if you're reading this it's about youi told myself i would never write of love again but god if you’re going to read anything of mine again make it thisif you're reading this it's about you6 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
you are light and laughter you are dusty bookshelves and warm quilts you are autumn rains and summer skies you are empty frames and wilted flowers you are whirlwinds and hurricanes you are daggers and diamonds you are red lips and matching nails you are seafoam and sand you are magazine clippings and outstretched hands and worn doorknobs and broken lightbulbs and closed windows and open eyes, open hearts, you are something ethereal and otherworldly and there is hell in your mind and heaven in your soul and i want to ease your pain but i cannot no matter how hard i try so all i can do is hope that your charred skin will bloom again in the spring, i will hold you and cradle you and lift your body to the sun and give you all the time you need just please, please don’t give up on me, don’t you dare i love you so much i love you i love you come back to me wak
My Shot In Santa Fe | Tumbleflame and EmberlightI am not throwing away my shotMy Shot In Santa Fe | Tumbleflame and Emberlight10 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I am not throwing away my shot
I am just like my country
I am young
The brown tabby pelt twisted into rank alongside all the other mottled shapes shifting in the darkness. His first battle. His first true battle. He wasn’t sure if this was excitement or trepidation coursing through his veins, but it all came to a standstill watching Chillstar direct them to the water when MoonClan gave the signal. He hardly knew cats outside of GladeClan and even then, most cats were strangers…he had not been like Swanpaw, he had not reached out, too caught up in clinging to those he remembered than to try to create new memories…perhaps that would come bite him back now, as they approached a battlefield where he was not sure he would be able to distinguish between friend and foe.
Staring at the group around him, doing what he could to memorize pelts, sizes, shapes, scents, anything that would clue him in when the fur started to
Emotions and Sensations: InspirationInspiration is a fickle spirit.Emotions and Sensations: Inspiration10 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Snickers drift in her wake, bubbly and contagious. A smirk dances across her lips, laced with mystery. Her silk gown, blue and pink like the skies from all time, sway around her with graceful swishes. Capricious by heart, she does what she wants. She's weightless without burdens. She's always there when you're occupied and gone when you're free. She appears in every fleeting moment and leaves in the next. Her skin, her limbs, her fingertips - they're transparent to the eyes. She's the force no one expects to meet. Her hair is a galactic ocean, a sight to marvel over. Locks of it expand and branch out to every nook, to every cranny of the universe.
She is inspiration, and she's anywhere and everywhere at once.
Papa Can You Hold My Hand? | Swanpaw and Chirpkitheavenly FatherPapa Can You Hold My Hand? | Swanpaw and Chirpkit12 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
May the light
Of this flickering candle
Illuminate the night
When your spirit illuminates
Swanpaw ducked her head, sending a prayer to the heavens. Please. Please let there be peace. Please let Chillstar return safely to her Clan and kits. Please let Raggedstorm not fall. Please let Junipermoon come home to her family. Please let Tumbleflame rise above his memories and fight, please let Dimlight be strengthened by the thought of his new kits…letting out a wavering breath that plumed about her muzzle like a ghostly wreath, she shivered, tucking closer to her charges. Little kits, tucked against her side, she counted their gray pelts, rasping her tongue over each one. Soon they too would be out at battles, wouldn’t they? Soon they too would rise to become apprentices as Swanpaw was. They too would learn to defend, to protect, to attack. She let her throat close for a moment at the thought. Was this what being a Clan cat meant?
To kill? To fight?
The MirrorDear Diary,The Mirror14 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Sorry I missed you yesterday, but I was dead on my feet when we got home. Can you believe Mom took me antiquing yesterday? Seriously, ANTIQUING. Could you have picked a more old lady hobby? I swear, we were out for HOURS, wandering around these musty old shops, poking at shit that doesn’t work anymore. Ugh, what a waste of a Saturday.
We went AGAIN. Back to the oldest, dustiest antique shop so Mom could buy the china plates she talked herself out of yesterday. Please tell me I don’t have to eat off those ugly blue things. Gross.
It wasn’t a total loss though; while Mom was haggling over the price, I wandered off to check out the old cameras again. Those were actually kinda cool. That’s when I saw this huge, black mirror I swear wasn’t there yesterday. It must be a century old – thick, ornate frame, tarnished sil
Short Road Tripone carShort Road Trip17 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Negative FontShe wrote to you in papyrus.Negative Font18 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
The typeface contradicts the bitter adieu written on the page. Each word makes you hate calligraphy. You imagine her sitting, her back against the ocean, listening to the wind within the reeds. She ran away to him and summer; you remain with nothing and the winter.
You rip pages from your notebook, pick up a pen and scrawl in Impact. You forget she’s long gone and throw the memories away.
little lonely pulsarlittle lonely pulsar20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Vela pointed her beam towards the Earth and prayed.
There were so many worlds out there, so many stars. She didn't know if anyone could hear her, but she hoped.
The others like her were cold and distant. They never talked to her.
But the Earth! Even from so far away she could see...things coming from the Earth. Things traveling in all directions.
She knew it could mean only one thing: the Earth was lonely, just like her.
It was looking for a friend.
Nine LivesHer 1st life:Nine Lives21 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
She walked out across the street, not noticing the bus coming full-speed at her. A male jumped out and grabbed her right before it would have hit her.
"I promise to protect you," he whispered in her ear.
Her 2nd life:
She skated down the ice rink giggling happily with her friends. She hit a bump in the ice and began to fall backwards. He grabbed her right before her head hit the ice.
"I promise to protect you," he whispered in her ear.
Her 3rd life:
She lay in a hospital bed dying of cancer. He wrapped his warm hand around her, "I promise to protect you," he whispered in her ear.
She survived the cancer.
Her 4th life:
She drove her car down the street late at night. Unaware of the traffic around her, she proceeded to drive through a red light. He appeared beside her, as though he was there the whole time, and lifted her calmly out of the seat, taking her spot. He swerved away from the traffic.
"I promise to protect you," he whispered in her ear.
Her 5th life:
She was cook
Zombie Apocalypse “What’s the first thing you would do,” I ask, “in a zombie apocalypse?”Zombie Apocalypse22 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
My roommate cocks his head. “Get the hell out of dodge?” he offers. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He peers around the room contemplatively. “Can we get out?”
“Of the house?” I clarify. He nods and I hum thoughtfully, imagining the scenario. “The house is clear, but the zombies are on the road. Lots of them, like the big hoards you see in the movies.”
“Well, we’d need food,” he says dryly. “We never seem to have enough.”
I nod in agreement, thinking of the empty freezer. “And bottled water.”
He raises and eyebrow. “We’d have water.”
“Not for long,” I counter. “Always better to be prepared, right?”
A Light DrizzleThe dirt walls are a pale orange, funneling sky through waves of rock and dousing us in starlight: bullets of fire shot through a canvas of ebony. Tangerine crevices catch tides of laughter, brewing and releasing them around us like a conductor orchestrating a symphony.A Light Drizzle1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
The ground rumbles gently, coaxing us forward- the sand gathering behind us in dusk’s last exhale.
“We should go,” I mutter, feeling the anxiety bubble in my stomach.
“Oh, calm down. We’re almost there.”
I reach into an over-stuffed backpack, rummaging for a headlamp. Water bottle. Camera. Phone. Ah, got it.
I’m peppered with rain.
“Does anyone’s phone have service? We should let someone know we’re down here.”
Our voices have acquired a new vibrato, born from the body of the slot canyon or the trembling of our vocal chords. My hair is damp around my shoulders, waking the beads of sweat from salty skin and lofting
Where my lucky stars crossed. I got lost out there somewhere, but I don't remember when. They did say that being off the medicine so long would make me go back to normal. Or, not so normal. I forget sometimes that I'm the one with the problem.Where my lucky stars crossed. 1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I remember brushing the dust off of my shoes when I got off the bus. Where I'd come from, there wasn't a lot of grass. The ground was just dry dirt. It got everywhere, in people's houses, in the stores, in my shoes. It was something that I'd gotten used to, but when I got off and saw the grass everywhere, it made me more conscious of it.
I took the last of my pills at the bus station. It made the bus ride a little more comfortable, and I remembered where I was supposed to get off. But once I did get off, I got lost out there somewhere. I don't remember when.
Some DaysSome days the words just don’t come to him. Some days they get stuck in the space between his frantically working mind and his stuttering lips. On those days his eyes refuse to acknowledge the sunrise, even as bright light filters into his room and illuminates the dust particles that drift lazily there. Instead the ever present threat of oncoming darkness grows steadily stronger until it holds the reins and directs his mind from sunrise to dusk and settles there. It settles there and sometimes, when its grip is especially firm, it stays, and even when his eyes watch a hundred more sunrises it refuses to see any of them. And so dusk remains.Some Days1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
The relentless and persistent gloom sometimes remains for so incredibly long that he can feel his mind trying to retreat, trying to fold into itself to get away. And it does fold into itself, sometimes managing to crawl so far back that the rest of him is barely there. On those days it’s as if he’s trapped within the confines of hi
The Yellow roomShe had never liked that room, it was at an odd angle so that the light never seemed to reach it, due to the building’s layout it was an odd shape a lazy s shape curling round supporting walls and taking in the excess space leftover by other rooms, and the wall paper put her strongly in mind of a book she had once read concerning women running around behind the patterning, that wasn’t exactly a reassuring image. There was no real furniture in the room, at least from what she could discern from glances through the door, some plush low seating that put her in mind of opium dens, and yet it was her Grandfathers favourite room, he would spend hours in there the door locked fast, she could hear him shuffling around, pacing up and down, doing, something, Lord only knew what.The Yellow room1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
It hadn’t surprised her that he had left the house to her when he passed, she had been the closest to him over the years, and was also the closet in relation still living, what had surprised her was the
Exercise 2/8/2016In the Programs, everything is possible.Exercise 2/8/20162 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I am seven years a mailman.
I am a winter sparrow.
I love you, whoever you are. I am Love itself.
I sit in a leather armchair in the vastest library one hundred thousand years, and I uncover, cherish, and forget.
I die in every way man has conceived. Every lifetime becomes the same lifetime.
I play games; wargames and city-building games and games of chance. I bet my money. I bet my immortal soul. I bet a disgusting sexual act. I bet one, fine chocolate.
I learn to love in all the ways of love. I learn the common ways and the uncommon ways and the detested ways and the ways of which Man has only dreamed.
I learn science and I learn computing. They show me the code of the Programs, and without a word I understand. I add to the code. I offer my connections.
I meditate ten years beneath the Bodhi tree. I wander the desert wastes in full hunger, thrice tempted. I sit on a comet a century and watch for the least perceptible motion.
Two years I tell j
The Walls of DeceptionYou once pleaded with me to follow you through one of the Doors of Perception, but I didn't want to take that trip. No, I had my happy and successful future all mapped out, and it was supposed to put me on a different plane than the one you were flying high on.The Walls of Deception2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Yet you were the one who landed laughing. My trip ended in a crash. You are still seemingly young and wild and free. The world can remain your oyster, with you as its pearl.
I am trapped here, where I have found myself encircled by walls which themselves are surrounded by trenches and barbed wire. This is a prison of my own making, a hellish price I pay for my deceit, my errors, my never-rectified human mistakes. The system chained me, tried me, convicted me and won't ever again allow me to know freedom.
I rarely dream now, but when I do it is of you and that endless trip you're still on. You are still a diamond, Lucy - a diamond in the sky.
StarThe sounds of rapid footsteps carried over to where I sat, kneeling on the floor in utter despair. Suddenly a pair of crisp black shoes appeared in my line of vision. I wiped the remaining tears from my eyes as I gazed upwards. It was none other than my dear old mentor, Frederick – the greatest violinist ever to grace the modern day classical scene.Star2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
He furrowed his dark eyebrows, most probably shocked about the current state I was in. “Isabelle…whatever is the matter, my lovely?”
“H-how can the so-called star of the show can perform with this broken instrument?!” I shoved the tattered violin slightly above me so he could have a better inspection.
I couldn’t even bring myself to look at my once treasured possession. It only reminded me of the horrific moment when earlier on I opened my case to reveal a graffiti covered violin with broken strings.
EnvyLet me introduce myself, for my name is Envy. You may recognise me as one of the Seven Deadly Sins.Envy2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
It’s my duty, in which I take great pleasure in, is to show you – yes, you – what coveted items and people others have while you possess absolutely nothing. They’re far greater than you, weakling, and that fact alone drives you crazy. So crazy that you grow embittered and resentful towards them because of your so-called inferior complex.
I have no physical form, therefore I reside in the body of a temptress with eyes as green as earthly emeralds. As you gaze into my eyes, there’s no escape – you’re simply held captive under my magnetic power. Once you’re mine, I’ll have access to every single jealous thought you have, displayed open like some pathetic story pertaining to your misery.
You feel my gentle breath caressing your ear as I whisper encouragement.
Part 2Beads of sweat have gathered along untamed brows, perched above a set of blossoming crows feet. I can feel them gather, cradling each particle birthed from my pores like a new member of the tribe.Part 22 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I’m housed by an affectionate curtain of silk, pouring from my scalp like tendrils from a peppermint tree, cloaking me a fog of tee tree oil and vanilla. The sidewalk streams beneath my padded feet, reflections gliding alongside me in perfect rhythm, an army of Helios’ warriors.
A small fire ignites the nook of my lower back. I am kindling.
“Hello?” My troupes blur and bend, leaving only a silk curtain to guard me.