.:Are You There Darling:.I heard footsteps. Outside. In the dark..:Are You There Darling:.19 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
What is happening. I can't see.
Is something wrong. I cant hear.
Darling why are you crying. I cant, I don't know. Where are you.
I heard the bang.
I can't feel you close to me anymore.
Handy Man :Contest Entry:Complete tool kit: gum, clips, imagination . . .Handy Man :Contest Entry:22 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Thoughts of Magnus PariahThe Thoughts of Magnus Pariah13 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It is the usual scene.
A gloomy night, overcast and threatening rain. A man sits in his study and contemplates the glass before him. It’s full of wine, rich and red. A classical piece plays on a gramophone that has been highly cared for. Perhaps, even, cared for more than the man cares for himself.
That man is Magnus Pariah.
And he is me.
My life is built around routine. A series of events that play themselves over day after day with very little to disturb the pattern.
Wake up, get dressed, eat, make sure the residents are behaving, drink, drink, drink, go to bed.
And, just occasionally, kill.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m going insane. Stir crazy, at the very least. I can’t remember the last time I left the house. Can’t remember the last time I went further outside than my own back garden. It seems silly, but the thing that holds me back is fear.
I find a great comfort in the walls that surround me. This is home. I know who I am here, I know my role and I play it w
UntitledGlue cannot bind emotions,Untitled1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Romantics P1Beckett and Stephy were what one would call childhood sweethearts. The two twelve-year-olds had seen a movie earlier in the day and had enjoyed a small dinner as well, before getting picked up and taken back to Beckett’s house.Romantics P11 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The brunette lad had longish hair, much like Stephy, except that the girl’s hair was a little longer. When Beckett arrived home, he’d kicked his shoes off and taken Stephy down to his room – which was clean… a world first.
“So that’s my room,” said Beckett, after showing her around. “So what would you like to do now?”
“I don’t know,” said Stephy, thinking. The boy had a television on his chest of drawers and a small DVD collection. Stephy looked through them.
“Want to watch Paper Planes?” she asked. Beckett smiled and nodded.
“Sure, I’ll put it on, make yourself comfortable,” the boy said. Stephy grinned and slipped her sandals off and sat up on the bed, c
Freedom - Day 145It was a grey, solemn life he had lived in this prison.Freedom - Day 1451 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He had made a big mistake, decided to fight the law. And as the lyrics go, the law won. A quick trial, a quick transport in a bus full of men just as horrid and psychotic as he was, and a quick adjustment to life behind bars.
The beatings were easy. It was the threats that had screwed with him. His mind had been twisted and corrupted by the other prisoner's words and made him think this was hell. But, as horrible as it was, he guessed it was better than living in a dungeon.
Suddenly, one day, after years of torment and broken bones, he was released. It was a sunny day and light was streaming in through the windows high above him in the hall outside. A large man suddenly walked into his line of light and he heard the sound of metal clattering against metal. He watched as the rusted steel bars swung open. He saw the silhouette of an angel standing in the doorway.
“Alright, out.” He said roughly, jerking a thumb backwards
WWC #33: A Reflection of Fear“It’s not you, it’s me.” he apologized to the mirror. “I just can’t do this any more. I thought I could. I thought I was being brave, facing my fears.” He traced one of the jagged edges. “I was lying to myself, and you paid for it. And I’m sorry.”WWC #33: A Reflection of Fear1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He pulled on his gloves and started picking up the pieces of shattered mirror around him. The mirror had seen him through so many transformations over the years, but it never occurred to him that he’d never actually seen himself fully transformed until he heard the crash and saw one of his oversized colorful shoes lying next to it.
It’s hard to be a clown when you live with coulrophobia.
Glass Between Us Snow drifts sweetly through the sky like a piece of art, the world a beautiful deep blue and grey background with the sinking night. The house is tucked between small cozy snow drifts. A dim glow slips out the windows across the smooth shimmering surface, the flakes cuddling so close it nearly appears a solid surface.Glass Between Us1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A fire crackles as it dances in its warm brick frame. The sweet hum of the liquid flames its own melody that drifts the rest of the room into piece. The gentle glow slips across the room lining the walls and corners in golden light. Sweet shadows leak across the room carrying nothing but a reminder of reality.
The intoxicating scent of pine and gingerbread leaks between the rooms trapped by a thick oak door firmly shut against the wailing wind. The house stands strong as not even a whisper breaks the deep peace inside.
Deep green dressed in blues, silvers, and reds twinkle with the false light of small bulbs shaped like
The Abode of the Weary The silence takes on a weary aspect of oppression, and the gloom of the wan silvery light of an overcast sky only deepens my nostalgic melancholy.The Abode of the Weary14 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The room that I call mine, cluttered, out of order and out of sync. Or maybe it is synchronized, but not the random assortment of beer cans and toppled broom sticks, and dirty clothes in the corner covering the basket which is supposed to hold them- no, these things are definitely not assorted in any kind of pattern or arranged with any amount of thought, just random chaos- maybe this mess has become attuned to the life that I now lead, an even grander architecture overlapping the themes of my life throughout. Maybe I’m just slightly neurotic. I don’t care to know, the thought fills me with trepidation.
Outside I hear the rain falling in patters against the window, and I can see in my mind the river flooding, but it’s distant from me so I am bey
a second opiniona second opinion1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Dr. Klein, there’s a…snake here to see you.”
“Does it have an appointment?”
“I’m not sure,” said the receptionist, “I’m too scared to ask.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Dr. Klein walked down to the waiting room and saw that there was indeed a large, somehow familiar snake there. It hissed at him.
“Is that you Mr. Delaney? Did you already meet the specialist I referred you to?”
“Ssssssssss” said the snake.
“What do you mean ‘which doctor’? I gave you his card.”
“SSSSSSSSSSSSS” hissed the snake.
“Oh,” said Dr. Klein, “witch doctor.”