Culpa I: EcfigiaEl viaje había sido exhaustivo en exceso, había deducido que no tendría que preocuparse mucho, la tarea encomendada parecía en realidad sencilla en exceso.Culpa I: Ecfigia13 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
¿Qué mejor que ocupar los días libres que se le habían presentado? Lo mejor, había pensado, era quitarse de encima la deuda de una vez y buscar de nuevo el descanso que tanto le había faltado en los últimos meses.
Irónico, que quién había tratado de lastimarle –y hasta matarle- viniera buscando su ayuda; pero peor aún era haber accedido a hacerlo.
Stern se encontró a sí misma quejándose de la hierba por varias horas, jurando que estaba perdida y que probablemente la noche la asaltaría aún entre árboles abundantes y plantas inmensas.
Para cuando finalmente encontró el pueblo el rey había adquirido una rencilla personal contra todo lo que tuviera clorofila.
Estaba cuestionándose cuánta gente foránea r
Reborn Networking C1Reborn Networking:Reborn Networking C14 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters
Chapter 1: The X-tra Cycle
????: Where am I....? What is this place?
????: He's coming to! It's still 50% but still....!
????: Wha.....? I'm rebooting...? Wait....so many things coming back to my head....!
????: You will go on....and fulfill my revenge.....!
.....I'm starting to get a firm grasp on its intentions.......HIS intentions....
????: No....I won't......I'm....me.....!!!!
Wait.....what is this light?
[Makenai Ai ga Kitto Aru - VF Instrumental plays (from first verse)]
????: Quick! He's awakening!
The sound of a cryo-container opens up.
The sound...that's typical of a robot like me......
But.....it would seem not just any robot....
A girl's voice appears and holds a mirror next to me.
????: We've been putting
Clocktober #5 - Billy Joel's Piano ManClocktober #5 - Billy Joel's Piano Man4 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Reporting live from the bar, where none other than the Piano Man himself plays tonight. The bulk of the town is gathered here, but it's the regulars that deserve further mention. Yes, there's many a flavor in this collection of mid-life crisis; let's check 'em out.
A classic example rests in that grey-haired man next to the piano, whose future is blurry from all that tonic and gin. He does recall better times fondly, requesting songs from an era that saw him with the vigor he now lacks. Also present is John the barman, dreaming of making it big in Hollywood, and yet resigned to a reality that ties him down to this bar. Someone else has unrealized business here; it's that so called 'real state novelist', swearing up and down he'll soon finish a novel that will put him on the map. Perhaps he's promised to take the barman with him. However, his novel is less than half complete, and he's slept more times at the bar's floor than he's done at his own home. John would be wise not to inject an
The Cynical BusinessmanThe Cynical Businessman3 hours ago in Short Stories
Fear. It’s a powerful force, isn’t it? The idea that one’s very being may hang in the balance of some event, however minor it may be, is soul-consuming. It’s what kept us humans alive while the Neanderthals froze in their caves. We know our time will be up some day, and we do everything in our power to milk what little time we have for something that fools would call ‘meaningful’.
All bullshit, naturally. There’s nothing meaningful in this world beyond the simple exchange of things they covet. Money, power, possessions, love, it’s all the same. It’s about gratification, and doing whatever one can to get it. The stupid ones leap to get whatever they can while they can, while the smart ones wait in the shadows until the big catch comes.
How else do you think I rose to the top? By skill, talent, or expertise? No. I got up here by using the right people, gratifying them when necessary and in turn rising through the ranks. Higher and hig
Blackberry ChildAutumn, Year 762 of the New AgeBlackberry Child22 hours ago in Short Stories
Glenmore, the Glenwood
Featuring: Magnus and Glenda
Mentioning: Princess Antigone, Lord Marrec, various unnamed Ladies
With the leaves turning fiery and the days shortening, the cold winds swept rut into the isles. Magnificent stags trampled the ground as doting does looked onwards. On finer days, loud cheering could be heard accompanying challenging roars.
Glenda never really enjoyed the season unless she had a fawn by her side. Rut usually made her feel squeamish and tense. But this rut was different. She had Magnus all to herself this time, his smaller hoofbeats trying to match her stride as they traipsed through the Glenwood. She was going to a small get-together with some other royal ladies. Nothing terribly impressive, but she insisted Magnus come with her for the day. The dunalino sent her foster daughter off on a playdate, and allowed Cinder some leisure time once her hair was fixed just how she liked it.
The Road Home2013.The Road Home14 hours ago in Short Stories
Somewhere in Pennsylvania.
There's no point in me trying to sleep right now. I'm just too damn nervous, or excited, or both. In a few hours I'll be a free man, and all I can think about is what I'm planning to do with those first few minutes of newfound freedom.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call me the oldest inmate at Greenville Penitentiary. I've been here since around 1963, maybe a month or two after Oswald played target practice with President Kennedy's head. The guy who held the record before me, this crusty old bastard named Dicky Jensen, had been sixty-two when they threw him in jail for aggravated manslaughter, his paltry sentence of ten years almost guaranteed to be a death sentence. He loved to talk about his granddaughter-he'd tell anyone who would listen about how she was studying to become a writer at Brown, and how beautiful and kind she was-and in the two
coccinellidae: frecklessoftly biting your supple kutnohorite lips with slightly crooked kernite teeth, as i continue to stare into your <love> forsaken jadite eyes. a dainty powellite skinned body wrapped in a glorious jeremejevite sundress, like a velvety pupa made of polyester. pinning back the strands of short & sleek hübnerite hair <that resembles the setae of a hypercompe scribonia's larvae>, before i intertwine your sylphlike fingers with mine. 'it's like we're both drowning' you timidly whisper <to me>, causing a persistent confusion for the rest of the day as it lingers about in the back of my mind. i wish you could have told me what you meant by that phrase, before you left <me>.coccinellidae: freckles14 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Kintsukuroi We huddled in blankets by the fire, listening to the steady drumbeat of rain on the roof. You watched the fire and I watched their dancing reflection in your eyes. So close were we and yet I knew you to be somewhere, some when else. I curled deeper into our nest and waited.Kintsukuroi17 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
The fire’s spell died when the flames turned to throbbing coals. Shaky and unsure came your words. I took the mug from your hands, setting it on the hearth. It left its chill and an empty space that my fingers snuck into. As warmth slowly returned, your grip tightened and faster came your story, spilling out like water from the clouds.
Is it possible to dislike someone one’s never met? I think so. Your last lover to start. Someone so prone to dropping people like dishes should not have picked you up. Of course, I can see why she did. So beautiful and sturdy are you; a pottery piece handcrafted with love