drink my
    love ” she had said. But he had no idea how he had got here. He
    had tried to see if he was near a path but he could not move at all.
    He thought of how he had never liked the woods at night and it had
    been a childhood fear that he’d never really shaken off. Everyone
    knew the devil came to get you at night if you were lost in the
    woods. He would never let the kids go near them after six pm because
    of his insistence they were dangerous. Now it seems he was to be
    crushed under the weight of heavy irony as he lay staring at the
    clear night sky between the ranging branches. He saw how the night
    was not so dark or lonely up there. A million pristine suns lit up
    silent eternity and the immaculate white light of those stars could
    reach down from heaven into this darkness. So beautiful, he thought.
    Real darkness, encroached by inches on him down here. He knew he was
    dying. The lifeline holding him together had been cut and how easily
    he’d rolled out .He remembered how he had seen himself, yesterday, in
    the hall mirror as if for the first time. He’d argued with his wife
    that evening, a terrible row where things had been said at long last.
    He had gazed into the mirror and had really seen himself after
    thirty-seven years. The grief had made its mark. He allowed the
    mirrored truth of himself to settle. He was the other side of time
    now and as old as his own father had been when he had gone. He really
    did have his daddy’s eyes after all. Then, he cried like a baby. Now
    his dry tongue, dystonic in desperate movement, tasted air for the
    last time. He watched the stars and he wondered as he wished and then
    he whispered, ‘Emily.’ For three days his body lay there. His eyes,
    seeing no more, were visited, as was his gaping mouth, by glistening
    teams of bugs and flies that gathered in humming clouds and larger
    creatures that skittered in and out. The dilatory action of decay
    began. His body, becoming purple and swollen with gas, finally burst
    on that last morning. This was the body that a girl of ten years old
    named Abigail found. She had seen it for all of twenty seconds. The
    memory would last her whole life. It would always catch up with her
    and usually in suffocating dreams. As she ran crying, she was sure
    the dead man was close behind her. He was boiling with maggots and so
    close she could smell the decomposition racing away in his lolling
    head. She had sobbed out her discovery to her foster parents through
    stinging tears and then through white faced shock to the police.
    Everyone called her Abby. It was some years later that she found that
    Abigail was her middle name. Her birth parents had first named her
    Emily.

    Reply
  100. Robo Hunter

    I missed the chance to enter the competition but here is my In the Hole story for what it is worth

    Reply
  101. Robo Hunter

    In the
    Hole

    Ray Bagley made a wish. He looked down. Nothing had changed. He was
    deep in it. He had to stifle the urge to gulp. He wanted to reach up
    to his brow and swipe at the little drop of perspiration tickling at
    his skin. Outside, hurricane Irene tried at the window seals and the
    door frames, and the whole pier seemed to sway with the wind. The
    light fitting above the table with its little brass cherubs swung in
    small movements making shadows wave and nod in quick time. Near
    enough three grand in large size notes lay in the middle of the
    table. In the pile, a set of car keys lay out of reach too. They were
    his. He needed to bluff this like a pro or he was going to be so far
    in the hole he would never get out. He had a three and a seven of
    clubs. It was all high-end Diamonds in the turn. Not so much as a
    twitch could be afforded. To his left, the bulk that was Detective
    Inspector Jerry ( Big J) Collins C.I.D (Ret) set down his Davidoff
    Cigar and blew thick cloud of white smoke into the middle of the
    table. To his right, the circumspect Sgt. Tony Anders (Ret) or Popey
    as he was called rearranged his chips. He was an original from
    Jerry’s class of 86. The late Superintendent Charmers; God rest his
    soul, had remarked that Anders looked like Pius XII especially with
    his thick lenses. Desk sergeants from all over Kent constabulary
    referred to him as “Popey” ever after. Front left on the other
    side of the round gaming table was D.C Kevin Lederer. Thirty-five and
    lean-hungry for the chase, he sat next to the empty chair of D.C
    James Porter. Porter was otherwise engaged and had been so for nearly
    five minutes. He was holding up the game and prolonging the agony for
    one Detective sergeant holding out like the Alamo in the face of
    certain annihilation. If he didn’t get his money back he may be
    looking at losing the house and continuing the investigation of the
    missing Dartnell brothers, from a friends couch. Big Jerry re-lit his
    Grand Cru and waved out the match in three rapid strokes. Eighteen
    games of poker had proven that this signified not a blessed thing.
    Win or lose, Big J had to have his stogie. Big J, however, was not
    known for his patience. ‘ Porter! He yelled. Get your arse in ere
    boy!. There was no answer from the toilets. They were off to the left
    beyond the antique and now silent One Arm Bandits and the motionless
    figurine of Ahmed the teller of fortunes in his glass case. With his
    thread-bare and dulled red turban, he was as old as the pier that had
    been built in 1851. His painted fire eyes stared down blindly
    awaiting one more seeker of fortune. After Ahmed were the bat-wing
    doors leading to the rest-rooms. There was only a single bulb
    lighting the way there and the rest of the pier, closed for the
    Winter, remained in darkness. C.I.D had been playing poker here since
    time out of mind. Big J and Popey were the only two left of the
    original crew. ‘ What’ve you got Big J, a couple of aces? Asked
    Kevin, leaning over his own cards. ‘I know what I have is gathering
    dust, Kevin. Porter! Ray wondered if Porter had a couple of duds but
    just couldn’t fold. He was the dealer and quite happy with Popey’s
    small blind. Ray had put up as did the others. They had got the turn
    and Ray had seen a small glimmer of hope but then Porter, who had
    been looking peaky all evening had then excused himself rather
    sharpish. Big J had tried to stop him, saying that the game needed to
    be finished but Porter had bolted shouting that the turtles head was
    poking out. They had all laughed but as they listened to that
    hurricane out there screaming at the whole coast, the tension ramped
    up. They waited. Ray listened to the waves beat against the iron
    supports. A hollow moan in d-minor reverberated sounding like
    inevitability. Ray wondered why he had to risk everything on the turn
    of a card. He had one broken marriage because of it and now hell
    sounded like it was coming for the rest of him. ‘ I think the ghost
    must have got him’. Said Popey. Kevin and J looked at him. ‘ You
    what? Asked Kevin leaning on his cards again. ‘ The ghost, you know,
    of Emily Blake’. Big J was thoughtful for a moment. ‘ You’re not
    talking about the women who jumped off the end of the pier are yer?

    ‘ Yes, the very same. In the Winter of Nineteen O three. They reckon
    that, now and then, she is seen by people who have made their money
    through wicked ways. Others say that they don’t see her but are
    suddenly lucky on the fruit machines or get a win on the roulette
    table’.

    ‘ You do come out with some old twaddle’ said Big J wedging the cigar
    back into his mouth. ‘ I assure you it is true’ said Popey removing
    his thick lenses. Again, this was significant of nothing as far as
    his game was concerned, and he began to clean them with his
    handkerchief. ‘ Mickey the fence saw her. He was making a tidy profit
    here for years but then one day he upped and left without a backward
    glance. Scared him stupid. He moved to Sittingbourne and has been a
    recluse ever since’. He replaced the glasses like he had made his
    case for the defence and was letting it rest on that witness alone. ‘
    Bollocks’ muttered Big J. ‘ Well, that’s what I got from him and even
    his rivals ‘ Popey said and smiled an unreadable smile.

    ‘ Porter’s a cheating bastard. I’ll bet he’s been scared to death on
    the lav.’ said Kevin picking up his phone. After a few moments of
    prodding at the screen, he said ‘Here it is. Ms Emily Blake of London
    Road died after throwing herself off the Pier at Margate. She was
    found after approximately three days in the water. The body had been
    severely disfigured by the time they got her out of the water.
    February the twenty-eighth……today. A great gust lifted the roof
    and made the door to the promenade shake and rattle violently. Ray
    felt the skin tighten on his head. For a moment he dared imagine
    seeing a figure on the board-walk beyond the door or face at the
    window. The face of a woman, her bifurcated flesh after three days in
    the formless dark, white and hanging. There was another long
    reverberating sound of monstrous waves crashing into the uprights. ‘
    Kevin, go and see what’s the matter, would you? Asked Big J resting
    the remainder of his cigar. He made a sideways glance at Ray. ‘
    You’re not about to shit your brains out as well are you
    Baggers? Ray felt himself slip further down into the hole. He had no
    chance of stealing the blind now. He would have to fold and resign
    himself to his dark fate. Maybe. Maybe he could just as easily die
    owing and simply bet all he had left and go all the way down into the
    pit. He looked towards the door and wondered. If it came to it, would
    he take what was left of his train wreck of a life and walk out and
    then over the guard rail and down to the depths?. The thought even
    comforted him for a moment. Ray and Emily, floating in the sea,
    R.O.T.T.I.N.G. From the left, beyond the bat-wing doors they
    heard Kevin cry out. ‘ Oh my God! He emerged holding a hand up to his
    mouth. His head moving from side to side, he seemed to stagger.
    Behind him, a white face appeared. ‘ Oh, my dear God! Kevin went on ‘
    That stinks! Porter sheepishly resumed his seat. ‘ I think I have
    destroyed the plumbing boys, sorry.’ His face paled even more under
    the lamp light as he picked up his cards. ‘ You make me wanna spit,
    Porter! Jerry shouted waving the air in-front of his face. Porter
    ignored that and dealt a card from the top. They were in the river
    with a King of diamonds. He placed a bet and threw in another three
    hundred in. Kevin folded and Big J chucked his cards into the pile.
    Popey saw Kevin’s bet showed his two pair of tens. Ray felt dizziness
    begin to overtake him. The pier rocked with the storm as another
    hysterical shriek of gale force wind battered the land. The little
    brass cherubs, loves young dream, smiled their heartless smile.
    Porter suddenly showed his own cards. Two pair of Kings. ‘ You little
    sod’ cried Big J. ‘ You spend half the night on the lav and then come
    out here with a pair of kings? Ray stood up shakily. The room seemed
    to swim in his vision and he thought he may pass out or throw up. The
    door beckoned. He looked down and saw a Jack of diamonds and then
    sliding the bottom card into view saw that was the Queen under there.
    For a moment the wind dropped as if the storm itself had caught its
    breath and there was just silence. Then, ‘You saucy sod, Big J
    uttered in disbelief. Kevin and Porters mouths gaped as Ray suddenly
    punched the air. ‘ Thank you Emily you beauty! he yelled grabbing at
    the cash and chips. Popey smiled. Jerry spat.

    Reply
  102. Robo Hunter

    The body

    ‘Emily.’ He’d said and it would be the last thing that Thomas
    Lassiter would ever say. The name escaped from his lips after much
    effort as he lay dying on the forest floor. His last thoughts came in
    silent images. Memories of his youth sun-flashed and faded in his
    mind that blurred trying to remember the evening just gone. He could
    remember his parents and his first Christmas. He remembered his wife,
    her round face smiling as she offered him some wine. “ Drink my
    love ” she had said. But he had no idea how he had got here. He’d
    argued with his wife that evening, a terrible row where things had
    been said at long last. He had tried to see if he was near a path but
    he could not move at all. He thought of how he had never liked the
    woods at night and it had been a childhood fear that he’d never
    really shaken off. Everyone knew the devil came to get you at night
    if you were lost in the woods. He would never let the kids go near
    them after six pm because of his insistence they were dangerous. Now
    it seems he was to be crushed under the weight of heavy irony as he
    lay staring at the clear night sky between the ranging branches. He
    saw how the night was not so dark or lonely up there. A million
    pristine suns lit up silent eternity and the immaculate white light
    of those stars could reach down from heaven into this darkness. So
    beautiful, he thought. Real darkness, encroached by inches on him
    down here. He knew he was dying. He could not anything; not even the
    cold. The lifeline holding him together had been cut and how easily
    he’d rolled out .He remembered how he had seen himself, yesterday, in
    the hall mirror as if for the first time. He had gazed into the
    mirror and had really seen himself after thirty-seven years. The
    grief had made its mark. He allowed the mirrored truth to settle. He
    was the other side of time now and as old as his own father had been
    when he had gone. He really did have his daddy’s eyes after all.
    Then, he cried like a baby. Now his dry tongue, dystonic in desperate
    movement, tasted air for the last time. He watched the stars and he
    wondered as he wished and then he whispered, ‘Emily.’

    For three days his body lay there. His eyes, seeing no more, were
    visited, as was his gaping mouth, by glistening teams of bugs and
    flies that gathered in humming clouds and larger creatures that
    skittered in and out. The dilatory action of decay began. His body,
    becoming purple and swollen with gas, finally burst on that last
    morning. This was the body that a girl of ten years old named Abigail
    found. She had seen it for all of twenty seconds. The memory would
    last her whole life. It would always catch up with her and usually in
    suffocating dreams. As she ran crying, she was sure the dead man was
    close behind her. He was boiling with maggots and so close she could
    smell the decomposition racing away in his lolling head. She had
    sobbed out her discovery to her foster parents through stinging tears
    and then through white faced shock to the police. Everyone called her
    Abby. It was some years later that she found that Abigail was her
    middle name. Her birth parents had first named her Emily.

    Reply
  103. Robo Hunter

    In the
    Hole

    Ray Bagley made a wish. He looked down. Nothing had changed. He was
    deep in it. He had to stifle the urge to gulp. He wanted to reach up
    to his brow and swipe at the little drop of perspiration tickling at
    his skin. Outside, hurricane Irene tried at the window seals and the
    door frames, and the whole pier seemed to sway with the wind. The
    light fitting above the table with its little brass cherubs swung in
    small movements making shadows wave and nod in quick time. Near
    enough three grand in large size notes lay in the middle of the
    table. In the pile, a set of car keys lay out of reach too. They were
    his. He needed to bluff this like a pro or he was going to be so far
    in the hole he would never get out. He had a three and a seven of
    clubs. It was all high-end Diamonds in the turn. Not so much as a
    twitch could be afforded. To his left, the bulk that was Detective
    Inspector Jerry ( Big J) Collins C.I.D (Ret) set down his Davidoff
    Cigar and blew thick cloud of white smoke into the middle of the
    table. To his right, the circumspect Sgt. Tony Anders (Ret) or Popey
    as he was called rearranged his chips. He was an original from
    Jerry’s class of 86. The late Superintendent Charmers; God rest his
    soul, had remarked that Anders looked like Pius XII especially with
    his thick lenses. Desk sergeants from all over Kent constabulary
    referred to him as “Popey” ever after. Front left on the other
    side of the round gaming table was D.C Kevin Lederer. Thirty-five and
    lean-hungry for the chase, he sat next to the empty chair of D.C
    James Porter. Porter was otherwise engaged and had been so for nearly
    five minutes. He was holding up the game and prolonging the agony for
    one Detective sergeant holding out like the Alamo in the face of
    certain annihilation. If he didn’t get his money back he may be
    looking at losing the house and continuing the investigation of the
    missing Dartnell brothers, from a friends couch. Big Jerry re-lit his
    Grand Cru and waved out the match in three rapid strokes. Eighteen
    games of poker had proven that this signified not a blessed thing.
    Win or lose, Big J had to have his stogie. Big J, however, was not
    known for his patience. ‘ Porter! He yelled. Get your arse in ere
    boy!. There was no answer from the toilets. They were off to the left
    beyond the antique and now silent One Arm Bandits and the motionless
    figurine of Ahmed the teller of fortunes in his glass case. With his
    thread-bare and dulled red turban, he was as old as the pier that had
    been built in 1851. His painted fire eyes stared down blindly
    awaiting one more seeker of fortune. After Ahmed were the bat-wing
    doors leading to the rest-rooms. There was only a single bulb
    lighting the way there and the rest of the pier, closed for the
    Winter, remained in darkness. C.I.D had been playing poker here since
    time out of mind. Big J and Popey were the only two left of the
    original crew. ‘ What’ve you got Big J, a couple of aces? Asked
    Kevin, leaning over his own cards. ‘I know what I have is gathering
    dust, Kevin. Porter! Ray wondered if Porter had a couple of duds but
    just couldn’t fold. He was the dealer and quite happy with Popey’s
    small blind. Ray had put up as did the others. They had got the turn
    and Ray had seen a small glimmer of hope but then Porter, who had
    been looking peaky all evening had then excused himself rather
    sharpish. Big J had tried to stop him, saying that the game needed to
    be finished but Porter had bolted shouting that the turtles head was
    poking out. They had all laughed but as they listened to that
    hurricane out there screaming at the whole coast, the tension ramped
    up. They waited. Ray listened to the waves beat against the iron
    supports. A hollow moan in d-minor reverberated sounding like
    inevitability. Ray wondered why he had to risk everything on the turn
    of a card. He had one broken marriage because of it and now hell
    sounded like it was coming for the rest of him. ‘ I think the ghost
    must have got him’. Said Popey. Kevin and J looked at him. ‘ You
    what? Asked Kevin leaning on his cards again. ‘ The ghost, you know,
    of Emily Blake’. Big J was thoughtful for a moment. ‘ You’re not
    talking about the women who jumped off the end of the pier are yer?

    ‘ Yes, the very same. In the Winter of Nineteen O three. They reckon
    that, now and then, she is seen by people who have made their money
    through wicked ways. Others say that they don’t see her but are
    suddenly lucky on the fruit machines or get a win on the roulette
    table’.

    ‘ You do come out with some old twaddle’ said Big J wedging the cigar
    back into his mouth. ‘ I assure you it is true’ said Popey removing
    his thick lenses. Again, this was significant of nothing as far as
    his game was concerned, and he began to clean them with his
    handkerchief. ‘ Mickey the fence saw her. He was making a tidy profit
    here for years but then one day he upped and left without a backward
    glance. Scared him stupid. He moved to Sittingbourne and has been a
    recluse ever since’. He replaced the glasses like he had made his
    case for the defence and was letting it rest on that witness alone. ‘
    Bollocks’ muttered Big J. ‘ Well, that’s what I got from him and even
    his rivals ‘ Popey said and smiled an unreadable smile.

    ‘ Porter’s a cheating bastard. I’ll bet he’s been scared to death on
    the lav.’ said Kevin picking up his phone. After a few moments of
    prodding at the screen, he said ‘Here it is. Ms Emily Blake of London
    Road died after throwing herself off the Pier at Margate. She was
    found after approximately three days in the water. The body had been
    severely disfigured by the time they got her out of the water.
    February the twenty-eighth……today. A great gust lifted the roof
    and made the door to the promenade shake and rattle violently. Ray
    felt the skin tighten on his head. For a moment he dared imagine
    seeing a figure on the board-walk beyond the door or face at the
    window. The face of a woman, her bifurcated flesh after three days in
    the formless dark, white and hanging. There was another long
    reverberating sound of monstrous waves crashing into the uprights. ‘
    Any witnesses?

    ‘Dunno J.’ Husband said she was tired of life. He got her money.’

    ‘Oh yeah? I would have sent you and Ray here down to see if he wanted
    amened his statement.’ There was a sound like thunder or even
    breaking timber to the gathered few as another gust shook the
    building. ‘Kevin, go and see what’s the matter, would you? Asked Big
    J resting the remainder of his cigar. He made a sideways glance at
    Ray. ‘ You’re not about to shit your brains out as well are
    you Baggers? Ray felt himself slip further down into the hole. He had
    no chance of stealing the blind now. He would have to fold and resign
    himself to his dark fate. Maybe. Maybe he could just as easily die
    owing and simply bet all he had left and go all the way down into the
    pit. He looked towards the door and wondered. If it came to it, would
    he take what was left of his train wreck of a life and walk out and
    then over the guard rail and down to the depths?. The thought even
    comforted him for a moment. Ray and Emily, floating in the sea,
    R.O.T.T.I.N.G. From the left, beyond the bat-wing doors they
    heard Kevin cry out. ‘ Oh my God! He emerged holding a hand up to his
    mouth. His head moving from side to side, he seemed to stagger.
    Behind him, a white face appeared. ‘ Oh, my dear God! Kevin went on ‘
    That stinks! Porter sheepishly resumed his seat. ‘ I think I have
    destroyed the plumbing boys, sorry.’ His face paled even more under
    the lamp light as he picked up his cards. ‘ You make me wanna spit,
    Porter! Jerry shouted waving the air in-front of his face. Porter
    ignored that and dealt a card from the top. They were in the river
    with a King of diamonds. He placed a bet and threw in another three
    hundred in. Kevin folded and Big J chucked his cards into the pile.
    Popey saw Kevin’s bet showed his two pair of tens. Ray felt dizziness
    begin to overtake him. The pier rocked with the storm as another
    hysterical shriek of gale force wind battered the land. The little
    brass cherubs, loves young dream, smiled their heartless smile.
    Porter suddenly showed his own cards. Two pair of Kings. ‘ You little
    sod’ cried Big J. ‘ You spend half the night on the lav and then come
    out here with a pair of kings? Ray stood up shakily. The room seemed
    to swim in his vision and he thought he may pass out or throw up. The
    door beckoned. He looked down and saw a Jack of diamonds and then
    sliding the bottom card into view saw that was the Queen under there.
    For a moment the wind dropped as if the storm itself had caught its
    breath and there was just silence. Then, ‘You saucy sod, Big J
    uttered in disbelief. Kevin and Porters mouths gaped as Ray suddenly
    punched the air. ‘ Thank you Emily you beauty! he yelled grabbing at
    the cash and chips. Popey smiled. Jerry spat.

    Reply
  104. Marietjie van Niekerk

    The first thing I could get my mind to focus on was the screams. It came in high pitch waves of sound that made me feel sick to my stomach. It swirled around me, filling every open space, until
    it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Darkness swept over me like water falling from a cloudburst. I fought the ripples, like someone fighting to claw he’s way out of a dark hole. I threw my head back, in an attempt to get air into my lungs.The action knocked me of balance and I fell to my knees.

    My knee hit a rock and the searing pain, brought me back out of the dreaded darkness. It evaporated like a cloud of white smoke. My throat felt sore, hoarse and dry. Swallowing is a painful
    deed. The screams subsided. The screams were my own.

    A squeaking sound drew my attention and that was when I saw it again. The screams threatened to start up again and I swallowed hard at the bile rising in my throat. A body, suspended in mid-air
    swung to and fro, to and fro. It was tied to an overhead branch. Ants were crawling up his legs and all over his chest. There was a large gaping hole with half his intestines spilled out. Some unknown critter game out his nose and his eye sockets were just hollow cavities.

    In the distance I heard the yelping of excited dogs. Voices too faint to make out what was being said, drifted closer on the breeze. I have to get away. I don’t want to end up like this
    corpse dangling in front of me. This is not how I want to die. I need to camouflage my sent. I tried to remember how to do it, but my brain is just a black piece of nothing. “Think!!” I told myself. I lifted my hands to my temples. ‘’Think!!

    I passed a stream earlier. If I could double back, the water might provide a little safety. Instead of going forward, as they think I’ll do, maybe I can try and find my way back to the compound.
    Maybe I can find a phone there, or even a weapon. If I can only find my way back in these God forsaken woods.

    Reply
    • Laura

      The start of this story is captivating. I wish there was a way for me to highlight the text or change the colors, it would read more fluidly if the grammar and tense were fixed. It is scary and full of creativity, but as an example, the first line

      “The first thing I could get my mind to focus on was the screams. It came in high pitch waves of sound that made me feel sick to my stomach.”

      Should read more like this : The first thing I could get my mind to focus on were the screams. They came in high pitch waves of sound making me feel sick to my stomach” Good luck with the story, hope to read more of it.

  105. jojo

    PROLOGUE
    The devil told us his name. It was Amersian Dakmon. He lived in the depths of the earth where there was only darkness and death. He had taken and killed our family and friends, now we were back to give him a taste of his own medicine.

    PART 1 OF 3

    STRIKE 1

    My name is Eden, I am 13 years old and I am victim number 1.
    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
    “Aaaaaaahh!!”
    Two years ago I was reading in my room when I heard a bloodcurdling scream. I ran as fast as my panicked legs could. When I got to the dark living room there was a trail of red, oozing blood leading outside. Creek!! Went the door as I waited to see what horror my eyes were about to witness. There in plain sight was my brother, motionless, on the ground. His eyes were always filled with happiness and love, but now, they were filled with fear and pain.
    I looked around I didn’t see my mom.
    What da flip happened here, I thought.
    Then everything froze.
    All the darkness in the world came together to show me the root of all evil.
    His skin was the color of blood,he had horns, was dressed in a cloak of darkness, you could see the fire behind him, in one hand a black trident, in the other my mom.
    “MOM!!!” I yelled
    “Hahaha.” he laughed in a deep, deep -but I mean like really deep- maniacal laugh. I tried to sound as brave as I could ” What do you want with us?”
    “How pathetic.” He leaned over and said in a mocking voice” You think you’re so brave?”
    “I am not afraid of you…you…evil monster,” I said with fear. He pulled my shirt and made me rise in the air “You must follow my orders or you and your mom will be joining your brother. Hahahaha”.
    “Don’t do it!” My mom pleaded “How am I suppose to something I have no idea about?!” I screamed.
    “Oh really?” He snickered “Well, let me tell you what I want you to do. I want you ……..to bring me the Scriptures of Wonders.
    “What da wha?” I said perplexed.
    “I said the Scriptures of Wonders.” The devil said.
    “Ok. I’m suppose to get a book that I have no idea where it is, what it does, and how to get it. Well I think this is going to be fun.” I said sarcastically.
    “If I knew where it is do you think I would be asking you?” he said.
    “Maybe,” I responded
    “Whatever. Find it. Or you die. Hahaha,” he cackled as he disappeared -along with my mom-into smoke.

    STRIKE 2

    My name is Essence, I am 16 years old and I am victim #2.
    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
    It happened last year on May 27 while my best friend and I went for a walk in the forest. Marcus was commenting on the cardinal birds when he abruptly stopped.
    “Come on man, what happened? Cat caught your tongue? Haha.” I laughed.
    Eerie Silence.
    “Dude it was supposed to be a joke.” I turned around. Nothing, all that was there was empty space. “Marcus! Marcus! This isn’t funny.” I yelled. Where could he have gone, I thought. “Ey…sence!!! He…lp!!!” said a faint but helpless voice. I ran and ran into the direction of the voice. I was now in the outskirts of the forest and I could clearly see there he was being held by someone familiar.
    “What do we have here? Well isn’t it Eysence Worth. Having a walk in the forest I see? Hahaha.” He said mockingly.
    “Not AGAIN!!! Really? Why do you keep appearing?” I yelled my lungs out.
    “What’s wrong Mr. Worth? Can’t I come for a visit?” He said in a whiny voice.
    “Of course you can. I always enjoy our quality time together.” I said sarcastically.
    Not.
    “Well I’m not here for some ‘quality time,’ boy. He said in a voice that will make your body shake.
    I shook.
    “So, what do you want?” I said, confused, I mean, it’s not like I’m a mind reader.
    “You know EXACTLY what I want.” He said staring at me in the eye.
    What did he want? Wait, could it be?
    “No it…it can’t be. I won’t do it” I said nervously
    “Oh I’m sure you will.”
    “Ginshi lamuq pon!!”
    As he recited the enchantment I looked at Marcus terrified.
    He was turning a sickish green, wrinkles were appearing, and in some parts his skin was falling off. His eyes told me he pain he was passing through.
    At last he fell onto the fresh grass.
    “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!!”
    I cried
    “Will you do it!! Will you do what I want” he said steadily
    “Sniff. Fine…I will do what you want, but once I do it you have to heal Marcus.” I said with no fear. After seeing what happened to Marcus I have no fear. As long as I can help Marcus, I will do anything.
    “I knew that would do the trick. Hahaha!! If you don’t do it I will kill you and everybody you love” he growled
    I might have been wrong, I’m still scared.
    “Ok. Where do I start” I said asked.
    “I don’t know, just start somewhere” he shrugged.
    “Really?” I said impatiently.
    “Get it or face the consequences. Hahaha!!” He cackled.
    Suddenly he vanished like a magician.
    I stood there in ignorant bliss. Then I remembered…
    “Marcus!! ” I ran to his side.
    “Eysence” he said in a weak voice.
    “Yes buddy” I said trembling.
    “Find Strike 3” with those words he fell into a deep sleep.

    STRIKE 3

    Our names are Irena and Vlyad, we are 11 years old and we are victims #3 and #4.
    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
    We were in Mr. Athens’ class. Then the overhead speaker roared “Irena and Vlyad please report to the office. Irena and Vlyad please report to the office.” When the overhead speaker finished, immediately all the heads in the room turned. We just sat there thinking why we were being called.
    “Well don’t just sit there go to the office” Mr. Athens said sternly.
    With that we stood up and speed walked out and Slam!! closed the door. Once we were out we took a deep breath.
    “Vlyad why do you think they called us?” I asked
    “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Every time they call us it’s for something good” He said impatiently.
    “I know it’s just. I got a bad feeling about this one” I whispered.
    “You always say that and nothing ever happens” he whispered back.
    At last I calmed down but I had this weird feeling. I just couldn’t explain it. We kept walking until we reach the office door. We slowly and carefully open the brown, wooden door. Normally there would be some kind of noise in the office but now there was only an unsettling silence.
    “I told you” I said.
    “Shhh” he shushed me.
    “Hello is anybody there?” I said trembling.
    “Come in kids” said a deep deep-but a really deep- voice.
    We slowly tiptoed on the crooked floor.
    Not that we were deeper in we could see a Devil.
    “Sweeeeet. Is there a costume contest? Because if there is that devil costume is totally LIT!” said Vlyad very enthusiastically.
    “Haha. Well my child I’m glad you like my attire. But this isn’t a costume.” He said.
    With that he pick something up from behind the desk and rose it up.
    “Principal Hale!!” we screeched.
    “What happened to him!!!” I hollered
    “Well I might have done a little something ” he said with a smirk.
    “Vlyad…” I started but suddenly everything went black.
    “Ugh” I heard in the distance. I felt something hot on my skin but thought nothing of it at first. The pain became more and more intense, “Ahhh!! Freaking poop!!” I hollered as I immediately awoke. It was the devil’s trident up in smokes, burning my skin.
    “Hahaha” he cackled
    “What are you? What’s happening?” I hear Vlyad as he darts his eyes around.
    “I see you’ve awoken” the devil responds.
    I just glare at him.
    “I am Amersian Dakmon, also know as…. The Devil” he says with a devilish grin.
    “Ahhhhhhhh!!!” we hollered
    “We’re going to die!!”
    “SILENCE!” and with a flick of his hand our mouths zipped.
    “Ummm um uu mu.” says Vlyad
    “Muum umm mmm” I reply
    I turn as the Devil raises his trident to our frightened faces.
    “SHUT UP!”
    We froze…and nod

    Reply
  106. Leon Webb

    Opening line
    When he opened his eyes he knew right away that he was definitely somewhere
    else. Everything was completely unknown it was surreal. And the color it was
    almost as if he was wearing orange tinted glasses. The ground above his feet
    was half a foot deep golden sand and it only got deeper as he staggered
    around disoriented. He caught his balance after franticly darting in every
    direction then stood still. The initial shock soon wore off enough for his brain to
    function properly again.

    Reply
  107. Leon Webb

    When he opened his eyes he knew right away that he was definitely somewhere else. Everything was completely unknown it was surreal. And the colour it was almost as if he was wearing orange tinted glasses. The ground above his feet was half a foot deep golden sand and it only got deeper as he staggered around disoriented. He caught his balance after frantically darting in every direction then stood still. The initial shock soon wore off enough for his brain to function properly again.

    Reply
  108. Icetalon

    I took a deep breath, “your next Heather!” The secretary called, I nodded, and stood up, brushing whatever off my green dress and tightening the ribbons in the back. My shot, I thought, smiling, ignoring the sick feelings in my stomach. “I think I have a nest of butterflies.” I whispered, to myself… Like always. But I have to shake off any nervousness; this was my chance, a chance to become famous.
    I was auditioning for a part in a movie, a movie. I was trying for the part of the star, and the biggest reason they even asked me was because I can do Irish dancing. But I wasn’t the only one going for the part of Iris, I was 1 out of 21, and the only one never to be in a movie. I knew… kinda, how to act, but I am really hoping that my dancing would get me through.
    “Ready, Hope?” The lady was standing at the door, I walked over and smiled, “I hope.” The lady just gestured me and I walked in. I stood in front of three people; they were all sitting at a table. The one on the far right was a man, with jet black and glasses on. “Hello Hope, I’m Michael Web, would you like to start?”
    “Yes, thank you.” At least the beginning would be dancing. The woman in the middle pushed a button and some Irish music started playing. I took a deep breath, and started.
    It’s so easy, I thought, I let the music flow over me, but not taking me completely, I let each step touch the ground with enough weight to making a nice tap, but light enough to let me go to the next smoothly and with ease. My arms were on my side, and still. They weren’t important not now. After about 2 minutes, the music ended. I looked up, not even breathing the slightest bit hard. I’ve been dancing for almost 10 years, I started when I was five, and now I’m practically fifteen. “Good job, Michael said, “Now could you say some lines for us?” “Yes.” I said, trying my best to read his expressions, but I say nothing.
    I held up my paper, and was about to start. “Stop, we want you to read these lines instead.” I gulped. “Okay.”

    Reply
  109. Pilar

    “From Eddie and Linda I learnt to let go. To clean and to make space for new things to come. To try new things, new kinds of foods, no places to go. I learnt that you are never old to say stupid things, or sing or laugh for the silliest things. Every person in your way, is there for a reason. I learnt to give new opportunities and that your are never to old to make new and valuable friendships.”

    Reply
  110. Laura

    I reworked last week’s story, a young woman/man stumbles across a dead body in the woods. Would absolutely love any feedback on it. It went in a direction, I wasn’t suspecting. My question is, do I leave it here, or make it into a longer story?

    How stupid is this she thought to herself? Why did she ever get out of the car? She knew the answer it was because that loud mouth jerk she had been out with was dead drunk. Taking her chances walking seemed liked the better idea. Until now that was, she hated walking through the woods. She wasn’t afraid, it was a mess, and these amazing black patent leather shoes she found on sale were getting ruined. It wasn’t easy walking in them either, every time she took a step, her heel sunk into a hole. A farmer could follow her around and plant seeds in the holes that she was making. He could have a bumper crop by spring.

    The fact that she was wearing a skirt didn’t help matters either; her stockings were torn to shreds. She was combatting the darkness by holding up her iPhone and using it as a flashlight. She then she tripped over something, must have been a log, but whatever it was, she tripped, fell and was on a down grade, she tumbled ass over tea kettle, every time she heard a cracking of a twig or branch, rolling crack, rolling crack, it seemed she was falling in slow motion. She prayed that every time she heard a crack, she prayed it was a branch and not one of her body parts. She held onto that phone for dear life though. She had a feeling she might need to call for help. Just as quickly has she started rolling down the hill, she stopped. The ground had leveled out. She put her phone in her pocket and slowly started to feel where she hurt. She wiggled fingers, toes, then arms and legs, miraculously nothing seemed broken.

    “What else was going to happen tonight?” she thought to herself. Not one to dwell on things, she hobbled up the hill. She knew crying out or sitting there wasn’t going to do her any good. She realized that she had lost a shoe rolling down, took the other one off, carried it in her hand and hobbled back up the hill to where she started. All the while looking for her other shoe, she got up to the top and was hoping to find it where she had tripped.

    She got the phone back out and was using it again to light her way, that’s when she saw it, her shoe, she was so happy, if happy could describe the way she was feeling. But elated that she wouldn’t be walking the rest of the way barefoot. She grabbed the shoe, put both of them on and that is when she distinctly felt a squish in the bottom of the shoe she thought she lost. Not only that, it was too big on her, how was that possible, she grabbed the shoe off her foot, how was it possible that the shoe had gotten bigger and full of liquid? She directed her light at the shoe in her hand, it was full of blood. Then she looked on the ground and realized what she had tripped upon, it was a man, a dead man.

    She dialed 911, gave the dispatcher her badge number and name as identification. It took a few minutes to explain where she was so that they could find her. She told if the responding officers get lost, try to ping her phone for her location.

    She said, “Marge, can you have whoever responds to the call bring me some clothes, the clothes I’m wearing got ruined out in the here and the coroner may need them as evidence. I literally tripped over the body.”

    “Sure thing Detective, someone will be there as soon as possible, just sit tight”

    “Sit tight” Sounded like that was all she could do, she walked over to a tree stump and sat down. Careful not to mess up the scene any more then she already had. Using her phone she started taking notes with her phone, it kept her busy and she wanted to get these things down while they were fresh in her mind. From her angle she could see that he was in a dress, a black sequined dress with a red and gold flaming phoenix on it. It was a gorgeous dress, from what she could see. Then she saw his wig, it was a bad wig, but how could he go with such a frightful wig, it did nothing for his ensemble. That sounded so insensitive even when she heard herself think it in her head, but it was just so odd. It stuck out in her mind. She had an aunt that owned a wig shop and her Aunt told many stories over the holidays about her variety of clients. Cancer patients, bored housewives needing the spice of their home life and some of them were men that dressed in drag. This with though was nothing like the one those men ordered. Her Aunt always said that the wig and makeup seemed like an extremely important part when they were putting together an outfit. This wig was nothing like the ones those men ordered, it was a bad Halloween costume wig, bad blond and stringy.

    That wasn’t the only thing that she was thinking about. It was hard enough being the new detective on the force, but if the story came out that she had been on a blind date, the squad would be kidding her for months.

    Finally she saw the squad car followed closely by the coroners truck. “Great she thought to herself, they would have to send Marshall on this call.” A tall clean shaven deputy got out of the car followed by a plain clothes officer with a bag in his hand. “Hey Detective Burns, here are the clothes you asked for, then he asked with a grin, what, nothing to do tonight? So bored in the new town that you had to go into the woods searching for work”?

    She just grabbed the bag out of his hands, and said “Funny Marshall, start processing the crime scene, I’ll change in the coroners van, they can bag the clothes I’m wearing for evidence processing.”

    It took hours to gather all the evidence, but finally everything had been collected and the victim was on his way to the morgue. There had been no ID on the body, so there was nothing that they could do until they coroner hopefully to ID him through fingerprints or dental records.

    She had them drive her home and took a long hot shower, she stayed in that shower until her fingers were all pruny, she slid down the wall of the shower and sat in the tub letting the water run over her till she felt clean and relaxed enough to slip into her bed. She didn’t even turn a light on, she felt her way in the dark, felt the cool crisp sheets, her head hit the pillow. She didn’t even remember the exact point that she fell asleep.

    Suddenly her alarm was going off, “can’t be” she thought to herself, but it was, it was time to get up and try to figure out what happened last night in the woods to that poor man.

    Reply
  111. Ryan Neave

    As he stands there, just waiting for a customer to come, his eyes are focused steadily, and rather intensely on a fellow cashier. He won’t for a second forget how he got him in trouble earlier. Earlier that day, the co-worker of this man tells their boss that he was talking to a customer, not working. He was working, just making friendly small talk to the customer, because she had some questions about a product she had bought. A lot of workers do that, especially that deal face to face with the customers. During his break, he then explains this to his boss, and that every cashier, not just his co-worker, should get in trouble for what he did earlier that day. Later, the boss calls that man to his office.

    Reply
  112. Guy

    My first 15min essay:
    It is might be the most notable part of my appearance look this days, everyone that knew me before growing it might be overwhelmed when they will see it at the first time. I’m talking of-course about my beard, and particular why it is very good for me to keep growing it.
    Firstly, because shaving consume a lot of time growing a beard is ideal for me to not wasting my time at this regular task at the morning. Secondly, from the aesthetic point of view it makes me look much more manlike in contrast to a my shaved appearance. Thirdly, growing a beard is a sign and message from me to the world that I like myself as savage and I’m the type of guy that breaking convention. In a conclusion, beard has an huge impact on saving my time, increase my muscular appearance, and enrich my message to the world that do not try to mess with me, I’m doing my things my way as I got the option.

    I will appreciate any kind of feedback (syntax, structure, style, vocabulary) thanks!

    Reply
  113. Ryan Neave

    Two female friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time bump into each other on the street. They apparently are very glad to see one another. They decide to get a cup of coffee. The one girl orders coffee, whereas the other orders tea. The coffee drinker has numerous face-piercings, where the tea drinker has a clean, piercing-free face. Coffee has brunette hair, and tea has blonde. Brunette has a rather crude mouth, where blondie is relatively conservative in her conversation with her estranged friend. While they continue to converse, both of them are saying to themselves in their heads “why was I ever friends with this girl.” So maybe they weren’t as happy to see each other as much as they displayed when they ran into one another.

    Reply
  114. Ryan Neave

    A kite is sitting in the hall of a house, leaning right next to the front door. Next, the bright red kite is seen in the bright blue sky. However, the kite is then let go, causing it to spiral off into the trees. The kite is laying on the ground near a tree. A random squirrel comes along and stands on top of it. The kite is then seen being picked up. It is thrown into a garbage can. The next morning, the garbage man comes. He empties the trash can in which the kite is in, and tosses it into the truck. Moments later, he goes in the neighborhood in which the boy who’s kite it was lives, staring out the window. The boy sees him take the trash from his house. He then proceeds to get all of the houses.

    Reply
  115. Katie

    Janelle stopped dead in her tracks. A dead body was in lying in front of her, right in front of the small fort she had made as a small child.
    The body was obviously one of a young woman. Blonde hair soaked with blood was stuck to her forehead. Her neck was slit open in one clean slice. Her wrists were also sliced, and at her mouth, two fangs stuck out of the top of her mouth. The smell was horrid, it smelled like… well, a dead body.
    Janelle felt her hands go up to her head and run through her long thick black hair. She started to walk backwards but tripped on her heels. Yelping, she struggled up and turned around, going as fast as she could.

    Janelle slammed the door behind her and slowly made her way over to the phone, the image of the dead body still in her head. When she grabbed the phone, she was vaguely aware of typing 911 in.
    The voice on the other end sounded desperate. “Hello, you’ve reached 911, what is the problem?”
    Janelle tried to form words but nothing came out except for a squeak.
    “We’re coming right away.”
    The lady on the phone hung up and Janelle and sighed took deep breaths to calm herself down. When 911 arrived, Janelle almost sprinted to the front door, pulling it open. “A body… it… sliced at the neck and….” Janelle shook her head, tears coming to her eyes.
    A man was standing there, listening to her, his eyes widening. “Show me.”
    She closed her eyes and walked outside, feeling vulnerable and afraid. Aware of people following behind her, she began to walk back to the body. Her palms were sweaty and her hair plastered to her head. She knew she still had tears in her eyes, and blood on her from falling over when she saw the body.
    Janelle stopped abruptly and turned around towards the medics and police. “It’s… close by now. I don’t know if I want to go any farther.”
    They didn’t say anything, but pushed past her and marched on, coming closer and closer to finding the body. Janelle knew what was happening before it did. Her eyes got heavy and she started breathing heavily before she passed out, falling out onto the white snow, a dark figure on white.

    Reply
  116. Ganagana patrick

    Can one get lost in a look alike city where he was born? With every road trails, coner store, hills and even the houses numbered exactly in the format of your city. This are my thoughts as i journeyed for adventure, in my look alike birth city.
    My heart beat similar to the tempo of the classic tune being played, as I move slowly, with my hands touching every part of the way, not to miss out on not even the slightest feeling ; like the touch of the hair. My eyes navigate as my hand turn to touch all right My imagination heightened to the clouds, as I made the first stop to touch the silk-hardened texture of the hills, it brought ease to my troubled soul, seeing the emotion caused by this hardened hills.
    My next stop was a dried out lake from whence I could see adventures mixed with pleasure n fear written all over the gate. As I aproach the gate, “have you been here before” I was asked by the invisible gate keeper enclosed in my mind, do you know what happens to most men after coming to this place? These questions keeps reading deep inside of me. It’s was dark and I couldn’t afford to go back, “forward it is” I said to myself, as I decided to go in and have the first-best fun experience of mine life.
    “Are u man enough” the voice said again…. Don’t mess up this place…. *Wink*

    Reply
  117. Guy

    Second day of 15 minutes essay about Hackatons-

    The formal definition of an “Hackaton” is an portmanteau word between “hack”, by means of develop or expand, and “marathon” by means that the activity occurred in limited time but can go far away as an analogy to a long distance.
    The purpose of this activity is to invent or to sprout a technology ideas. The format of the activity is by splitting all the participations into a severals teams and to drive the people who participating in the Hackaton to sharp their ideas and take them to the cutting edge, usually there is a competition between the teams and a prize for the winners.
    For a person who loves technology, create, likes the environment of competition and time pressing, this kind of event is like an heaven.
    To me, after participating in a several of those events, I found it very exiting and educating, because I learn a lot during the event by myself and from the people around me that want to help. Nonetheless, the main emphasize in the event is on developing and demonstration new ideas, It is always a big joy to win in an Hackaton.

    I would like any kind of feedback. Thanks you.

    Reply
  118. Sweedle D'souza

    They fought again. He forgot their anniversary. She spent too much on food and presents.

    He emphasised how important his job is, she emphasised how little time she gets to spend with him.

    He yells, she cries.

    They walk grudgingly on the streets in painful silence.

    Wind blows and the skies roar of thunder. Droplets of rain fall all over. They still keep walking further.

    Now the rain gets heavier and they look around for shelter.

    Nothing in sight, they stand in the rain, getting drenched.

    That’s when they notice a red telephone booth right in front of them. Confused but desperate they get in and watch the rain drop splash harder on the ground.

    She shivers and rubs her hands. He stares at her with guilt and a mounting desire.

    He takes off his coat and wraps it around her shoulders. She bows her head in silence, toying with the coat.

    He cups her chin in his hand and lifts her head so that their eyes meet.

    His eyes plead forgiveness, her eyes plead need and longing for love.

    They keep staring at each other for few seconds, their breathing getting heavier by each passing second.

    He whispers, “I am so sorry baby. Let me make it better “and she nods and whispers back “Please!”

    He wastes no time and touches her lips with his. Their kiss deepens with a raging passion as the thunder silences the sounds of their moans.

    The rains stop and they come out of the booth.

    They are fighting again for some new reason but they keep holding their hands in a tight grasp

    Reply
  119. James M

    Steve had been taking a short cut through the woods after an
    afternoon in the pub with his friends. It wasn’t supposed to have been a long
    session but once the beer started to flow, the idea of going home seemed less
    and less appealing. It was only when he realised that he had run out of money
    and it was starting to get dark that he started to make a move. His friends had
    offered to buy him a few more beers but he needed to get home and try to get
    some sleep before starting work early in the morning.

    The night was cool and crisp as he came outside and he
    zipped the jacket up as far as it would go and pulled his hands into the
    sleeves.

    Satisfied that he was as warm as he was going to be, he set
    off at a fast pace towards the woods. He had lived in the area all of his life
    and played in the woods more times than he could count.

    As always, as soon as he stepped into the woods, the outside
    noise seemed to be deadened by the trees. He relaxed slightly, happy to be away
    from the noise of the pub. As he skirted around a large tree, he heard
    something moving in the undergrowth. He threw a look over his shoulder but
    nothing else moved, shrugging his shoulders he continued on the path.

    A few moments later, there was another noise, a faint
    thrashing noise. This time he stopped, trying to pin point the location. It
    seemed to be coming from over a slight rise to the left of him. He started to
    move off but stopped again. What if it was animal that was injured?

    Surpassing a sigh, he turned towards the noise and scrambled
    up the incline.

    As he reached the top, he twisted his ankle on a loose rock
    and tumbled down the other side, to come face to face with a corpse.

    He screamed and back peddled as fast as his damaged ankle
    would allow him. The pain was intense but he somehow pushed it away and hobbled
    away into the night.

    Reply
  120. sree

    HELP

    Deep dark woods seem lovely where they begin but once you have travelled deep enough , they make you wish you had not given in to their beckoning to begin with.

    Shankar lay breathing heavily on the uneven forest floor . He sensed darkness approaching. There was a rustle amongst the leaves as if beings were hurrying through them to get back home before dusk. Shankar made an effort to raise himself and fell back on the ground. He lifted his head and turned back to see what broke his run. He could not see through the dense green but his eyes caught a blue glove lying on his left.

    Shankar’s heart beat faster . Was another human here by chance? The blue glove’s owner perhaps knew the way out or maybe he had some water ? Either way Shankar knew if he had to make out of the forest alive, he needed another human. With a faint glimmer of hope, Shankar hosted himself up and looked around.

    He did find the owner of the blue glove but not in a form that could help Shankar out. The other pair of the blue gloves was clutching a .5mm pistol even as the owner of the hand lay stiff and dead.

    Shankar backed a few steps and felt an urgent impulse to continue running. This could be his last day too if he did not make it back to civilization as soon as possible. He had to force himself to take each step that led up to the dead body spread on the forest floor.

    The man was a non native and his backpack contents seemed spread across the floor. He had fallen on his face and his pistol still lay fitted in his hand. Shankar heaved the body to roll and instantly realised the cause of death.

    There was a neat circular wound at the side of his forehead which looked more than a few days old. A burst of morbid odour filled the air and Shankar’s despair darkened.

    He forced himself to be as steady as he could be . The man lying before him had given in to the idea that he couldn’t escape the forest alive and had acted upon an impulse that Shankar had been fighting for days.

    The 0.5mm beckoned and he found his hand extricating the weapon out of the dead man’s grip. The sensation of metal against his skin felt good and he smiled before he released the trigger .

    Reply
  121. Victor Perez

    “Familiar Feelings”

    There he was again, scrutinizing over his options and their outcomes as if he wasnt already aware of the possibilities, while finding himself in the same situation as always with a feeling that lately had become all too familiar. His head hung shrugged low towards the ground and his face clandestinely hidden away under his faded sweater’s hoodie hoping that nobody would notice his scattering eyes wandering aimlessly. Weeks of strugglling and stressing over his drug addiction without solution had grown into weighty tension that burdened his persona heavily daily.

    Vulnerability grew inside him as he stared down at what remained of his last paycheck. “You want it or not man, …” muttered his dealer impatiently in a disapproving tone, “ … I dont have all day”. He hesitated for a second and took a deep breath as if he were about to make a life-altering decision. Although he was opposed to the idea at first, he fell victim to the gripping clench of drug abuse once again and handed over the last of his cash. Hastily, he snatched the folded up piece of paper and shoved it deep into his pocket. “Thanks … ”, was all he managed to whisper incoherently before exiting the clutter-filled car. The inanity of thanking this stranger baffled him with slight humor momentarily, forcing him to crack a quick and soft laugh to himself. Rarity had become of his laughter in the last couple months from his strenuous battles with life. What once used to be joyous hollers of laughter were now replaced with sheer painful cries of sorrow. Whatever meer joy he felt briefly had instantly absolved with the thought of the chaotic madness that layed ahead.

    Upon entering through the back of his house he made his way into the dimly-lit garage and stood still for a second in the middle of the room. He came depressed at the sight of his newest favorite hang-out spot. It reeked of old cigarette smoke, forgotten dirty laundry, and utter misery. His thoughts raced eratically with chaos. Suddenly he was flustered with an overwhelming urge to vent all his hidden frustrations that he kept bottled up and confined within his conscience. Devastated at the fact that he was alone again and was like this for some time now. Single handedly, he managed to push away all his friends and family members one by one as he burning down those bridges with his childish cries about how unfair life was towards him, but never making an effort to change his habits. Overwhelmed from the never ending bark of his guilt-stricken conscience combined with a strong desire to cry and scream at the top of his lungs til’ popping a blood vessel filled him with a sickening sense of self loathe. Just another feeling that lately had become all too familiar.

    Reply
  122. Ryan Neave

    Walking in a very fast manner, a boy with a worried look on his face makes his way across his schools playground, towards the neighborhood in which he lives in. He looks back occasionally, but is much more intent on moving. He actually transitions from power walking to sprinting. He finally makes it through the shortcut that leads from the playground to the street, when a dog of a different breed and color of the one that was chasing him appears around the corner. Suddenly, the dog that was chasing the boy appears as well, running through the short-cut. The boy is cornered, and these dogs look vicious. Then a man from one of the houses slams opens his screen door, running with a baseball bat towards the two angry canines and terrified child. The dogs scurry, The boy thanks the man and the two walk away.

    Reply
  123. Ryan Neave

    A rock rolls down a roof. A boy on his bike witnesses the rock fall, but he is not sure where it came from; he saw it just roll down from the corner of his eye. Curious about where it came from, the boy rides his bike onto the street on the other side.

    Reply
  124. Abhishek

    Sometimes people enter your life at the most random of moments for the most obscure rasons,& end up becoming so important that they leave a mark on your heart…
    Yes,you did the same….
    This is for you driver uncle…!!

    “You have to come dear,you are not a baby anymore. Do you know how many friends you are going to have ? Are you going to miss those funny games & sweets ? Now get ready fast & I will drop you to school.”
    That was first ever interaction of him with me.He was just an expert in managing the people;so it is not neccesary to tell you that it was me ,was refusing to go to school because I didn’t wanted to miss Tom & Jerry Show..!!
    Tukaram Sukhdev Bhosale,Tukaram uncle for me was a big source of freshness & he was a place of enjoyment for me !! Being from the family of businesses persons I always get attracted to the people with great enthusiasm !

    Reply
  125. Ryan Neave

    The rain pours down. “its raining, its pouring, the old man is snoring,” Young Robbie chants quietly to himself as he stares out the window, with his grandfather catching some z’s quite loudly on the couch. Robbie decides he is not going to be that kid who just watches out the window as it rains. Bored, he gets up, walks slowly passed his snoring grandfather, and goes outside. I mean, there is no one there to tell him no, right? Running about in this torrential down-pour, the boy gleefully enjoys getting soaked. His long black hair falls in his face. Suddenly, he hears thunder, and scurries back inside. He was wearing his waterproof watch that tells how much he ran, in which he forgot he had on.

    Reply
  126. Audrea Stewart Strelo

    I just completed my first 15 minute writing practice. I welcome any thoughts, suggestions, etc.
    Different:
    He seems happy today. I love days like today. When my son wakes up with a smile and grogginess at the same time. It reminds of the young actors I used to watch on soap operas. They would wake up for their full days at school, get ready and comply so nicely with their family and of course the chef, the housekeeper and the nanny. Isn’t that how real life should be?
    Let me introduce myself. My name is Sam. I am married, have two sons, two dogs, a guinea pig and a fish. Our house is usually filled with noise from a variety of sources including: the TV, dogs barking, kids fussing, radio blaring, me fussing, guinea pig squeaking (he is never full, ever!), etc. These sounds are probably pretty typical of most families on our block, but we are different, or at least I feel we are different or maybe it’s just me who is different from the others that live in our neighborhood.

    Reply
  127. Gillian

    She let out a piercing shriek in the midst of the dark and still forest. As she stumble at what she thought a frozen log, she saw a bruised arm beneath all the fallen leaves. She is slowly moving away from the arm, knowing it is connected to something much more. But as she moved away, something else caught her eye. Another arm can be found a meter away, Another shriek escaped her and her eyes began to water. She knew now. A dead person underneath all the fallen leaves from the dead forest. She stumblingly tried to run away but she knew that she needed to tell someone. anyone. Farther and farther, she continued to run breathless. I need to keep running, she muttered to herself. There is something here, she continued. As she continued to run, her mind brought her back to the lifeless body.

    Reply
  128. Lucie

    “Clementine! Come quick!”
    “What is it?” She was happy, today had been a good day, no fight so far. “Oh, another one!”
    “What should we do?”
    Flynn
    seemed harassed, not upset, nor scared, just annoyed as though his car
    broke down in the middle of the motorway. The corpse of a middle age man
    was lying in front of him. No trace of fight, violence or wrong doing
    of any kind. Just a lifeless body.
    “Let’s bury him with the others.”
    Clementine,
    his partner, was already on her way back, she knew exactly what to do.
    “We will need the spade, the shovel and the car” she thought. Why on
    earth did they come and die here, her favorite path. This piece of land
    was home to hundreds of flowers – how else would it be so beautiful –
    and yet, they all come here to die. What a waste ! Waste of her time,
    his time. couldn’t they expire somewhere else! But she knew better.
    “Hold up,” cried Flynn “maybe we should call the police this time.”
    “Why?”
    “Three dead men in just over a month, all of them within 500 yards of our property don’t you think that’s odd?”
    Clementine was infuriated.
    “We
    are not having this conversation again!” she hissed “Didn’t you say
    that you longed for peace? How is calling the police going to achieve
    that?
    “They won’t do anything anyway…apart from ruining your life, and mine.
    “If
    you want it to stop, you will have to solve the issue yourself,” she
    uttered in a softer voice “you know that’s a message, you always
    knew…They will never leave us alone.”
    Flynn was standing straight,
    staring at the emptiness, his dark brown eyes were glazed over. He
    wasn’t smiling yet he appeared content. This had to stop and who better
    than Clementine and him to put an end to it. Who were they fooling
    anyway… Countryside life was never meant for them.

    Reply
  129. Jessica goldsworthy

    I love the way her eyes spark when she really wants to tell me something exciting about her day, but her infant tongue rolls around the words, spoken language just out of her grasp. We have our own language of gazes and gurgles and giggles which binds us in our own precious world.
    I love her hair first thing in the morning. the way it matts into a wild birds’ nest at her crown, the rest of her fluffy mop like a young penguin’s down feathers; an eternal fuzz that you can’t help but bury your nose in to inhale that unmistakeable scent which warms your soul.
    I love the way her laugh jangles through the house like a breath of life. The walls seem to glow with a new vivacity, protecting a precious cargo, a new purpose. And that infectious chuckle, it seems to absorb into the bricks and mortar, filling spaces that I didn’t know were echoingly sparse before.
    I even love the lurch of my gut when she cries. I love how my exhausted bones ache to nurture her burning lungs as they howl into the night for comfort. My heavy eyelids and stale breath peal into insignificance as I bundle her close to my breast and she settles, content with her cheek nuzzled at my heartbeat. She is a labour of our love.
    She has your smile. Sometimes her dark fuzzy hair and wicked grin are such a replica of yours I have to look away. It hurts.
    I hate the way her eyes laugh like yours did. The innocence of her searching gaze such a carbon copy of your own that I have to tear my eyes away to avoid hot, raw tears splashing on her unknowing cheeks.
    I hate that I still reach for you in sleep. My arm searches through rumpled sheets and cavernous quilt to pull your body close in the dark. You feel almost touchable, in between sleep and awake. I hate that just as my arm feels the remnants of your body heat she cries, snapping me back to the cold crispness of your empty side of the bed, which seems to scream at me louder than her own wailing.
    I hate that I have to do this alone. I hate that she will have to live without you teaching her to ride a bike, cheering her first steps, without knowing how it feels to sit proudly on her fathers’ shoulders only to get pins and needles twenty minutes later and scream to you to make it go away. I hate that I will have to do all the night feeds, all the parenting, the coaching and disciplining and teaching and loving enough for two because you had to leave us here, alone. You had to die and leave us forever compensating for a heartache that will never go away.
    She is changing every day and you are missing it. She is learning every day and you aren’t here to be her number one fan. She is on the verge of her first words and I am petrified that it will be ‘dada’ that comes out because if it does, I will lose the fight. The tape will tear, the glass will smash, the dam will collapse, and I will fall apart every time she speaks a name which will forever echo to the space where you should be stood, next to me. I am holding myself together with tape and glue, which threatens to come unstuck every damn day. But I am holding myself anyway, forcing the pieces together and scrambling through each day for this tiny little being who is the only piece of you I have left.
    I love that she is my girl. I love that we made her. But I can’t stand that you’re not here to see it.

    Reply
  130. Shahzeb Athar

    First try at writing in 15 minutes
    I kept running. I could not get out the image out of my head. It was imprinted on my retinas. What started as a hunting expedition in the woods did not take long to turn into one of my worst nightmares. I had stumbled across it in the clearing. One moment I was enjoying the serenity that nothing but the musky smell of sun dried wood, the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves beneath my feet gave me, and the other I was ready to vomit. It was a ghastly apparition. Recalling the scene sent goosebumps down my spine, I tripped, and fell. My feet were bleeding and the threadbare rucksack had snagged into the branch of a tree and spilled out it’s contents while i ran. I cried, it was my brother’s.
    Then it hit me. I looked back and saw an apple lying a few feet behind me. suddenly it dawned on me that I had left a trail. There was no time to lose so I got up and started running. Then I heard it. Steadily growing closer, an unearthly sound. I dared not look back, but was overcome with a sense of foreboding. Was this how it was going to end?
    I did not want it to. I ran harder. I was followed. I could sense it, feel it’s rotten breath on my neck. I tumbled through the woods, tears streaming down my cheeks and stinging my eyes. The world swam in front of me. The trees swayed, and it felt as if the stars had come out. But it was mid day. Then I heard my brother calling out my name. My head swam and I fell down. It seemed like an eternity. I saw my brother take out his sword and charge. I wanted to call out to him, warn him, but I could not move my mouth, let alone my eyes. The last thing I remember was the sound of steel followed by a hiss
    When I opened my eyes my brother was kneeling next to me. There was soot on his clothes. He registered my coming to senses and his eyes softened. His face looked concerned. Strange.
    “Was I dreaming?”
    He sighed.
    “No, looks like you’ve met them too.Earlier than I expected.”

    Reply
  131. Sofía

    On a winter night, wind blowing cold, freezing air, Veronica is walking calmly in the woods. Veronica was at a camping trip with some friends and decided to take a walk through to woods. Veronica is a strange girl, she’s very mysterious when it comes to revealing some parts of herself, shady some might say. Veronica lost her parents when she was young, she’s a foster kid and when she moved to her new city, she actually found it appealing. She made some new friends and feels comfortable with the whole situation. I’ve been watching her for some while now, she has no idea. I planted some dead bodies in the woods, just to finally catch her. After months of planning this I think it will finally come to a rest. Veronica likes challenges, so I gave her one. One may think I’m just flat out creepy, that I just stalk people for a living, but everything has a purpose, I don’t understand why people find it unappealing. Once Veronica came in to the exact spot where I lured her I knew this plan was to be a success. I still remember her face when she saw what I had planted to distract her. Her lungs full of air, she let out a scream that made all of her friends come and find her which ruined my whole plan. So much for my plan being a success. What I didn’t or couldn’t understand is that most of her friends didn’t even react to the dead bodies, like they have been there before. They all looked at each other’s faces with a peculiar stare, then when I understood what they were doing, I was in complete shock. They reacted almost mechanically, like if they have been through this time and time again. They calmly removed the bodies from where they were, cut them up in pieces and burned their flesh. Right in front of my eyes they burned the cadavers of my mother and father. I thought it was a very good sacrifice to kill my mother and father, for what I was about to do anyway. I loved them very much but the want for that girl overpasses everything in my life and now I will never get her because her little worrying friends had to come to the rescue. I don’t understand why or how people care so much for each other, we’re just flesh and bones, we just want, we don’t love. Like for example, I wanted Veronica so bad I was willing to give up my parents life just to be with her, I wanted her, but never love. Maybe lust, and even that is too strong word to describe what I feel. Veronica was one of my best victims, even though I never actually caught her, just making her feel even a little disturbed because of me would make me the happiest person on earth. At last, Veronica went away with another family, results they were abusing her at her home, how irony makes it’s course in our life, am I right?

    Reply
  132. Rumnaz Islam

    Shelly’s Mysteries

    “It is remarkable,” I said, just as I skimmed through the smooth and rough textures on that paper with my fingers. She replied with shyness that seemed to me like she was guilty of something, guilty to create something so perfect with paint, “thank you.”
    Shelly is my new best friend from class. She is adorable and quiet. However, leaves me in perplexity with certain strange behavior that she often delivers. I pretend to love the strange part of hers but the inside of my heart can breathe air of fear.
    Often, she would dive into deep talks when both of us are done completing our homework or just came home from a Friday night movie. I listened to her in silence as she went on and on about her past life and felt pity for herself. Shelly would never tell about what had exactly happened; instead she would speak of emotions of description so deep that people like me would hardly enjoy her company. Only her thoughts would blow as fast as wildfire and it would get difficult for anyone to catch up to her speed. Shelly often have referred to”lost love” and even showed me simply organized poems relating to this topic. I wonder whether she was once badly hurt by her loved ones or not because the “lost love” that she had spoken of is exceptionally beautiful and melancholic that no other teenager can ever speak of.

    Reply
  133. boudoumi hiba

    loving or hating, creating or destroying.

    what do we have?

    Miracles or curses?

    Love or hate?

    who has the right to take everybody’s lives?

    And who did it?

    Searching for reality

    while burning in the fire

    and sinking in the darkness

    Who wants the life to be miserable?

    Falling over and over

    walking in the darkness

    searching for a light

    Sadness, hate, disappointment

    emotions that remained with me

    when will they go, and say goodbye?

    When will I see the light , that I have waited.

    It will come one day .

    we don’t know who will die and who will live .

    we wish for mercy, to forget our faults.

    betrayal, deception are illnesses.

    they won’t go alone , but will try to stop them.

    The future is unclear, and the present is bleak. Where is my soul and heart?

    fighting ,dying , crying or laughing?

    when will I see the light?

    the light that I have missed .

    it will come , but it will be hard to see.

    there will be no miracles or wishes.

    just shocking reality. When will this mess go away,

    will stop burning my heart?

    and stealing the smile from my face ?

    what a darkness I’m getting through.

    perhaps, it will go forever

    or it will never fade.

    light , darkness.

    cold,hot.

    black, white.

    love,hate.

    loyalty,betrayal.

    opposites working together to stop whom?

    the humanity is fading , and the grief is getting over.

    when will these opposites stop working together?

    they won’t , unless we turn thing around.

    where love starts blooming and the hope begins spreading .

    that’s when the humanity is going to be restored.

    i hope you like it! i’m 13.

    Reply
  134. boudoumi hiba

    loving or hating, creating or destroying.

    what do we have?

    Miracles or curses?

    Love or hate?

    who has the right to take everybody’s lives?

    And who did it?

    Searching for reality

    while burning in the fire

    and sinking in the darkness

    Who wants the life to be miserable?

    Falling over and over

    walking in the darkness

    searching for a light

    Sadness, hate, disappointment

    emotions that remained with me

    when will they go, and say goodbye?

    When will I see the light , that I have waited.

    It will come one day .

    we don’t know who will die and who will live .

    we wish for mercy, to forget our faults.

    betrayal, deception are illnesses.

    they won’t go alone , but will try to stop them.

    The future is unclear, and the present is bleak. Where is my soul and heart?

    fighting ,dying , crying or laughing?

    when will I see the light?

    the light that I have missed .

    it will come , but it will be hard to see.

    there will be no miracles or wishes.

    just shocking reality. When will this mess go away,

    will stop burning my heart?

    and stealing the smile from my face ?

    what a darkness I’m getting through.

    perhaps, it will go forever

    or it will never fade.

    light , darkness.

    cold,hot.

    black, white.

    love,hate.

    loyalty,betrayal.

    opposites working together to stop whom?

    the humanity is fading , and the grief is getting over.

    when will these opposites stop working together?

    they won’t , unless we turn thing around.

    where love starts blooming and the hope begins spreading .

    that’s when the humanity is going to be restored.

    Reply
  135. Milady Diaz

    Sara went out that morning for her usual 5:15 jog. She had been doing it for the past few months now, and even thou she didn’t enjoy the sacrifice of waking up at 4:30 to shower, have her green smoothie ready by 5:00 and be out the door fourteen minutes later; she (and everybody around her) had started to notice the fruits of her labor. Skinny legs, a tighter butt and a flatter stomach were just some of the many benefits the changes she had been working on lately.

    That and the satisfaction of seeing the incredulity on the faces of the people who doubted her. “You? Losing weight and working out? Really? How come? Great job!”

    Idiots.

    If it weren’t because people like them (just like 90%of the worldwide population) would never admit their faults, each of them should be apologizing to Sara for all the bullshit she’d been thrown at since childhood.

    These kinds of things were the stuff Sara always had in her mind. Conversations that would never come to pass, flawless revenge moves and the delight of offences returned (many years after they’ve passed).

    “It’s pathetic” she confessed to herself as she skipped a few songs on her playlist. Who the hell puts Adele on cardio?

    Sara took the curve she’d alway takes to getbto the bridge (then downtown and then back to her place), when she saw an strange lump laying in the middle of the road. It looked like a rolled up carpet, with a few leaves on top from the nearby trees. “Ugh” she sighed. “I forgot I left you here”.

    Sara looked around to make sure nobody was nearby, and took an alternate route.

    Reply
  136. Guy

    Explanation of what is Free software.

    Last week I encounter the term of the “FSF” which stands for Free Software Foundation. It is a organization which promotes the use of free software.

    What is free software you may ask? It is a software that is free to run, copy, distribute, change and improve.

    The philosophy of the FSF is to liberate the users from a unknown programs that they run on their computer and not to shackle them to the intentions of the programmer who wrote that program.

    There is a different between the term Open source and Free software. The first is a little looser than the other in terms that it gives less freedom in some situations.
    Open source means that the source code of the program is open to everyone to take a look, but there are some cases it cannot be modified due a restriction in the hardware that run the program, like in Tivo product that restrict the software from running un-signature programs (which means that only the Tivo company can distribute their programs). The inability to make modification of the program is violating the freedom from the user perspective.

    There are about 4 freedom issues that the FSF is promoting.
    The first one is the freedom to run a program as you wish for any purpose. The second one is to study how the program works and change it as you wish. The third is redistribute a copy of that program to any other person. And the last one is to redistribute the modification that you might done to program. A program is free software if gives all those 4 requirements.

    Although it is might sound confuse free software might cost money. The term Free software doesn’t distinguish in the way that get copy of the software ( by paying money or not) but after you get the software if you have the all freedom that mentioned above.

    Does Ubuntu is a free software? No. because although it free , there are some programs that comes with the operation system that violate one of the four freedom that had just mentioned, like there are programs that doesn’t give the user study its source.

    Reply
  137. vivien

    I am an Australian novice writer. I hand-wrote this first and then typed it up using a little editing. It is Australian grammar and spelling. i wrote for half an hour.

    The body in the forest.

    Diana’s jogging is steady and sweat glistens over her lightly toned body. The forest is filled with warm sunshine though showers are predicted later. Today she is jogging alone. Checking her watch she registers that she has run now for 30 minutes and decides to take a break. After slowing to walking pace she makes her way to the picnic area where there are tables and seats. Instantly she feels the same peace she experiences every-time she’s here.Easing into a seat she notices the clumps of colourful wildflowers springing up around the area and then to her left a man’s foot protruding from under a covering of branches.

    Reply
  138. tye powers

    I go hiking at the same park every weekend. Normally, I’m just looking for things to take pictures of for my instagram account. I’m sure I’ve taken a photo of every interesting thing in this park at least twice, but it’s the only park within driving distance. On this particular weekend I couldn’t take any photos.

    Shortly after I began my hike, I was struck with the most offensive odor I’d ever smelled. Thinking that someone had dumped trash in my pristine park, I went to investigate, hoping that I could stir up some outrage on the internet. What I found could not be posted online, or anywhere else. I found the town’s butcher. Not anything he’d cleaned, but the man himself.

    He was tied to a tree about three feet off the ground. He’d been gutted. His entrails were wrapped around the base of the tree. For some reason, I felt…nothing. I called the police. They did not believe me at first. I asked if they would prefer the local news station ruining their crime scene. They were there in six minutes.

    I haven’t eaten meat in almost a year. The smell alone causes images of that day to flash before my eyes.

    It turns out the murderer’s plan worked. They caught him about a month ago. He confessed his plot. He wanted to create a worl in which butchering an animal was seen the same as butchering a person.

    Reply
  139. hayley

    Puppy Love

    A young man, Evan, is walking through a dark forest, trying to find his way back home after another attempt at finding Jessie, his golden retriever that had ran away three days before. As his feet dragged across the dead leaves on the forest floor, he thought about what Jessie could be doing in that moment. If she was dry, warm, safe. His cloudy thoughts distracted him and he was suddenly jolted back into reality when his foot was stopped by a mass under the leaves. He started to walk around it but he soon realized that the mass was rather large and curiousity got the best of him. He kneeled and cleared some of the leaves away. He looked down at what he had uncovered and after about 30 seconds of registering what exactly he was looking at, he fell backwards with a yell. His breathing was uneven and his hands were shaking as his wide eyes starred at the dead body in front of him. He could see dried blood on the side of the body’s mouth. They were a teenage girl with soft blonde hair and glassy brown eyes which had lost all life. Her skin was stark white and her clothing was ripped and dirty. Evan stood up slowly and considered running home and telling someone but something about this girl intruiged him too much. He slowly knelt down, scared, as if she would jump up and strangle him. All he could hear was the wind through the branches of the trees and his own heavy breathing. His heart was still recovering from the shock and it was beating fast. He kneeled next to the girl and uncovered more of the leaves. She was scratched up and bruises were scattered around her wrists and arms. Evan was scared to look any further, as if he was doing something wrong. He searched to find a cause of death but none of the scratches were extreme enough and he couldn’t see anything that would lead to death. He started to look for any form of ID or something that could tell him simply who this girl was. He slowly lifted her arm and saw a bracelet. It was very tattered and it seemed to be made of velcro. He held his breath and brought it closer to him. As his eyes adjusted to it, he chocked out a scream and scrambled backward. Tears started to fill his eyes and he stood up as quickly as possible and started running. He couldn’t see where he was going through his tears and the dark that was settling on the forest but he didn’t care. He just needed to run somewhere, anywhere. He realized that he was still holding the charm bracelet and he threw it on the ground and ran faster. Out of no where, his foot caught on a root in the ground and he went flying, landing at the base of an oak tree, hands first. His wrists spasmed and instead of trying to get up again and keep running. He pulled his knees upto his chin, held his shaking hands close to his chest and sobbed into the dry leaves. He couldn’t get the image out of his head; a pink velcro collar with “Jessie” scratched into the metal plate wrapped around a dead girl’s wrist, stained with blood.

    Reply
  140. Jay

    The breeze feels stale but calm. I wonder if we will get a good helping of snow this winter, thought Laura. “What do you think Butch?” “We gonna’ get a big heap of snow this winter?” Butch didn’t respond. As a matter of fact Butch doesn’t talk at all. Well, cause, he’s a dog
    so there’s that. Butch stared blankly at Laura as she expected an answer to her rhetorical question. Butch and Laura set off on a walk in the woods behind her house. What a lovely morning it is with the sun kissing the meadows and the clouds kissing the valleys. A morning walk always helped Laura clear her head and start her day off right. It also gave butch a good opportunity to get some
    exercise in before Laura headed to work in the city.

    Although she preferred the country atmosphere, she worked right dab in the middle of downtown Detroit city. Real estate broker, none the less. Laura liked to keep these two worlds separate. Her city life job and her country life living were never to collide. The balance kept her content. It was just Laura and Butch in that big ol house. Laura liked it that way. She preferred her men like she preferred her ice cream. Delicious but only on occasion. And she always went out for ice cream too. She wouldn’t dare bring a tub home.

    Up ahead Butch heard some rustling in the leaves. He ran off barking as Laura called out to him. She waited a couple minutes to allow Butch to explore some. She called out once again but heard silence. She headed in the direction that Butch gallivanted so hastily to. As Laura got closer, she heard Butch whimpering. But he wouldn’t
    respond to her calls. “Oh no, what did he get himself into now,” Laura
    whispered. Suddenly the crisp stale air smelled of rotten fruit. Butch must have run a quarter of a mile out from where he heard the rustling. With Butch loudly whimpering Laura was able to locate Butch on the path. As she got closer she saw Butch crying at a pile of rags. Odd, she thought to herself. Butch has never been scared of a bunch of ol’ rags before. She got closer to inspect the drama. As she approached the pile of rags she realized it wasn’t a pile of rags
    at all. It was clothes, not piled. But clothes still attached to…….a person. A decaying person….. but a person none the less. Taken back, Laura turned and heaved. “Nope,” she muttered. She didn’t want to throw up her breakfast as she stood hunched over trying to gain her composure. She gave herself a couple of minutes to breathe in fresh air before returning to the site of a rotting corpse that lay just inches away.

    Reply
  141. Pavi Suji

    A BEAUTIFUL SCAR

    Sensation of my heart is boundless and envision of my brain is beyond infinity. I may be strongly named as “wishful thinker” or even “fantasist”. I am more influenced by thinking to myself, talking to myself and worrying to myself. Most of the times, I never seeked people to share my feelings, but even if I try to, paradoxically I have got brilliant room full of empty people. Being alone is deservable but being so lone is not so enjoyable. Silence is divine but unspoken words are not so peace. Being loved by someone is treasured but knowing you have got only a pack full of untrusted well-wishers aren’t really so cool. So does I was grown up with my childhood, made up with my teenage and sarcastically enduring my adulthood.

    Technically, I am more used to be alone, silent and surrounded by untrusted dudes which I really never regretted because these always been part of my life throughout. From the beginning till now, standing alone and creating silence been my favourite part, may be its because I am Piscean or a February born. But the third one, “untrusted rabble” aren’t one of my wishes. I easily trust people and they over-trust to hurt me very fluently and frequently. “Why does this particualry happens to me everytime when other people enjoys the essence of trusted people with them? Is that anything wrong on my side or everything wrong on side? And why do I always think on other’s way point of view than being true to myself?” If I brainstorm, the unconvinced solution I get for these inverted hooks is that there is nothing incorrect in me.

    We start to overthink about all these issues though we have got better things to do in our life. Its is because its an obvious truth that our life is majorly lacking with three magical elements – Love, Loyalty and Long-lasting. I neither got all these superpowers together from one nor one among these, even seperately. Miserable is the word. Damn. Life sucks, huh? Here, I am staring at my smile on the mirror figuring out what I needed is all the way with me. Let me interrogate those people who patently shooting me with “What more you needed than loving friends?, What more you needed than long-lasting realtionships?, What more you needed than loyal people around you? I just put them with one single question triggering my pistol ready, “Why do you even need people to experience all these superpowers which is just closely hidden into you in self?” We are always on searching mode for people who can grant us love, but one can only understand their meaning of life, if they are ready and kickstart to love themselves, being loyal to oneself and long last it forever.

    As I go deep, deep and digging so deep, few question marks pops up pointing me, “Why don’t you stop complaining people and ofcourse you and observe what life is trying to teach you?, Who are you going to trust, if you don’t trust yourself?” In my case, I always been trying, trying, trying to change me, mould me, adapt me to please someone, to care for someone, to act nice to someone. But at the end of the day, I am restless finding me no where. I was pleasing people, over-trusting, pouring love to them for hurting me constantly and to pull someone into my life to give it a meaning. But all I found on my path was mere disappointment. I find myself at the end line of trusting realtionship, friends, family and you name it.

    I am more cautious to make clear I do have bag full of people around me, cup full of friends, spoon full of well wishers and the fellow gave birth to this useless thinker and I still feel so isolated standing somewhere hanging at the bottom line of this earth figuring and wondering, “How my life is going to be and how I am going to deal with it without a pillar(what we call as “people”)? So many interrogations, imperations and exclamations circling around me, but I am just going to deal it with an assertion, “Calm. Go with the flow and let it go”. It doesn’t sound so wise but it really works. Sometimes, being logical, practical and talking reality can be scary but on the world’s last day, this is the one gonna make you survive. If someone on the world feeling so lone, trapped by the silence and tired of jerks, remember, other people need other’s help to stay cheered but for you, you are the playmaker of their smile and your own happiness.You are meant to be the creator. You are the one who can give right meaning to your life.Your life will change one day, the way you wanted it to be. Nothing is permanent. Until then, Live. Love. Laugh with your forever beautiful scar and my most trusted relationship partner, “Mr.Smile” !

    KeepSmiling,
    Mrs.Smile 🙂

    Reply
  142. Imi

    I am a new writer and this is my first time doing this because I realized that I was taking a lot of things I signed up for for granted. Hope you like it…

    She stared at the rampikes that continued down the road as she trembled. The mass grave she previously crawled out of mocked her. Lots and lots of bodies, well, skeletons. How did she get there? Standing up, she reached for the fence that separated her from the supposed sanity of the real world and the stench. Determined turned desperate. The jagged edges of the metal frames abused her hands as she scrambled to find an exit. A scream. She had to break the grip her conscience contained her with. A slit. The gap in the fence drew her close. She forgot about the potential survivor she had left behind and crawled through. She was relieved yet worried. She progressed up the narrow path that lead to who knows where. What more could a lost soul do?

    Reply
  143. Imi

    I am a new writer and this is my first time doing this because I realized that I was taking a lot of things I signed up for for granted. Hope you like it…

    She stared at the rampikes that continued down the road as she trembled. The mass grave she previously crawled out of mocked her. Lots and lots of bodies, well, skeletons. How did she get there? Standing up, she reached for the fence that separated her from the supposed sanity of the real world and the stench. Determined turned desperate. The jagged edges of the metal frames abused her hands as she scrambled to find an exit. A scream. She had to break the grip her conscience contained her with. A slit. The gap in the fence drew her close. She forgot about the potential survivor she had left behind and crawled through. She was relieved yet worried. She progressed up the narrow path that lead to who knows where. What more could a lost soul do?

    Reply
    • Harmonie Hamilton

      Wow. This is a nice story, it has great details. I really want to know what happens next.!!! Good job.

  144. Dakiprim

    “Please don’t die my love”, she said, with tears in her eyes as Duke bled profusely; “remember you promised not to leave me”.

    Duke had been shot on the evening he was supposed to see the love of his life, Barbara, whom he was to take out on a date. With a height of 5ft9, just a few inches shorter than Duke, she had the most charming features a woman could ever have but the distinct feature that always had Duke fall in love each single time he set his eyes on her was the innocence in her gaze which was what made his heart jump when he first met her at the photography studio.

    Few days back, a special reservation for two was made at the grand opening ceremony of an exquisite seafood restaurant downtown. It was the perfect place to make his intentions known since he couldn’t do it at sea, on a cruise ship. His dream has always been to propose to the love of his life, sailing on a cruise ship. Time was running out though, so he just needed to propose; “There is still a lifetime ahead of us so the cruise ship can wait”, he said to himself. At least, the smell of fresh sea food would give him the feeling of a sea voyage, all he needed to do was just imagine.

    On Friday, at 6:00pm, her phone rang, it was Duke calling, not necessarily to remind her of their date but just to check up on her.

    “Hello my darling Barbs”, he said.

    “Hello my son, what’s up?”, she replied in a playful and happy tone.

    “I’m so excited about tonight and I’ve been battling with what to wear because I want to look handsome for you”, he said. “This tie is killing me”, he continued, as he tried on the new tie he bought on his way back from work.

    Duke hated suits and ties but wanted to ” fulfill all righteousness” because it was a very special night for him. Barbara on the other hand, thought it was just one of those nights where her man missed her and just wanted to make up for lost time that week by taking her out. She was looking forward to their night out and didn’t want to be late because she had watched the advert about the ceremony on TV earlier on that week and the restaurant was offering free dessert to the first ten people to show up for their grand opening ceremony. She loved dessert because it was mostly cakes and chocolates and if you think diamond is a girl’s best friend, think again.

    “You want to wear a tie?”, she asked; “Wonders they say, never end. Well, I’m excited because I’ve always wanted to see you in a suit. I’m doing my manicure and pedicure now and you really need to see my dress. I’m literally dressing to kill you so please try not to get a hard on when you see me because there will be ladies there and that’s supposed to be for my eyes only”.

    “Are you having a sugar rush or are you just being crazy?” he asked as he giggled. “Don’t flatter yourself, that’s my job. I have to hang up now, I’ll pick you up by 8:30pm”.

    “Okay my love”, she replied. “See you soon and don’t choke on that tie”.

    He hung up, and while looking into the mirror, he screamed ecstatically, “Thank God it’s Friday”. Then he picked up the engagement ring from his drawer and took one more look at it, looked back at his nervous self in the mirror and said to himself, “You’re the man, you can do this”. After that showboat moment everybody normally has infront of the mirror, he sang and danced to the shower and just as he was about entering the shower, his phone rang.

    “I thought I just to spoke to her”, thinking to himself. “I know it’s you, Barbara”; but when he picked up his phone, it was Francis, his friend and colleague at work.

    Francis was considered Duke’s closest friend in the office due to the fact that they graduated together from the same university. They were professional petrochemical engineers and they both ended up in one of the biggest oil producing and servicing firms in the oil sector and they became quite close. Oblivious to Duke, envy and hatred had slowly taken over Francis because of fear that Duke was going to triumph over him and become the next person to fill in a top vacant managerial position they were both vying for in their firm. To Duke, it was just a simple case of “may the best man win”.

    This was the conversation that ensued;

    “Hello my man, how you dey?”, Francis asked in vernacular.

    ” Splendid”, Duke replied.

    “Sorry to disturb you, are you free?”, Francis continued. “I really need to see you now and discuss something very important with you concerning some work at the office, please it’s very urgent”.

    ” Are you okay?, Duke replied. “You sound like you just saw a ghost”.

    ” I’m fine, it’s nothing, just let me know if we can meet right now”, Francis continued.

    “Okay bro”, replied Duke. “I have an engagement tonight with Barbara but I can spare a few minutes. Where do we meet?”

    “Meet me at our usual spot”, Francis answered. “I’m there now, please don’t keep me waiting”.

    Their usual spot was the town’s zoo a couple of miles away from Duke’s residence where he normally went to when he needed to take a break from himself. Duke was the animal lover between the both of them. He had three dogs, a talking parrot, a monkey, few rabbits and guinea pigs. He got the rabbits and one of the dogs which happened to be a West Highland white terrier with Barbara in mind and the moment she saw them, she immediately got emotionally attached.

    Still thoughtful about the urgency and importance of Francis’s call, he put on his track suit, grabbed his car keys and drove off to meet with Francis. He got to the zoo at 6:45pm and was shocked not to find Francis’s car parked at his reserved parking space. Duke immediately picked up his phone and called Francis. He got no answer the first time and after trying for the second time, Francis finally answered.

    “Oboi I don reach, where you dey?”, Duke asked in vernacular.

    “I’m inside”, Francis replied. “Walk down to the reptilian section, you’ll meet me in front of the chameleon’s cage”.

    “Strange”, Duke wondered. He was getting more uneasy. “When did you start liking reptiles and why didn’t you park at your parking space?”, Duke asked.

    “You ask too many damn questions”, Francis said with an unsual harsh tone. “Just meet me there,!”.

    Duke however, had a funny feeling in his gut that something was wrong and decided to take precautionary measures to counter any danger or mishap in the course of this meeting. He switched his phone to silent mode and hid it in his stocking. He normally came up with dumb ideas like this when he got nervous.

    He got into the zoo but headed to the zoo’s cafeteria to get a bottle of water because his anxiety made him thirsty and he was warmly attended to by his female admirer who happened to be a waitress there, Martha. In fact, he had quite a few but Martha was a good friend because despite her crush on Duke, she respected his relationship with Barbara and she was the one who told him about the new sea food restaurant that was set to open in town before he went to check it out. Remember?. All these took few minutes as he was still in a hurry to meet up Francis.

    “Finally, you made it”, Francis said with a firm handshake, as Duke walked over to the chameleon’s cage and leaned on the railings in front of the cage. At this time, 7:00pm to be precise, the zoo was usually almost empty because it was getting to closing time.

    “Sorry for dragging you out, I’m in serious trouble and I need your help”. Francis said. I’m not who you think I am” and as Francis was about to explain what was going on, two tall, able bodied men wearing hoodies showed up behind them and pointed guns at them.

    “Turn around slowly and you dare not make any funny moves or make the slightest noise if you still want to live”, said one of the strange men with a deep, calm voice. It was then it dawned on Duke that what seemed like was going to be the best night of his life has taken an unusual twist. Duke recognized one of the gunmen as Francis’s friend who normally comes to the office to visit during lunch breaks. Before he could think of an escape plan, he found himself outside the zoo where the gunmen men parked a black 2016 Honda Civic Sedan. Francis’s phone was seized and was ordered to get into the back seat while Duke was searched. Tempers flared up when they couldn’t find his phone on him but he was able to convince them that he forgot his phone in his car after which he was struck on the head with a gun that sent him into an unconscious state and then thrown into the trunk of their car.

    Now, this is where I’m supposed to draw the curtains on this story and say “WATCH OUT FOR PART TWO”, but I’m sure you are really interested to know what happened; like did Duke still get to propose to Barbara?, What was Francis involved in? Did Duke die?. Well I’m going to tell you, still in the course of this story just because I appreciate you for reading the story this far; you’re the best and you deserve to know how it ended. I also really want to finish this story in one piece.

    Pardon me for digressing, I needed to take your mind off the drama but let’s get on with it. “STAY WITH ME”.

    After a while, the ride became bumpy and it helped to bring Duke out of his unconscious state. His head was hurting and as he struggled to gasp for air due to the air tight nature of the trunk, he tried to recall what happened and what he was doing inside the trunk of a moving vehicle. In a split second, his memory came back and in the midst of all the confusion, he remembered his phone.

    ” Oh, thank you God”, he whispered to himself. He managed to reach for his phone but couldn’t make a call for fear of being heard so he sent a message to the only person he could think of at the moment, Barbara, and the message went like this;

    “I’ve been kidnapped. I don’t know where we are headed because I’m currently in the trunk of a car. Please don’t try to call me because I might be caught. Just inform the police and wait for further information and no matter what happens, just know I love you”.

    Just as he pressed send, he noticed the car came to a halt. He quickly put his phone back into his stocking but little did he know that they were out of town and there was no network coverage, so his message bounced back.

    It was already 8:55pm and the event was 9:00pm. Barbara, who was already beautifully dressed to kill her man had already been calling since 7:35pm but couldn’t reach Duke. She had already gotten acclimatized to the fact that there’ll be no free dessert but wasn’t bothered because Duke would still buy her anything she needed as long as it was within his reach.

    “But this is unlike Duke”, she thought to herself and deep down in her heart she could feel Duke wasn’t okay because he always kept to time and she could always rely on him. The tension kept building up when she still couldn’t get through to him 30mins later and at this time, she had forgotten about the date. She tried calling Francis and he also wasn’t reachable. It was then she decided to drive to Duke’s house to find out what was going on.

    Meanwhile, Duke had been dragged out of the trunk and was ordered to lie faced down on the bank of a lonely river oustide town, while Francis was being tortured.

    “Please I need more time”, Francis screamed in excruciating pain as he was been brutalized by the deadly fists of his abductors. “I will get you your money”, he continued.

    “We’ve given you enough time and your time is up”, said one of the strange men, “You either return our package or the money to us, or go to hell”. As they made their threats, they continued torturing him and then, their focus and agression was transferred to Duke.

    “Who is this?”, they asked Francis, “Is he the one with our money?”.

    “Please spare me, I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Duke answered. He was already trembling in fear but the strange men had no compassion on him as they walked to where he was lying and started kicking him all over his body with their steel toed boots. ” Francis, what is wrong?, what have you dragged me into?”, Duke appealed to Francis but he was too weak to say anything at the moment. They continued with their cruel act until they ruptured his ribs. He pleaded with them to no avail as he was brutally battered.

    “Una no wan talk abi?!”, the men exclaimed in vernacular as one of them pulled out his baretta, and pointed it to Francis. “For the last time, what did you do with our package?”, he asked and as Francis tried to solicit for more time, he was shot twice in the head and tossed into the river. At this point, Duke realised it was over and as he watched the man who pulled the trigger on his friend walk slowly towards him, his life didn’t flash before his eyes but he cried instead and shit himself. Yes, he cried and shit himself! Full of anger, the gun wielding man screamed, “Screw you!”, as he shot Duke twice on his chest. Duke laid there in the pool of his blood and his shit, as his abductors rushed into their car and drove off.

    All these happened, while Barbara was still at Duke’s residence. She got in with her spare key hoping to see Duke probably sleeping oblivious of the fact that his car wasn’t even in his garage. She met an empty apartment unfortunately, but found his neatly arranged suit and she became very restless.

    “Maybe I should call the police and report”, she thought to herself, but she quickly realised that Duke is an adult and he was only gone for about 3hours, so he couldn’t be declared missing. “This could also be one of his pranks”, she said and at that moment, there was nothing else she could do but sit down in her worried state and wait for him to come and explain what the joke was all about or at least call. As she was about to sit down on Duke’s favourite couch, her phone rang.

    “My Duke; please let it be my baby”, she said, as she hurriedly rushed to her bag to get her phone. Pulling out her phone from her bag, it was her wild and nosy neighbor, Elizabeth, calling her to invite her for a cocktail party at one of the popular clubs in town.

    “Please, I’m not interested”, she replied with a disgusted tone, “You know I hate noisy and crowded places. Thanks for the invitation though, goodnight.” She hung up and put her phone aside. Still wondering what might have happened to her sweetheart, her phone rang again and this time, it was Duke.

    Fortunately for Duke, the bullets that went through his chest missed his heart, neither did it damage any internal organ so he was still alive but was loosing so much blood and his time was running out. What gave him strength to fight on was the desire in him not to leave Barbara alone in this world. It was going to break her in so many ways that will also make him roll in his grave. So his love for Barbara made him muster up whatever willpower he had left and dragged himself on the ground. He was soaked in his blood and his shit didn’t make things easier either because it was weighing him down. He was still trying to figure out where he was because it was dark and he was dizzy, but with one little hard-fought step at a time, he saw the headlight of a car and was able to follow the lights and come out to a road.

    On reaching the road, he had lost energy and slumped but something immediately caught his attention as he collapsed heavily to the ground, it was a billboard that said, “Drive safely…Your family needs you…” Duke could recall that there was an identical billboard like that close to the river bank that he normally took Barbara to at the earlier stages of their relationship and also, a few times when she still needed to go there. He was immediately relived because that was exactly where his abductors brought him to. Again, he drew strength from the joy that he wasn’t really lost and remembered his phone was in his stocking. “Finally, my dumb idea has given me a lifeline”, he thought. He reached for it and there was network coverage. “God is watching out for me”, he said as he put a call through to Barbara.

    “Sweetheart!”, she exclaimed and as she was about to start nagging how worried she was, she was interrupted by a subtle voice. She hardly heard nor understood what she was hearing. “Duke are you okay? it’s that you?”, she asked trying to listen more carefully and then she heard him say, “Barbara, I’ve been shot and I’m dying. Come and help me”.

    “OMG! JESUS! My baby, where are you?”, she asked as she burst into tears. At that point, he had lost so much blood and with a faint voice he said, “I’m at the entrance to River Barduke” as he felt the phone falling from his hands. That’s the name they gave the river; they were so much in love when Duke first took her to the river and their foolishness kicked in.

    Barbara pulled herself together, picked up her car keys and rushed to the scene. The river was closer from his house than it was from the zoo so she was able to get there in 10mins. As she approached the entrance, she saw Duke still lying on the ground. She parked close to him and seeing him almost giving up the ghost, she was supernaturally filled with strength and she lifted him up and put him into the back seat of the car.

    “Please don’t die my love”, she said, with tears in her eyes as Duke bled profusely; “remember you promised not to leave me”. This words gave him strength to hang on. Few minutes later they got to a nearby hospital and he was stretchered to an emergency ward and immediately operated on. Barbara wanted to stay with him but a nurse adviced her to go home that she needed to clean up and afterwards she could come back. The nurse went ahead to assure her that Duke was in good hands. Barbara wasn’t assured though, but she saw reasons because Duke would need clean clothes and provisions after his treatment.

    She drove back to his house, cleaned up and put on one of his numerous track suits. As she went to his drawer to get a few clothes for him, she stumbled on something that tried to put a smile on her face but she was too broken to smile. Nevertheless, she went along with it to the hospital.

    Two days later, as she laid beside him on his hospital bed, she felt movement and behold, Duke was awake. She quickly alerted the doctors and when they came and found out that he had gained consciousness, gladness filled the atmosphere. Duke opened his eyes and as he saw Barbara, he was filled with joy and he just burst into tears. She hugged him softly because of the bandage around his ruptured ribs and with tears in her eyes she whispered into his ears, ” Thank you for not leaving me”.

    As days passed, Duke grew from strength to strength. He was still very sad about Francis’s death and was still trying to figure out what really led to that terrible incident so all he could tell Barbara was how he and Francis were abducted by strange men and shot. Although, he was constantly being visited by the police and was questioned. She consoled him and suddenly he got into a playful mood and said, “I’m sorry I stood you up in respect to our date, a gentleman like me never stands a lady up.”

    Barbara chuckled and said, “YES, I WILL.”

    Surprised at her reply, he asked, “Are you high? What the hell are you saying?”

    She smiled again and said, “YES, I WILL MARRY YOU, I saw your vows you wrote and I saw the beautiful ring you got. You’ve really not lost your sense of style”. She immediately reached for her bag, brought out the note and the small black box containing the ring and gave it to him. “Let’s just get over with it”, she said and waited, as she left him blushing and flabagasted. Still in slight pains, he tried to get up and go down on one knee but Barbara told him to forget the drama and just get on with it.

    He cleared his throat and as he was about to read his vows, the dream about the cruise ship struck him. He sighed, shook off the thought and started reading, “I never thought I was good enough to be loved by someone but you came into my life and changed that perception. There’s no one I want to do life with forever and grow old with and I promise to be the very best I can always be for you. Will you accept to answer my name and be the mother of my babies?, Will you marry me?”

    “For the third time, Yes I will”, Barbara answered as she stretched out her arm and received the engagement ring.

    Few days later, Duke was discharged, preparations were made and he finally got married to the love of his life.

    If you’re still wondering what happened to the strange men and Francis, it turned out that the strange men were drug lords wanted by the police and were apprehended few weeks later after the heinous act that led to the shooting and killing of Duke and Francis respectively. Francis was involved in drug trafficking and his last deal went awfully wrong and that led to his execution. Duke was just a victim of circumstance. Francis’s body was later washed up back on the same river bank and discovered by the police.

    THE END!

    Reply
  145. Dakiprim

    My first ever short story.

    Reply
  146. Harmonie Hamilton

    Here is my practice story, tell me if you guys like it.

    I can remember that day as if it were yesterday. The night air was crisp, the sky dark, as if the stars all went out spontaneously, although it was also bright, pale milky moonlight poured across the leafless trees, casting odd shadows upon the ground. A slight fall breeze whispered among the trees in a quite voice. The forest always captivated me at this time of night, I would go there to think, or to watch the stars in a particular meadow I favored. I never found it to be an eerie, or dangerous place.

    *****************************************************************************************************************************
    I started towards the forest, taking long strides until I reached the treeline. I slipped into the darkness and proceed to follow my usual trail. I crossed a small crackling brook and headed towards the meadow in which I would gaze upon the stars at. I stopped walking when I realized that the usual animal noises were amiss. The crickets, beetles and bats had fallen silent. I thought nothing of it and delved deeper into the woods. Once or twice I though I heard the cracking of a twig or branch but I shook the thought from my head and rendered it silly. I crossed the tree line encased around the small meadow and took a few steps into the open. A nearly fell back startled; a large pack of black crows flew up into the air with a few glides of their greasy wings. I found this little engagement to be quite unsettling. I headed towards the bolder that was near the center of the meadow but soon stopped as I thought I saw something shiny in the distance. I wandered away from the boulder and towards the mysterious object. It was a silver pocket watch attached to a small silver chain. I tried to pry open the pocket watch but only to my disappointment. It wouldn’t open. That is when I smelled the strange iron-y dead smell. It smelled like a dead animal or something. I follow the smell and came to a dead body. It had giant scratches across its body. Some kind of animal killed it. At the sight of horror, I dropped the pocket
    watch, and as it hit the floor the cover popped open. Scratched onto the watches face was the words, “Your Next:. Just then a branch cracked.

    Reply
  147. Tarani

    Waking up in the morning I didn’t find Harry beside me, thinking that he must have left. I picked up my mobile on the side stand and checked the time to be 10 already. My sister suheena who was sharing my room was fast asleep. Making sure not to wake her up I walked to my wardrobe and picked up a burgundy color short skirt and a plain white top with an denim jacket to complete the look. I went to take my shower and on coming out I found that my sister had woken up and was making the bed. She looked at me pausing her work and flashed a smile and I mirrored it with a wink.

    “Hey, I guess you have to go meet Harry at 1 right?” She asked me continuing with her work

    “Hmm……Yeah! And how do you know that?”

    “Your mobile reminder” she said with a huge grin on her face. I completely forgot that I had to meet Harry at 1 and thanks to my sister and my mobile reminder to remind me about it.

    “Oh yeah thanks i’ll have to get dressed soon…” I said wearing my denim jacket.

    “And yeah we not have a lunch today in fact we will have a brunch OK so come down soon I am leaving!”

    “Yeah sure thanks!” I said smiling to my sister and applying my eyeliner. Though I was not a big of makeup I made sure I apply a little to protect my face from dust. As well as some eyeliner. On completing my makeup I went down to the dinning Hall for my brunch. On checking the time I found that it was 12 I had one complete hour to go. So I patiently ate my food there was silence in the hall with only the sound of the forks and spoons

    “Yeah mum, Harry had called me at 1 for some surprise so I guess I will be going there maa.” I said breaking the silence in the hall.

    “Yeah sure love please go.” My mom replied With a smile and I knew she was happy.

    I soon finished my lunch and so did the others. Everyone were busy with their own work. The men were busy with their talks and some women in household work and some in gossip. We children ended up in the garden for some fun. At around 12:55 I went to the boy’s farmhouse and niall popped up on opening the door. he gave me a hug and let me in. on walking in i saw that the living room was messed up with food all over the place. and i knew it was niall’s work. he is he only person who cannot stay without eating. I laughed looking at niall and he shrugged his shoulder with his usual grin on his face. i walked up to harry’s room and as soon as i opened his door the cool breeze of the AC hit my face. harry was in his black skinny jeans and the tattoos on his body clearly visible, his long hair falling on his shoulders. his back was faced towards me. the sight of him madde the butterflies in my stomach flatter. he turned back to look at me and i felt the butterflies would come out and fill the room. 

    “hey! good afternoon! good to see you. i was just about to come to your place. you ready to go?” he enquired.

    “good afternoon! yeah i am ready! its you who is late!” i replied and he stuck his tongue out.

    He took the his white shirt in his hand and walked towards me, he was just inces away from me and my back was touching the cool walls.”you look stunning!” he whispered on whereing his shirt. i took hold of his shirt in fists and pulled him closer. ” so do you look haz!” i whispered leaving a peck on his lips and slightly pushing him back to get some air. 

    he stood there with his eyes wide open and with a shocked expression. i stood there myself cheeks turning red on blushing. there was this awkward moment of silence.

    “will be waiting haz! come soon” i said leaving the  room and the astonished harry there.     

    i walked to the living room and sat beside niall. we watched starwars and he offered me some of his food but by the time i took it i was late he took it back laughing at me and i rolled my eyes. soon harry came out fully dressed and looking at him i stood up gave niall a good bye hug and left. we got into harry’s  porshe 911 sport classic. yeah i know about cars dont worry. and drove to wherever we had to go. the car ride was filled with me and harry talking about some stupid stuff and ending up  laughing our stomach out. after a complete 20 minute ride we reached our destination. i got down to find out that we were in the SYCO MUSIC office. i looked at harry and he smiled placing an arm on my shoulder and leading me inside. 

    it was a pleasent place, the white furniture and the glass decorum gave it the classy look it had. we went onto the second floor and harry took me into a room. on opening the door i found out that it was a studio. i smiled at what happened

    *flashback*

    i was on my bed and harry was with me and we were just having a good talk when harry suddenly questioned me “shirley what is your dream?”

    i turned to face him and raised an eyebrow pretending to think. 

    “harry i always wanted to be successful and make my parents proud but i dont know how? i seriously cant recognize my talent. i love to draw, i love to sing, i am really good at sports as well as want to be successful with studying what my parents wanted me to… i am confused harry i dont know….”

    “ok ok chill Shirley…dont worry i already recognized your talent.”

    “and my i know what is that?” i questioned him to know what my talent is in such a short period of time when i myself could not do it in so many years.

    ” you will know that tomorrow.”

    “please harry tell me what it is!” i pleased him and he only gave me that evil smile of his.

    “hmmm….yah dont forget to meet me at 1 after your lunch”

    *flashback over*

    harry and i walked into the recording studio and he turned on the equipment. it had some microphones and a glass plane in the front. he told me to sing any song i wished to. and he walked to the room behind the glass. i started to sing my favorite song ‘fireflies’ by owlcity and he looked at the switches in front of me and adjusted them. and when i completed the song i saw harry giving me a huge thumbs up and a wink. i left the recording room and went to where harry was. to be honest i dint know a lot about these equipments but i am sure i will get to know them soon. he started my song and i sounded really good to be honest. as soon as my song began the smile on harry’s face grew big and he hugged me by the shoulder. just then someone i heard someone clapping from behind and i tured to find simon cowell standing with a huge grin on his face. the smile on my face disappeared making me blush like an idiot.

    “you are meant to be here shirley! i never knew you could sing so well. though harry told me about it i dint believe him but now i will have to i have no choice.” he said coming closer to us and making me blush more. i could feel my face turn red like a tomato. 

    “i am not that good simon. sining is just my passion and nothing else….’

    “and i am sure you can turn this passion of yours into your career.”

    “what?” i was completely confused on what Simon said so i looked at harry asking him to explain Simon’s statement.

    “yes Shirley last night hen you told me about you dream i thought why not i show this singing talent of yours to Simon and then the world.”

    “but harr….” Simon cut me off saying ” i don’t know anything Shirley we have a written song and finding for a perfect voice for it and i guess i found it.”

    “yes shirley, now our task is to convenience your parents on this deal and then start your recording for your first solo debut.”

    i had this creepy feeling at that time and all that  could say was ” ok haz as you wish!”

    “thank you so much Shirley” he said jumping on top of me with a bear hug. and i hugged him back.

    “Thank you Shirley, do come and meet me if your parents agree to this.” He said smiling and shook my hand. 

    “hmm….uncle Simon i guess we’ll leave now and hopefully return with a good news.” harry said looking at Simon 

    “sure harry, i really hope we get a positive response.” he replied and both of them hugged

    Later harry and I left the recording studio and drove back home and harry accompanied me to seek permission from my parents about this deal but before that we went to meet the boys and tell them about this, on getting this new they literally jumped in excitement and happiness. all the boys and myself went to my house and all he adults were in different places and on asking my aunt I got to know that my parents were in their room on the arrival of the boys everyone we passed through greeted them.

    we were standing in front of my parents room “anyways boys i will first speak to my parents and then if they dont reply positively then you speak. is that fine?” i said turning to face them.

    “sure Shirley we will stay silent until the time comes. now knock the door so that we can go in.” liam replied the as usual being responsible he is. 

    I knocked on their door and my dad opened it. my mom was folding some dry cloths. We entered in and the boys greeted my parents and so did they return back.

    “mom, dad we wanted to talk to you about something are you free to talk about it?” i asked them not being sure if they are ready to talk about this.

    “yeah sure sweetie tell me we are always there to hear what you say” my mom replied with a sweet and gesturing smile.

    “mom its actually about my future you know like…. i finished my….a-aa..” i started off but could not say what i wanted to…

    “come on Shirley come to the point and say what you have to i cant wait to know your parents choice” harry urged me to come to the point but i could’nt dare to do that.

    “i cant do this harry, you please tell them” i told him and he came forward with that smile that never disappears on his face.

    ” hmm….aunty, uncle……” he started off and then took a deep breath.

    ” i’s actually that shirley has got an excellent offer with which she can become famous all over the world. its such an opportunity where until now none of the artists have got. she can become a famous star in a night.” 

    “but what is that offer harry?” my dad asked with confusion visible clear on his face.

    ” uncle in the moring shirley and i went to the SYCO studio and i just wanted shirley to sing something. Also then I wanted Simon to hear how she sings. I am sure you know who he is.”

    “Yes, I do know him.”

    “And then after Simon heard her sing he was impressed and offered her the song he was waiting to get a perfect voice. And so then we came here to talk to you about it and take your permission to go for it. Because once she does this song there are chances for her to become a star and then her concerts and new offers, new songs, interviews and all that stuff. Her life will be completely changed. So…..”

    “Are you serious?? The media will ruin her life. She won’t have any privacy, whatever she does will be know to the whole world.” My mother said with that concern and fear in her eyes.but then she is true in what she said, for a second even I thought accepting that contract was not right. But then Harry. Spoke again.

    “Aunty that’s what I said. But I assure you that we will not let the media spoil her life. We will make sure she has her privacy. Though we can’t stop it completely but to an extinct I will protect her.” Harry tried assuring my mother. And what did he say?? ‘I’ will protect her?? OMG!! This is going to be so difficult for me!. Anyways I am confused myself if I should take the contract or no. Though my dream was to be one but now I don’t want to face the consequences. And now it totally depends on my parents decision because I don’t think they will not want my safety they will surely think about it twice and then take the decision.

    “Mom, dad now it completely on you. I don’t mind if you say a now and if you say a yes too the same goes. So now it’s in your hands please do what you like”.I said to tell them that I am fine with whatever they decide.

    “Harry please stay back in the room we want to talk to you and yeah you people wait for a while outside. Harry will be there with our decision” after about thinking for a minute my dad said and so we all walked out leaving dad inside.

    _____________

    OMG!! 150+ reads?? Thank you so much guys!! This means a lot. I wouldn’t have achieved this without you. Thank you so much for this.

    Yeah so I will be updating you guys regularly now. Cuz I am free of this deadly exams and I am a bit free though my collage starts in a few days, but I will update you guys for sure.

    Thank you so much again guys! And please do vote, comment and follow they give me motivation to write more for you.

    Reply
  148. Faten Soussi

    Beatings
    The phone rang three times before she decided to pick it up. She is not always open communicating with others during her self-reflecting time.
    “Hello! Tiffany, I started having more frequent contractions,” briskly said Sara.
    “My husband is outside the city. What am I supposed to do? What if my water breaks and I have to deliver my baby at home? Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you listening to me Tiffany? I need your help!” said Sara in a trembling voice.
    Hello! said Tiffany.
    Tiffany listened to Sara to allow her to feel better. Pregnant women need to talk. They need a good listener. Someone to just listen to them without interruptions.
    “Yes dear, I’m listening to you. You are a brave woman, Sara. Congratulations!” replied Tiffany in a placating voice while trying to reassure Sara.
    “You are going to be the best mom ever. You can come and stay in my apartment”
    “That’s great! Can you come and pick me up to your apartment?” strained Sara.
    Tiffany, felt the need to postpone her priorities to go help her friend.
    because her friend could not drive and her husband is out of the town.
    After Tiffany picked her up,
    “what do you think about calling my baby Collin?”
    Sara started to have rapid contractions, so Tiffany encouraged her to endure.

    Afterwards, in her apartment in Yelltown, Tiffany sat in her white chair at her white desk, surrounded by pens, paper, and a laptop in her new apartment in Yale town. From the large glass window she could see the lightly tinted blue sky and the beautiful cotton like clouds and a golden crowned sparrow perched elegantly on her windowsill. The bird was smiling a mischievous smile only she could recognize. Her gaze shifted then towards the soft, light, creamy white and beige wall. Most of the stuffed furniture was symmetrical and rigidly shaped. Light silver pillows were thrown on the blue sofa. On the wall hung an abstract painting. At the right of her desk was a chess table that she received as a gift from her dad. This chess board was of monumental value, and it brought back wondrous memories from when she was a child. As she glanced at it, she brought to her mind, the sunny days when she and her father would sit out in the garden, playing game after game, that she never won. But she didn’t care because it was those memories that mattered the most. The memories that reminded her of her wise and devoted, energetic father and it was like he was watching over her, while simultaneously feeding her mind with great ideas and inspiration. These were the many reasons why she decided to buy a place in Vancouver. Vancouver was like the abstract painting that hung on her wall: different colours, lines, shapes, and meanings yet they all fit together to create something magnificent, something no one could imagine existed. Her apartment was like her own palace of creativity, where she would spend two weeks a month to enjoy moments of solitude. Tiffany adored reading, and her favourite place to do so was the local library. Yalletown was near the Vancouver Public Library, a library that has seven floors. With a warm cup of camomile tea, she would spend the majority of her late nights engrossed in the latest novel. This is how she ended the day, because it allowed her to go to sleep to anticipate what happens in the book, and give her ideas about writing. When Tiffany wrote, she could escape to anywhere she wanted. She always secretly imagined that characters from books gathered together in the library when everyone was gone, and one day she wished those characters would visit her. Frustrated, Tiffany crumpled the first two papers she was writing and left her messy desk to prepare a cup of tea. To relax, she indulged in the luxury of sipping a cup of Mighty Leaf tea. She could easily switch off the rational thinking side of herself and allow herself to go with the flow of ideas dancing through her. Then, Sara knocked on her door.
    Sara was tall and had fine features. Her untidy red hair was combed back from her forehead and coiled with a large pin at the base of her neck. Her eyes were blue as the door of her apartment. She was wearing a blue print dress and flat white shoes. Her pale face was red, her round eyes conveyed a message she could not decode.
    Tiffany’s apartment has always been a sacred space where she could read and write. After the day Sara knocked on her door, Tiffany felt an openness for change. With a cup of tea between her hands, she opened the blue door and welcomed Sara in. She felt invaded at first but then she felt relaxed. Her cup of tea was still warm. She could smell the lemon mixed with camomile and see the steam from the cup she was holding.
    She invited her friend Sara in for a cup of tea. She poured from a Chinese tea pot into a beautiful ceramic cup. Sara wanted to pamper herself and relax in a hot tub so she could go to sleep later. Hot tubs help pregnant women to have their contractions and facilitate the labor process.
    Tiffany returned back to her sacred desk and breathe in the smell of lavender. There she usually meets with her characters, who come to visit her from time to time. She has been waiting for a long time. Maybe they did not know where she was. She knew that characters are attracted to the minds that best create the stories where they belong.
    She has personal rituals that she performs when getting ready to welcome characters for her new short stories. She started with deliberately awakening her senses while eating an Italian pizza, followed by French macaroons. She went for a massage session. She put on her favourite scarlet dress. She used to like magenta, but decided to wear scarlet. She put a bouquet of bright purple tip tulips in a glass vase on her desk. She lit the purple candles on her desk and started to write on her computer. The keyboard was like her piano. She was engrossed in playing a symphony with words when she heard her friend Sara crying. She had started her contractions. She was sweating. She bit her lower lip to hold back the tears welling within her eyes. She swallowed her spittle. Tiffany’s hands were clenched around Sara’s shoulders to support her as she walks. An hour later they decided to go to the hospital. Many thoughts flashed in Tiffany’s mind. What if characters came to visit her that night? What if the characters did not find her home.
    She changed her dress and helped her friend get ready. They then went to B.C Women’s Hospital and Health Centre. Sara was waiting for her turn to be checked. A Caucasian nurse measured her blood pressure, weight, and height. Sara was carrying a baby in her stomach like Tiffany was carrying the idea of her book in her heart. Both were ready to deliver when the time came.
    After a while, the nurse invited Sara to the delivery room. Her husband came to the hospital that night. He felt sorry he was out of the city last month, she was grateful for his support her during her hard time. Edward could not enter the delivery room during her labor. He could not hold her hands to show support. He could not stand to see her in that situation. While she felt pain and pleasure he only felt pain.

    Sara was following the instructions of the nurse. Her contractions started to be harder and more rapid. Dr Carmen entered the room with Edana the nurse, and declared to Sara that it’s your moment of ultimate pain and pleasure.
    The doctor told Sara to push the baby out. Tiffany made an effort to push her baby out. She knew from a person she trusted that she is talented and she could be a writer.
    After a moment of ultimate silence, Sara heard her baby crying. The nurse put the baby on her chest. Nothing mattered to her now. Any pain now felt resistible. Sara felt serene and enjoyed her moment of creation with her husband. Tiffany then left and went to her apartment where she delightedly sat on her chair at her desk and allowed words to go out through her and submerge. She was smiling. She joyously welcomed a new lovely character who spent the night chatting with her.
    Her apartment from that time on, became the place where she invited other characters. Now she has great company.

    Reply
  149. Ilona Huddart

    How would you communicate if you lost the ability to speak?
    If I found that I couldn’t communicate verbally, I would write.
    Writing has always been my favourite way to express myself, more so than speaking. It seems safer, somehow. I guess that is because you need to organize your thoughts when you are writing. It isn’t as spontaneous as speaking.
    Spontaneity is overrated. It is messy and filled with the possibility of saying the wrong thing. It can create confusion and muddle the message.
    Writing the words down on the page gives me a concrete way of utilizing them. I can rearrange and eliminate the words that do not communicate my message accurately and effectively.
    I love finding the right word, building the best sentence, and creating an eloquent powerful statement.
    The solitariness necessary for superlative creative writing is not in any way a sense of loneliness. It generates a kind of freedom that resonates in my soul. In the silence of this place I can be my truest and most magical self. All things are possible.
    My thoughts turn to the gospel of John. It says, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory as the only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.”
    Why does my mind make this leap from writing is important to the Divine?
    The Word that became flesh was Jesus Christ. Jesus embodied the total Message of God, everything He wanted to communicate to man.
    God message began with writing it down by people who He had inspired. We needed the concrete words on paper before all generations could understand the message encapsulated in the life of Christ.
    The stories of mankind have much to teach us. Their messages reveal pain, suffering and failure. But also, the boundless joy of successful achievement after overcoming obstacles.
    Christ used storytelling as an effective method to get His point across. Perhaps the storytelling of writers is part of this sacred work, carrying messages that need to be heard. I rejoice at that prospect and can hardly wait to begin this wondrous journey of being a writer.

    Reply
  150. Tanganyekia

    I was walking threw the woods, because I was adventuring around. I suddenly come across a dead body with shock I was , so scared . I couldn’t even move , so I reached into my pocket and I grabbed out it phone to call 911 , but there was no service , so I started freaking out saying to myself “ what should I do ” , so I was thinking maybe I should run back to the road to see if there was any service , so I did . A few minutes later . I had service .Than I called the police I was telling them that what the issue was . The police said that they were on their way hours later . The police had finally arrived and the ambulance came , saying to myself I feel pretty proud of myself about telling someone about this . And not just leaving it out here without letting anyone knowing because who else would want to see such thing as that , so that’s why I called for help plus I was alone to I was scared myself saying to myself ” what if there’s someone still out there” because the body well the blood wasn’t dry yet and the officer came to me and said what I knew or how or when did I get here the officer was asking me questions like I was the criminal here , but I was t I was explaining to them when and why I was out here I think that they was asking me that stuff because I was the only one to find her . And the only one who is out there , and the blood wasn’t even dry . And yes I was afraid of what was going to happen because it felt like I was the one who to be blamed for all of this , so the officer wanted me to come with him back to the department with my sweaty palms a d my sweaty face because I’ve been adventuring for awhile now , so we were heading to the police department the department was surrounded by policies with scaress inside what is going to happen to me I shouldn’t be scared because I didn’t do anything.

    Reply
  151. Hindra Saputra

    Alright, this is the 1st chapter of my story. Killed it if you needed but please give me a constructive feedback.

    Sticky Note of Destiny. :

    Preliminary Note.

    Sticky note is just a small pieces of paper with re-adherable strip of glue on its back.

    You can tear it off whenever you want to use it and easily throw it away when you finish using it. You won’t remember where the notes that are filled with tasks have been thrown.

    But can you imagined when you get used to it and in one day you can’t find it all around ?

    By that time you will realized that this small piece of paper is actually a very important paper.

    Catherine Higgins was a sticky note girl.

    And by being a sticky note girl, it meant that people in her office will stuck sticky notes filled with menial tasks, requests and other ‘as needed’ duties on her like she was a walking bulletin board.

    She often felt bad for being ignored. Ninety percent of the people in the office didn’t even bother to know her name and they just referred her as ‘the sticky note girl’ though she had been in the office for five years. Her cousin, which happened to be worked at the same place, oftenly reminded her to do something but still, she didn’t feel right about correcting them.

    ” Catherine. ” she looked to see her cousin and co-worker, Maylene Dossier, sitting at her desk. ” Did you hear that human resources is giving a free trip to Kahima Perfecture for the best employee of each department this year ? ”

    Catherine smiled, her round glasses sliding down slightly at the motion ” Why would I bother with that anyway ? ”

    ” Off course you should bother. Listen, ” Maylene bent down her waist and whispering something to Catherine’s ears.

    ” Are you sure ? ” Catherine eyebrows knitted once Maylene pulling away.

    ” Thousand percent sure. ” Maylene responded cheekily.

    ” I don’t know, May. It just a rumour anyway, ” Catherine shaking her head and smiled as she turned to the mountain of files and documents in her desk. ” I never won such a thing. Besides, I have no one to go with. ”

    ” Allright, it’s up to you then. ” Maylene shrug then slide down and return to her cubicle next to Catherine’s ” But if I were you, I might thinking about a manhunt starts from now. ”

    Again, Catherine just smiled at her cousin suggestion. Off course Maylene won’t have problems to find a date with all of her shrimmering strawberry blonde, voluptuos figure and outgoing attitude. In fact, Maylene treats all of her dates like she was using Kleenex, throwing them right away after she done with them.

    While for Catherine, she was another story.

    ” KITRIDGE !! ”

    Catherine jumped at her boss’s, Jarvis Crane, bark and turned quickly to see him standing behind her back. ” I need you to go to downtown and pick up the gift basket that we’re sending to the Reinheardt Corp. ”

    Jarvis stuck a sticky note with the address at her shoulder. Catherine teared it and she saw that it was a store in the largest mall located in the center of Siglus, Pryley Perfecture capital city.

    ” Don’t dawdle. You’ll have to go to the courier and have them send it out ASAP then grab me a latte before my afternoon meeting. ”

    Catherine nodded and her boss quickly disappeared back into his office at the end of the hallway.

    ” Her name is Catherine and thank you  !! ” Maylene suddenly called out before looking to her cousin ” Seriously Cath, you need to school that man. ”

    Sighing, Catherine stood up and grabbed her purse before heading out to complete her new errand.

    Kay Reinheardt was in love.

    Having the chance of became the new age Cassanova, Kay is falling head over heels for Elina Davidson since their first meeting at highschool and now, they were the quintessential perfect couple; young, succesful and shares the same eyes and hair colors.

    At 28, Kay was now the youngest CEO of the Reinheardt Corp. A series of company that had flourished from his father’s popular chain of restaurants and recently taking over a new phone application company.

    Elina Davidson always wanted to be a movie star and she was quickly climbing the ladder of her career as a primadona at one of the Broadway theater after hours of acting and singing classess and hundreds of painful failed auditions.

    Her aim now is Hollywood.

    Kay new that she would get there. Elina has her ‘as hard as rock’ head and fast learning skills so she could play any part from the sweet, hot-headed Elizabet Bennet to slutty and playful Vivian Ward in the remake of famous old movie, Pride and Prejudice and Pretty Woman. Elina has natural talent in acting and he was going to be there when she landed her first big screen role.

    As her husband.

    ” Sir ? ” Kay snapped out of his reverie to see the saleswoman holding out the ring he had the jewelry store custom made for his fiancee. ” What do you think ? ”

    He looked around to make sure that no one is outside of the shop was peering in. A picture of the CEO Kay Reinheardt purchasing an engagement ring would feed the hungry eyes of the paparazzi and blowing two months of careful plan.

    A nice trip and princess-cut diamond ring will make a perfect proposal.

    ” Perfect. ” Kay responded before handing the woman his credit card.

    ” Gosh. ” Catherine hissed as she held the heavy basket in front of her. ” Five kilos of fresh fruit ? Who in the earth going to eat this ? ”

    She could barely see things in front of her as she walked through the crowded mall. Jarvis hadn’t even bothered to give her money to pay for a taxi so Catherine had to walk the obscenely large basket over the courier office.

    As Catherine continue her inner tirade about her stupid, big belly boss, she didn’t realized that she was walking right into the dark – haired man preoccupied with the open jewelry box in his palm.

    Then the collision between them seemed to happen in slow motion, like what happen when Neo clashed with Agent Smith.

    Somewhere between the rain of grapes, tangerines and bananas. Kay lost the ring.

    Kay immediately fell to his knees in search of it, hastily looking up at the girl as she arranged her large glasses back on her tiny face. ” You fool !! ”

    ” I’m sorry. ” Catherine cried out as she struggled to toss the smashed fruit back into the basket. ” What did you lose ? ”

    ” My fiancee’s ring, you fool !! ” he examined the ground around him. Tossing aside the scattered fruits in his way and ignoring the outcries of the shoppers being hit with the flying produce. ” Do you know how much that ring cost ?! ”

    ” I – I’m so sorry. ” Catherine responded as she began to crawl on the floor to clean up the mess. ” I’m really sorry — “.

    ” Spare me that sorry !! ” Kay continued to look around the cheaply – tiled floor of the mall. He could only imagine what someone would do with a hundred thousand shal ring. ” I need you — ”

    He stopped midsentence at the sight of the girl.

    He were amazed at her apricot skin and weather-streaked blonde hair which made her having a fresh, vital look. Her feature bore the streakingly appealing symmetry often found in those Scandinavian ancestry-the straight nose and fine nostrils; shapely, bowed lips and sapphire blue eyes with golden sparks beneath arched bow of pleasing contour.

    It’s the big, rounded glassess that ruined her perfect sculpture.

    ” What ? ” Catherine blurted out as the man in the navy suit gaped at her. Her eyes went over his shoulder where she spotted a shiny piece under a mall bench. ” There !! ”

    Jumping to her feet, she ran and dove under the bench to grab the ring which slipped onto her finger easily.

    ” Got it ! ” Catherine turned to the man and held it out triumphantly.

    ” Jesus !! ” Kay went to her and wrapped his hand around her wrist. ” Don’t you know that it’s a bad luck to have other woman wearing your fiancee’s ring ? “.

    ” Bad luck ? What bad luck ? ” she instantly asking without thinking.

    ” Arghhh .. Nevermind. ”

    Plucking the ring from her finger, he glared at the young woman. ” Good luck with the fruit. ”

    ” Huh ? “, Catherine reply idiotly.

    Turning around, Kay rushed down the mall corridor leaving Catherine to pick up the remaining contents of the basket.

    Two weeks later …

    ” Excuse me everyone. May I have your attention please ? ” Euphemia Connor, Human Resource manager, called out to gathered crowd. ” As I already announced at the beginning of this year, we had few changes in personal appraisal system and now each department will have one of their own employee of this year. ”

    Catherine continued typing reports that Jarvis wanted for his meeting tomorrow. She had worked through lunch since he needed her to gather the information from their company portal and the process had been majorly bogged down when her computer crashed.

    Her stomach worms began to transformed into a raging and starving komodo dragon. Her vision blurred as she looked over at the crowd of people waiting in anticipation for who will be the best employee to be called.

    She never won these things.

    Euphemia opened the envelopes one after another and shouting out loud names. She begin with her own department then moved with marketing, finance, IT support and ” the last one is … ” she purposedly paused to add a dramatic moment. ” Catherine Higgins from General Affairs. ”

    Several people looked around at one another in question as they saw nobody stepping forward.

    ” I don’t think there’s anyone with that name working here. ” someone from the crowd told the woman holding the paper.

    ” Hey !! Wait !! ” Maylene, who had just emerged from restroom, shouted.

    Catherine felt someone grab her wrist to stand her up and she looked to her co – worker in confusion.

    ” What ? ”

    Maylene ignoring her cousin and shout again. ” Ladies and gentleman. I proudly present you, Catherine Higgins from General Affairs. ”

    Catherine looked over to the crowd who was clapping their palms.

    Euphemia emerged from the sea of people to stand in front of her.

    ” Congratulations dear. ” she handed Catherine the manila envelope. ” Inside are your plane tickets and your hotel reservation for this weekend. You get Monday off with pay to recover. “.

    The woman shook Catherine’s limp hand. ” Have fun. ”

    ” T – thank you. ” Catherine said to the manila envelope in her palm before turning to Maylene with her eyes wide in amazement.

    ” See, I told ya’ ” Maylene smirk then winked.

    ” Oh, my God May. I – I .. ”

    ” Easy now, darl. ” Maylene firmly placed her hands on Catherine’s shoulders to , her smile bright in excitement. ” You’re the best now and the question left is …. ” Maylene closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she glued her forehead to Catherine’s. ” Who are you going to take with you ? ”

    Crap. She didn’t think of that.

    Reply
  152. Zaina

    This is what I wrote, it’s the beginning of my first chapter of my story. Please give feedback!

    “Cadence! Cadence what are you doing up there you’re going to be late to school.” yelled Jade while full of frustration.
    “Coming mum, just packing up my bag.” replied Caydy in a relaxed tone opposite to her mother’s.
    Around two minutes later, Caydy hurried quickly down-stairs and put on her dull black school shoes. Jade came into the room and started lecturing Caydy about when people should pack their school bags.
    “I’m telling you this for the hundredth time Cadence: pack up your bag before going to bed. Two minutes of your reading time won’t kill you but going out two minutes late to school in the morning can.” declared Jade, “And take the bike with you today: so that you may have a chance of getting there before 8:30.”
    Caydy stood up, got her bag and took the bike carefully out of the garage, slid onto the seat and cycled to school.
    The road to school was very short. It would take around 7 minutes walking and 4 minutes by bike. Caydy would normally walk to Tessa’s house – which is on the way to school – then finish her journey to school along with Tessa. Although today, Caydy was cycling alone as Tessa would be at school by now.
    Suddenly, Caydy saw her phone ring. Luckily, she was wearing her earplugs which were already connected to her phone. She looked at the name; it was Abi. She pressed answer.
    “Hi Abi, what’s up?” asked Caydy.
    “What do you mean ‘ what’s up ‘? Where are you? We’re worried about you, especially Tessa.” said Abi. You could notice a slight tone of fear in her voice.
    “I left the house late because: I forgot to pack my bag before going to bed yesterday night. Again. But don’t worry I’m on the way.” replied Caydy calmly.
    “Caydy, its 8:28. We’re the last people outside now. You must hurry.”
    “Ok, I’ll be a minute. “replied Caydy” You guys go inside, I’ll …”
    Suddenly, while not noticing, Caydy’s bike tripped over an unusual rock lying in the middle of the footpath. The bike flipped forwards and threw Caydy off it where she landed next to a tall old tree. Caydy lay on the floor with blood soaking through her tights staining the cement which lay between the bricks. If anyone would be in Caydy’s state by now they would either be screaming or feeling the pain while trying to hide it and get over it. But Caydy was in neither of these states.
    “Abi, Abi help! Quick! “shrieked Caydy.
    Caydy tried to get herself up – but when she did, she collapsed instantly smacking her head on to the concrete pavement. Her phone sat facing upwards on the rough floor a couple of centimetres away, still on call with Abi.
    “Caydy, Caydy what happened? Where are you?” asked Abi.
    No one answered. Caydy still lay on the floor, breathing rapidly but with no sign of her consciousness. Tessa snatched the phone out of Abi hands and put it on speaker.
    “Caydy, what happened?” said Tessa in a panicking tone.” Are you okay?”
    But still with no hope, no one answered. All they heard where the sound of quick breaths going in and out rapidly.
    “She’s not going to answer. Something happened, you go inside. I’m going to go back in the route Caydy usually takes and check what happened to her.” instructed Tessa.
    “No! If Caydy isn’t here by registration: we tell Mrs.Levings. We can’t risk you going out too.” said Kyla.
    But Tessa wasn’t listening. She ran out of the school gates to check on her cousin.
    “What if something really has happened to her?” thought Tessa. “I hope she’s okay.”
    Tessa kept running at her fastest speed. She was sweating madly as if someone was pouring a bottle of hot boiling water on her head. Her legs started to get tied up as they couldn’t keep hold of her. As Tessa turned the corner; her eyed where pulled towards a figure of a 16 year old girl thrown on the floor with a river of blood rushing out onto the footpath and then sprinting till they reached the sewage hole on the road.
    “Oh my God! “whispered Tessa.
    She was frozen to the spot. She couldn’t move as all the fear and thoughts of all the bad things that could’ve happened to Caydy came to her mind. Tessa suddenly remembered what they have learnt about in their last history lesson: The beginning of heat strokes- Douglas J.Casa. As it was quoted by the video they watched, it mentioned: “Heat strokes are 100% survivable although if action isn’t taken quickly then the victim might not have a full chance of survival. You should always call for help immediately in this matter as cell damage can begin 30 minutes after the victim is affected by the heat stroke.”. Tessa started breathing rapidly and quickly ran to Caydy. She kneeled down next to her and put her hand on Caydy’s jumper above her chest. She was still breathing. Tessa quickly took out her phone from her backpack to call the ambulance. Just as she was opening her phone, she collapsed.

    Reply
  153. Nicki

    Some years ago I moved to South Africa from the UK. Now I’m considering writing about the experience but I wrote this in a little more than 17 minutes, so please excuse…
    ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
    Considering Moving to South Africa 1994

    ‘You want to move to South Africa?’ Asked my mother.
    ‘Wasn’t there a security problem there?’ Queried my father.
    ‘You can’t be serious?’ My mother added.

    The tone of their questioning was no different to experiencing a cross examination by the Head at my former school, and that was a long time ago. But I was serious. I felt more than ever I wanted to go. To move. To leave London.

    ‘Didn’t you also leave your home country to come here – once upon a time? So what would be the big deal about me and my husband leaving?’ I said.

    My parents lapsed into silence. They should have realised that running to the so called Promised Land was something we were good at doing; emigrating was in our blood. Always hoping wherever you lay your hat, it would be in our own home, where you no longer pressed your nose against a window pane and looked in.

    I went to the local bookshop to the travel section and purchased a book on moving to South Africa. The book I chose was honest about moving to South Africa: a country that was beautiful but with a history of discrimination and division, it seemed to say. I even made contact with the South African embassy, and asked to be sent some literature or magazines on the country. About a few days later, I received a newsletter and SA newspapers.

    But what was motivating me to be doing all of this. Why the need to leave, I asked myself. Having graduated from University in the 80s, my husband and I had lived all over the UK and now Croydon. I had worked in several places but I hadn’t a clue as to what I really wanted to do. I wanted to study various things do part-time or full-time courses but what – I didn’t know. Friends were doing things, I felt. Moving on from their flats into long term houses; making progress in their work, holidaying several times a year. And even though we had a mortgage on a flat, we were far away from owning a house in the better parts of Croydon but I felt stuck: fear crept into this mix of pessimism.

    Of course, I would be eternally grateful to England for enabling me to go to school, winning a scholarship to study Music, obtaining a grant to go to University. Grateful for the health service which made it possible for me to enjoy continual good health. But I felt at this point, England had given me all it wanted to give, and it simply was not going to give me anymore. I could feel the top of my head touching that proverbial glass ceiling and the more I pushed, the more it kept its resilience.

    And somehow, observing the number of TV programs and documentaries on SA, I felt as though the whole thing was enticing me to come.

    It was also timely that my husband had been invited to attend a work shop in Cape Town to present a paper on the importance of Information Technology in Africa. He called me the day he arrived and gushed about the city’s beauty and lushness. His hotel room gave him an unlimited view of Table Mountain and intended on his final day to take cable car to mountain. But also, I mentioned to him there was no harm in checking out the recruitment agencies to see if they had anything to offer.

    Two days later, he called and told me he went to three agencies, and one, definitely felt there was something for someone with his skills and experience…

    Reply
  154. Ma. Patricia Vien Ramos

    There is nothing much I could offer. I have no luxurious cars, no fancy dogs to brag about, no sparkling jewelries to model, and no elite parties to recommend. I only have myself, and my heart is the only thing I can offer.

    No matter how many times I try to be positive about my future, something bad always happens in the end. I end up liking a guy liking my best friend. I have a crush on someone who is going to use my kindness. It now has occurred to me that love is not my thing – romantic love, that is. I am the kind of girl that people does not refer to as beautiful at first sight, they would have to know me to say that. I do not have such wonderful body, I have fats overlapping more fats. My voice sounds manly, my legs hairy, my teeth are imperfect, my eyebrows are thick, and my haair is frizzy. In short, I am someone you can describe as unattractive or in honest terms, ugly.

    Ugly people like do not end romantic things happily. We can dream about good things, let our minds wander, but when reality hits you, it is something that can really wake you up. Guys do not like ugly girls. Girls like me like guys who are out of their leagues. I like guys who are out of my leagues. I consider these guys perfect, and they consider me less than ordinary. I used to have glasses and I did not want to think of the things they know about me.

    My mother is such a beautiful creature that even she is married and have a baby, some Chinese suitor still comes to her offering things. Her mom would shoo him away but to no avail. My mom attracts a lot of guys and even at her golden age, men find her alluring. I do not have the kind of smile she has, the charisma she brings into the room. I can be inside a room plenty of poeople and nobody cann hardly notice me (unless my friends look for me). I am the girl satisfied to be the girl at the side of the room, watching, observing, thinking what could have happened if things are not this way. I guess you can call me a dreamer because I am. I spend most of my time dreaming of scenarios that are never going to happen in the future.

    I am the girl with broken dreams. Since I am ugly, I guess there is little to no chance of landing to a perfect job since perfect jobss are for perfect people and perfect people reproduce more perfect people. I wonder what happened when my mother conceived, did I develop naturally? Are they sure I am their daughter because, if my parents are so good looking, what happened to me? You would have thought I inherited my father’s dimples and charms, my mother’s physique and style, but no. I simply came from another world. I guess there are times my parents thought I thought of myself as a boy. My mom gets mad when I say that my things are “too girly.” She would bellow “Are you a guy!?” and it does not matter where we are. I used to think that whatever toys boys can have, I can too because how can I play with them if I do not know what they are playing? I like to befriend both sexes. And I think being too friendly with guys scared her.

    Maybe have a lot of guy friends is because I am ugly. They do not fall for me because, what is there to fall for? My fats? Damn! They can be friends with me as much as they like without worrying of hurting my feelings or making me fall for them. All they know is

    —– 15 mins is up ——-

    Reply
  155. Tylar Stone

    Edgar’s .38 special felt heavy in his hand. He barely felt the burn of chilled steel laying flat in his numb palm. He stared at it with the conviction of someone who has nothing to live for. The moon’s reflection on the hard barrel of the six-gun was brighter than the dancing reflection on the river.
    > He sat in an old oak rowboat; the wood rotting in places. Edgar’s pale blue eyes unfocused as they filled with tears. He blinked and a drop of salty water fell from his ghostly face. He wiped both eyes with the back of his free hand, blinked hard, then opened them. His eyes focused on the water beginning to pool up in the bottom of the boat. He frowned and looked at the moon. It was like the world was asking him to die sooner.
    > His late-wife had always thought the world was out to get her. Panic attacks and anxiety isolated her to their studio apartment, where she would, for hours or days, stare out of the window overlooking the city streets below. The crimson veins in the whites of her eyes pointed to her dilated pupils, thin grey irises eclipsed by the deep black.
    > He thought of her then as the water soaked into his white walking shoes. He licked his lips, they were cold, cracked and he tasted blood on them. The iron reminded him of growing up in the farmlands of Wisconsin. The well water was rich with an iron taste that he had altogether forgotten since he moved to the Twin Cities.
    > The Mississippi river was wide here, and the current was slow. October in Minnesota was always cold, not cold enough to snow, but it often got below freezing at night. Edgar’s heavy winter jacket was doing little to keep the cold out. His finger tips were blue, and his feet might as well have not been there at all. The water was up to his ankles and he couldn’t see his feet any longer. He looked back at the city skyline behind him. White lights on black structures sprawled across the horizon. He turned and faced forward again, The trees were beginning to close in on the river bank and they were getting denser.
    > He raised the gun absent-mindedly as his frostbitten fingers closed on the grip. He pulled a lever and flicked the gun to the side, a metallic thud as the cylinder came into view; six bullets. He flicked the gun to the other side and it snapped back into place. His thumb caught the hammer, and he pulled it back, surprised his frozen hand could still do the work. He turned the gun until the barrel looked him in the eyes, silver ring and black hole. His index finger squeezed. An ear drum piercing bang, and a hot white light from the blackness. Then, nothing.

    Reply
  156. Casey weber

    Trapped
    I wake up in a cold dark room. My head hurts and the only thing I can hear is myself breathing. The silence kills me and the darkness makes me feel alon