It's the End of the World as We Know It((Jasper POV))It's the End of the World as We Know It2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The sun is hanging low in the sky, barely hovering above the horizon, and the brisk autumn winds sweep through the streets, sending shivers through my body and reminding me that winter is rapidly approaching. Pulling my jacket closer, I continue making my way through the roads of the village. I have no destination in mind, but after a bit of wandering, I find myself standing on the walls of the harbor, staring down at the dark churning water below.
I could jump. I'm a strong swimmer, and the shock of the ice-cold water would at least be something recognizable in this unfamiliar town full of brass and gears. When I was given the opportunity for a fresh start, this isn't exactly what I had in mind. At worst, I expected another crowded, rushed city. At best, I hoped for something similar to Nacrene; small town, friendly residents, plenty on nature. And Steam seems like it could have been all that at one point. What I was not expecting was all the fighting and fire that goes
The TheatreSo many emotions together! So many smells! So many colours!The Theatre2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Can you feel it? Can you feel the skirt of the brunette next to you constantly brushing against your leg as she practically shudders with laughter-
Can you smell the perfume? Ah yes, that sweet fragrance that barely stands out among so many others. Yes, that one, the one of the elderly woman that just walked past, irritated, clearly not coming back to see the rest of the show, her silver hair shining in the dim lights…
The laughing lady, now so amused- oh she has so many worries, so many things to do! Working at the factory, day and night, night and day- but now! Now the posh man with the green jacket, trying to show his interest in her… he can’t even remember how long it’s been since his wife died, that bitter woman. He is so lonely, so lonely.
But not here.
Oh and- do I smell alcohol?
That poor sod, his girl left him for a richer man- and one day, one day, she’ll find out that a good he
Good girl gone RogueGood girlGood girl gone Rogue20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Gotta be the good girl I was raised to be. I could laugh in their face, how stupid they sound. I guess that's what a heartbreak can do. Over and over again, by the same guy none the less.
But don't let my smile fool you. I know how to protect myself. After something as stupid as that. I know how to protect my already torn up heart.
As long as I'm cold and sarcastic, that'll protect me.
Don't let them see your emotions. The second you do, you'll regret it. They'll tear you piece by piece until you're nothing but an empty husk of what you had been.
And then the tears gush out
How can something that happened over a year ago, still burn into my mind?
Give them the devious shark like smirk
Squint your eyes into a glare
My heart breaks and still tears at the edges of oblivion. No matter how long ago it was, it still hurts. But I'm no longer that good girl I'd once been long, long ago. I'm colder now. I'm more sarcastic, and I try
Memories written in the SandIt hurts to remember sometimes. The good times you want to cherish but then coming back to reality it hurts, lemon juice to a wound you thought was healed but burns like it was fresh.Memories written in the Sand22 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My mind is muddled. I slip and remember small events and smile happily knowing it had happened, but then the second I remember the reality I live in I break into tears. I want to remember him, the guy that I thought was close to being mine but was taken from me. We'd promised to still be friends but now we barely talk to one another. I don't out of fear of annoying him. It hurts, I want to cry. Before him I didn't know what it felt like to really like someone and to be liked back.
The smallest thoughts drag me into a memory, either one that makes me blush or one that makes me laugh or smile. I met up with him once before, a little after I told him I had feelings for him and he had given me his jacket while we stood outside in the cool night. Now every picture I see of a guy giving a girl his jacket
An Excerpt from the Lectures of ArithmeusAn Excerpt from the Lectures of Arithmeus; recorded by a student whose name remains unknownAn Excerpt from the Lectures of Arithmeus4 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Date: C. 50-100
And what is truth?
Does our nature incline us to seek for it, or for something like it? For fact, or for fictitious representation similar in some respect to fact? Does it exist of its own self, or because something calls it into being? These are questions with which we, as an entire being, as a collected mind, have not interested ourselves in, and yet I cannot fathom why. Why has this not yet been seriously confronted? Are we stones, deaf to the pleas of reason? We take for granted such simple things as that one and one are two. The greatest minds of our age have found ingenious ways to tell you which stars will be where at night, that Arimulos will be aligned with Marulos in three weeks, but God! Hasn’t it occurred to anybody to ask why?
Why are the stars where they are when they are, why do we exist, what is the meaning of it all? What is the sky blue? Why is anything wh
An Outcast's Taleiolet never meant to bring harm to anyone. Why would she? She was just an ordinary girl in college trying to get by, right? But there was something different about her, something that caused other kids to avoid the girl. The voices in her head that guided her throughout her life told her it was a bad idea, but she decided to let the place know of her condition. All hell broke looseAn Outcast's Tale2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Schizophrenia, A thing that drove people to madness and violence due to some hallucination, always to be feared, always to be violent, always to be looked down on. Most would try and get rid of them as soon as possible, try and live a normal life. But she knew better. She believed that the voices could be turned into something helpful, her auditory hallucinations helping her throughout her life, rather than harming her and telling her to kill people. She wanted people to know that it could be used for something good, but…
She became an outcast for her ideas, people avoiding her, people fearing her, peo
The Three DoorsThe man awoke to a blinding light, scourging his eyes until the man was forced to keep them closed for a substantial amount of time. His mind raced, wondering where he was that there would be such a potent light. A police station maybe? He didn’t hear any muttering or voices. In fact, there was no sound at all. The man regained strength in his eyes and opened them once more, prepared for the blinding light. He squinted, waiting for the light to subside, and it did, slowly. He tried his best to search his surrounding, but he could not make out much. Then, towards the back, appeared the silhouette of a man.The Three Doors3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Who are you?” asked the squinting man, commonly referred to as Thomas. It took a few seconds for the stranger to reply.
“It matters not who I am, but what stands behind me,” the stranger replied, referencing to three ominous doors behind him. Thomas rose from his bed, placing his blanked on top of his pillow. He walked carefully towards the stranger, try
RUMINATION #9: OUR GARDEN, (1/4)Earp woke up to see Rupert sitting on the large root of a very tall tree, eyes scanningRUMINATION #9: OUR GARDEN, (1/4)2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
the paper back novel from left to right. Earp recognized it was from Saturn and saw
it sort of as an anacharism.There were startlingly few printing presses’ available on only
a handful of moons “You might want to read this, Croak,” he said turning the page, the middle
aged frog entered Earp’s line of view with bandages across his chest, leaning beside Rupert’s
dangling legs to strike a match, with a throaty “It’s a fluff book,” he kindled his pipe
“Rupe, not something I’d read,” lungs inhaling more pollutants.
“Well, yah, it is on the surface,” Rupert’s eyes narrowed “Otherwise it wouldn’t
be entertaining,” flipping back a page to re-scan it. “But underneath, it asks all
these questions about identity n’stuff.” remaining enthralled despite his comment
“The perspectives change
PounderI run. My breath clings desperately to my lungs. There is an indecisive air in my head, like I’ve been here before. I wish only to leave the dark, dank, grey room behind. It seems to just go on and on. My bare feet slap against the hard, cold concrete that is the bane of my skin’s existence. I am breathing heavily and painfully, like a jab to my side, and a thick muscle bunches in my diaphragm and lungs. I have a slight difficulty in the pattern of my breath, but the pattern of my feet on the ground have rhythm. The doorway springs light throughout, splaying white into my eyes and on the floor. I reach it, and emerge fumbling and stumbling sightlessly into freedom’s bare arms. The light in my sensitive eyes clears, leaving me staring at a wall.Pounder2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The wall separates into two hallways on either side of me. Both stretch as far as I can see, even with my observative eyes. I panic. Which hallway to take? They are identical, both with vertical black and white stripes adorning
Night time is the bright timeThe screen's the only bright thing in the room. I huddle over it, basking in the cold warmth. Power or heating, I made my choice.Night time is the bright time2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Half midnight. Are they online?
Probably not. Still, worth waiting. I drum my fingers irritably on the desk top. God, they're never online these days. I tap the bottle of cheap beer with my pen.
The little green circle flickers on. Typing!
That's odd. Not the message, of course. But I've always made the first move, first lines of the conversation. I pull up my sleeves, sip the bottle.
[Hi! How';re you?]
Bugger, typo. Still, given the cold it's excusable.
[tired. Hey, can I ask you a question?]
My heart jolts, as it always bloody does whenever that golden phrase is trotted out. It never means anything. Last time it was about a type of yoghurt. It's like one of your lottery numbers coming up the day you didn't buy a ticket.
The little animation plays, letting me know that they're typing for a while. I finish the bottle, and sli
A WalkThe dream-like, baby blue skies and the vast, unending fields made my lonesome stroll less dreary. And as I strolled my mind wandered aimlessly between the happenings of life and the meaning of the stars. Yet, even in my thoughtful haze something struck me as so awe inspiringly beautiful that I froze in my tracks. A solitary rose bloomed upon a bush, but this was no ordinary rose. It was the most beautiful, reddest, most fragrant, most perfectly shaped rose known to God and Man. A rose so unarguably flawless that it must've been Mother Nature's finest and most prized creation. Knowing that this was a once in a trillion lifetimes opportunity I decide I must have it for myself. Gingerly, as one would approach a shrine to one's God or Goddess, I grip the rose around its stem. But alas! I retreat my hand for it has been pricked by the rose's inevitable thorn! What a dastardly thing to hide beneath such lush and vibrant petals! Then, to my great horror, a single petal falls from the rose anA Walk2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
people goO louco espera que as construções das linhas ferroviárias intergalácticas estejam completas para que possa esperar pelas carruagens dos comboios cadentes. Os bizarros e grotescos viajantes não sabem o seu nome, nem desejariam saber, mesmo tendo a oportunidade de obter algum tipo de excerto de informação aleatória que lhes movesse o auditório cerebral para uma imagem quase quebrada de algo que se camufla extraordinariamente na multidão apressada e desenfreada, argumentando os seus direitos, mas nunca os seus deveres, ou os próprios direitos dos seus iguais na cadeia alimentar do estatuto social. O louco, pela simples razão de ser demente sem eira nem beira, estende as suas falsas asas de cartão, alcatrão e penas e os transeuntes fazem o mesmo com as suas belas e orgulhosamente pomposas e reais lembranças da sua criação, o que o confunde bastante, embora isso não interesse nem às redes que dpeople go1 hour ago in Short Stories More Like This
Broken ToothShe was restless. Feeling the urge to move, to do something, anything, other than sit and read, and wonder. But where would she wander too? The campus was cold, icy and made as a wind tunnel for gales that blew through the town. It was also far too full of inclines and elevation changes that made walking your heart out exhausting and more irritating than anything. She recalled the school she’d once attended. Clad in a black blouse, a scowl, jeans and boots that would stomp threw someone’s face, she’d roam the hallways. Finding herself in dead ends would only serve to turn her around and retrace her steps. Round the school, cross hallways and areas, foyers and doors. But that was then. In another city, at another time.Broken Tooth2 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Now she sought to desperately outdo the irritation that came with the restlessness. Sought to find a way away from the buzzing in her mind, the itch on the pads of her feet, the same itch that could be associated with wander lust. The rational part
Smile At The BirdieYour face.Smile At The Birdie20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I felt sad even looking at you. I
felt terrible. But, not even a
snippet of how bad you were
What has she done to you? What
have they done to you? You have
lost friends to a hopeless love.
You have lost lovers to a
I do not know you that well,
neither do I know all of them.
But I do know, you are a friend,
you will be a good one.
And I do not like seeing my
friends the way you look right
now. Sad, fed up, hopeless.
I cannot make all the bad stuff
disappear. I cannot give you
luck. But I will try and give you a
In the hope you might return one
Let me fill it up with a smile.
A PriceI had thought him a boy worth trusting. It was a one sided crush, with him affectionately calling me his friend. I would smile, nod, and say how great a friend he was back. And so, I grew to become sated with this way of things, holding a hope that if I was there enough for him, it could evolve into something.A Price1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But then she came. She had always been there, destroying one love to a game, another to a friend, and now she had at last come for the prize. The one I had spent protecting with my emotions the entire time.
I could be sick at what I had to do for him. He wanted more than her love, and heart, and would use me as a friend to help him. And so I did. I did it with a twisted heart, seeing that he would never know my way of feelings, and that even if he did it wouldn’t mean much, considering my subdued nature towards these matters. He wanted her, and he deserved what he wanted. And I would do anything to keep him happy.
It comes at the price of my jo
100 Writing Prompts Challenge- BreadGregory Marion well and truly hated the Christmas season. Not because he was a Grinch, or some greedy Scrooge who could not be bothered to part with a few coins and a smile to help his fellow man. Nor was it because of the fact that his Jewish faith and Chanukah celebrations got absorbed in the over-commercialized glow of the American Christian Christmas. Nor was it the cold and snow- and the multitude of playful, prankster children often brought about because of said snow and no school- that made him loathe it.100 Writing Prompts Challenge- Bread9 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
No, the reason he hated the Christmas season was the absolute hypocrisy it brought out in all his fellow men. The sudden influx of 'peace on earth, good will to all men' messages now assaulting the populace awakened otherwise impotent and barely-existent reflexes of guilt in their hearts. Many seemed to realize only during the Christmas season just how fortunate they were, and took only this time of year to suddenly become altruistic. Ironically, at the same time as the
Walking With These Wishes“How are you?”Walking With These Wishes1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was you who asked me that
question, weeks ago. Back when
you still cared to ask me.
No, I am not saying you are
heartless. You might still care,
you just do not ask anymore.
If you were heartless, I would
not be so hurt. I would realise
there was something wrong with
you, not me. If you were
heartless. No, if we were
heartless, I could let you go.
But now, I just cannot stop
staring at you. Just knowing
where you are is not enough.
My eyes keep wandering back to
My mind is strolling around for
ways to connect with yours.
My heart is jogging to a
desperate beat, a hopeless wish
to beat with yours.
But when your cold eyes meet
my wandering glance, my heart
stops jogging. It stops beating.
Then, it runs. It is running,
sprinting to a beat so fast, so
harsh, so painful that I have to
Because I know that no matter
how hard I try, I will never catch
up to you. I will never run on the
same beat or stroll down the
same path. We are just too
Voice of the Chasm IIVoice of the Chasm IIVoice of the Chasm II1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
King Tenger, ruler and protector of the people of the Chasm, stood before his kind in the very centre of the gaping hole that marked their land. Under his feet late a circular pedestal attached to a bridge that led to the inner wall of the Chasm. The idea was that anybody could stand there and speak his or her mind to the entirety of the People of the Voice, however, in practice, only the King or Queen would use it to rally or inform the kingdom.
Tenger needed no introduction, and by the time he had walked the length of the white bridge, he had already gathered an audience ready to hear his message. He raised his arms high, signifying that he was to begin immediately. ¨People of the Chasm! Rest assured there is no need for alarm!¨ He felt the mood of his people change, their faces brightening. More often than not, the king would use the pedestal for matters of severity rather than give them good news. Once the men and women had settled down, he continued
Color BlindHe stares out the window, past the parking lot, past the building, and past the people walking by, he stares at the tarmac and the giant jet planes. He’s holding a mop in his left hand, and a filthy rag in his right. His blue uniform is disheveled from a full morning of work, and his black boots have come untied. His hazel hair is a mess and there is dirt on his hands. But he doesn’t notice any of these things. He just stares out the window with his green and watches as the jets take off and land again. He imagines himself inside the metallic jets, taking off perfectly, and landing just as elegantly onto the black tarmac. He imagines everyone congratulating him on his perfect flying skills, and his wonderful accuracy. He thinks the pilots have the most amazing jobs. He sighs, a deep, longing sigh, and heads back to work. He grabs the yellow mop bucket, and drags it back to his cart. On the black cart, there are tons of cleaning supplies like rags, soap, sponges, and a broomColor Blind2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This