Not yet.Not yet.2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The clocks were silent, and the day was almost over. Not quite, however. Not yet.
There was a faint noise of the hooves on the ground, the sky was dark and the pegasi had scheduled rain for the evening. Everypony was trotting back home from their jobs, schools, and their daily adventures. Not everyone though. Not yet.
Somewhere in the crowd, a light purple cloaked figure hastily moved through the bystanders, mumbling "excuse me" or "sorry" however faintly spoken, under breath in hushed tones. The cloaked figure made their way to the front of the crowd, trotting quickly toward the outskirts of town. They fell a couple of times, a couple more after that.
In the horizon, an old painted circus tent, with those classic red and white stripes and that musty smell, pleasantly nostalgic like an old memory. The pony in front of the entrance was the Ring Master. He waved at the cloaked figure as they approach. Everypony is in the tent before the rain starts to pour. Well, not everypony, only the
Dead HeartsTell me everything that happened.Dead Hearts3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Tell me everything you saw.
I stand upstairs, listening to my grandma scream at the top of her lungs to my sisters, cursing and ignoring their crying. I feel my eyes well with tears, sliding silently down my cheeks as I tremble from cold and fear. I throw my IPod onto the bed roughly, ignoring the panicked texts coming from Thalia. I walk toward the window, my hands trembling as I slowly unlatch it, and then I slowly open it. I push myself up onto the windowsill, looking down at the ground. It has to be about twenty feet. I closed my eyes, smiling bitterly as I think of all the goodbyes I had sent everyone. At least I got to say goodbye.
I open my eyes, moving to fall forward, when I see them. I freeze, and my eyes widen in horror and shock.
"They had lights inside their eyes.
They had lights inside their eyes."
Glowing silver, they stand on the ground as they look up at me. There are about four of them, one being carried by the other. On
The Constellation"Father, father, why have you forsaken me?"The Constellation3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The young boy walked towards him, who slowly backed off in the long, red-carpeted hallway in his own wooden mansion.
"What are you talking about, son?", he asked.
"Why did you throw me into the pit?", the boy asked, his plain white eyes stand out amidst his dark, charred fur, muzzle and tail gone. He growls softly.
"W-what pit??" He backed up more, until no more he can. His tail, squeezed between him and the cold, wooden door behind him, froze in fear. His once fluffy and cared-for ears are now folded backwards and messy. Right now, in front of him, is the visage of his long dead pup. He sent Lazarus, his youngest son, on a journey overseas. Lazarus was a conundrum. He barely spends time among books, and instead communes with nature, and yet, he was chosen for a full scholarship to Leopoldo, a small, but bustling city-state well known in the region.
"You broke me" A hiss is heard from what used to be Lazarus' muzzle, as the entity crept up sl
Higher Than A Rainbow Flag [Short Story / 2015]Starring THADDEUS HARDY,Higher Than A Rainbow Flag [Short Story / 2015]3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
and MILDRED LOCKHART
[10:34 PM, Thursday, January 22nd, 2015 - 4:05 PM, Friday, January 23, 2015]
It's hard to live in a world where hate and violence still wreaks out, especially on those who are not, what they say, normal. Everyday you watch the news about crimes that can present a murderer or thief who happens to be in a different race. Some folks are driven emotionally on subjects like this. Even news online that talk about poor Muslims who are accused of committing terrorism; due to some fanatic Muslims causing all this, it just gives a bad name to those who don't have a mind on killing. All the same thing happening for the past years, it's like there is no end to it at all.
That even includes those that are different on sexuality, like homosexual people. That has been all over the place, even where I live. Folks are very judgment on folks who are not straight; because of that, even those who are not are extremely harsh on the others. Th
A new life ProlugeSonic and shadow were running through the forest. The two’s rivalry had become more aggressive with insults and fights breaking out. They were on the break of becoming Enemies. Shadow stopped spotting certain claw marks on the trees. She recognized them. Sonic had passed them and turned around and looked at Shadow. “Why did you stop you give up?” The blue blur sneered. “No, That.” Shadow replied pointing at the trees. “So a bear was here.” Sonic said walking up to Shadow. “Like a bear would have claws sharp enough and strong enough to cut that deep into a tree.” She stated. Sonic rolled his eyes. “Mhm right…” Sonic said and walked past the tree. Shadow growled and followed him. “If we’re going this way we have to stick together.’ She said and walked next to sonic keeping her ears perked for any signs of danger. Little did she know, they were being watched. Shadow stopped and looked around startedA new life Proluge3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Littlest Knelf Traveling across the flat world that wanderers proceed to meander aimlessly, determinedly wanting to seek satisfaction to quench an unending thirst, nothing will be filled. A lone creature strode amid the green grasslands. The boundless emerald savannah stretching across a barren, cold world, almost like covering the burns from an unfortunate event, it was the most beautiful moorland that one could witness.The Littlest Knelf3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This individual was a knelf: a soul born of flesh and fashioned by unbridled mirth. This jollity coming from the atmospheres of societies from far-off municipalities, something long since gone; the fading laughter echoing in the ears of the knelves, seemingly like a distant memory.
The pursuit of meaning was pointless. Still, this brave knelf had journeyed through the Four Valleys of Despondency, and had taken a gamble w
Seer of the Black LakeFrom the sphere of yellow torchlight, the incessant flow of the stream was visible; its echoes cascading over eroded stone, which narrowed and amplified the trickling into a torrent of sound, inundating any weaker existence by thus sinking it into the darkness. Bobbing over the surface of this sound, the echoed sloshing of boots thrown forward by a determined stride emphasized the singular presence of a man. He appeared stretched into thinness, a smaller man, or child, pulled into the figure of a much larger person. Yet the frailty of his rod-thin limbs did not inhibit the man as he strode against the meager current, numbly climbing the stone passage to delve further into the underground cave. The endless chase of water leaving the cave, as he entered.Seer of the Black Lake3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The stalagmites and stalactites wavered in and out of the darkness, looming suddenly from obscurity, before receding as each was passed with utter indifference to their threatening, human resemblance. Fear should
MotherMother:Mother3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Mother, must we stay in this place forever? It is terribly dark:”
“No, child. Do you wish to see what is about you?”
“Please mother, for the dark is ever so cold.”
From the fingertips of the goddess came a small flame, the size of a candle. It illuminated the face of a beautiful woman, and a small boy clinging close to her legs. The small boy looked up at the brilliant flame in awe, for he was seeing light for the very first time.
“Child, this is light, and this is also life. It will be your guide through the darkness.”
“But mother, the fire looks so frail and weak compared to the dark around us.”
The goddess smiled “This is true little one.” The goddess knelt down and brought the flame just in front of the child. “Life is but a fleeting flame, and there is nothing we can do to halt its progress. Just like a flame, it burns brilliantly in the beginning,” the light sparkled brilliantly in her ha
The Other Side of the DoorShe lived in a rich family, never fit into the typical rich kid standards. In fact she wore a fake smile everyday in school to make it seem like she was ok, she was put together. Inside she was fighting a battle she couldn't win, to at least find an escape, to find someone who would just sit down and listen for once. At home she couldn't go anywhere other than her house. The house mocked her with all the windows that show what's going on outside the walls, that separate the outside world from her own house, watching as the world goes on without her. The day comes where she breaks free from the rules, as the looks out the door and turns the nob that she's been dreaming of doing. She opens the door to the life she's always dreamed of. Sometimes you just have to take that step of faith to open the door to a new life. She never regrets or looks back, she keeps looking forward because life is too short to just watch as everything around you passes through closed doors.The Other Side of the Door3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Greedy MonkeyThe Greedy MonkeyThe Greedy Monkey3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
By Vick Thomas
One day in the rainforest, a monkey was having a painfully difficult time trying to find a banana to eat. He climbed up and around all the trees in search of a piece of that delicious yellow sweetness, but there was none to be found. It had been a tough morning of swinging and searching that left him more hungry than he was in the first place. His tummy groaned with pain, and he started to think of another way he could get a banana. Steal one? Nah. That would be mean on his friend. Keep looking? Nope. Not anymore. He was too hungry for that.
With an angrily groaning tummy, he climbed up the tree to sit and think of a solution. As he sat, one of his friends walked past with a mouth-watering banana in hand. The monkey stared, jealous of his friend. Where did he get that banana? He was sure there were none to be found. His friend hadn't opened it yet, so the monkey considered it as good as his.
The monkey thought deeply. His hungry tummy made him cunning a
Sing a Song of NightEarly spring, Year 760 of the New AgeSing a Song of Night3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Blackwood, Widow’s Hollow, The Family den
Featuring: Skjalddas, mentions pregnant Deyanira and Skoll
Aldda just couldn’t get comfortable around her mother’s bulk. Nira’s swelling size was alarmingly different from her usual thin self. Although Skoll’s rack had dropped and provided more room, Skjalddas still felt cramped in the space. Not in the last few weeks of her pregnancy, her mother was beginning to snore on rare occasions. The few times she and Skoll both did it, there was no hope of sleep for Aldda.
At first, the grullo filly was excited to have a sibling alongside her, so she could have a playmate and a friend like her parents promised. But despite the size of their home, Skjalddas was skeptical to the den being enough room for all four of them.
Aldda felt her sibling shift in her mother, and stood with a
The Gold(en) CityThe Gold(en) CityThe Gold(en) City2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
I wander through these gold streets, on the illustrious pavements of riches, every complicated pattern on the panels of buildings gleaming ever so brightly. I see platinum shards laying on the ground, a precious metal that is ever so desired. There are diamonds on the door of that house, they’re shining prisms. They hurt my eyes. Just like the reflections of light from the gold panels of these grandiose buildings. There are so many jewels and so many precious metals around here. Everything illuminates with sheer glow and smells of riches.
What is this place, anyway? Why is it that one cannot see anything that is not gleaming with greed? Why are the walls riddled with gold panels and ruby reliefs? Why is it that desired money lays on the ground in abundance and no one ever picks it up?
I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell you what place this is. It’s because this is The Gold City. Everyone here is rich. Filthy r
Excerpt from an old journalI think being alone was what I was essentially scared of, that ultimate feeling of desolateness and emptiness, and lack of "being" in another person's eyes. I had spent the years wandering alone across existence's path, had looked both life and death in the eye and never once shuddered or been consumed with joy at new beings swaddled up close to a mother's bosom or the ecstatic leap of a joyous lamb. Death to me was freedom to be gone from everything- it was only without mind, body or soul that you lacked humanity and ceased to exist. And yet, I longed to be held by something, other than a never ending horizon and a burning rat race of a sun.Excerpt from an old journal3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I was what some would call callous and cold, a Snow Queen, when really it was nothing more than living in a void which was neither past, present or future. I did not look forwards or backwards or live in the moment- just the chasms of my headspace which held me prisoner when I most wanted escape, or propelled me into exotic realms of fantasy and s
Eye of the Beholder, Part 17"Aren't you afraid?" said Inga, after hearing my story.Eye of the Beholder, Part 171 day ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of putting so much faith and trust in someone; afraid of becoming dependent on them; afraid that they might let you down?"
"It's not about dependency," I told her. "That's the game that everybody else is playing, in case you hadn't noticed. No, this is about freedom."
"First, tell me what freedom means to you."
"I would say that it means self-sufficiency, both material and emotional. It means not having to rely on anyone for anything; not having to work for money; not having to worry about the future, but also not looking to others to provide that security, either. It means not needing the love and admiration of others, or feeling compelled to conform to some fleeting social standard in order to gain acceptance and approval. Freedom? It basically means having the strength to not give a fuck about anyone else."
"Yeah, but that could also be interpreted as psychopathy. Besides, aren't you really
UntitledTimofey turned the sealed envelope over in his hands, staring down at it. His grandparents hadn’t wanted much or anything to do with his mother after she’d followed her fiancée to Russia. Now they’d sent a note to him asking to meet him. Worse, they’d already included a plane ticket- two of them.Untitled3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“What’s that?” Arina was looking at him curiously and then down at the tickets.
“Plane tickets, but I don’t know why mom’s parents decided now was a good time to meet their only grandson.” He gave a strained smile, dropping his gaze down to the envelope again. “Someone clearly forgot to mention that I’m a vampire. I can’t do daylight.”
The arm his girlfriend slipped around his shoulders was only a little bit reassuring. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
Timofey grimaced, twisting around in the kitchen chair to look at her. “Neither one of us know much about America for one thing
read this in silenceIt was a moment of still; a moment of self-awareness and clarity he knew he would never forget. She stood before him, but the distance between them didn’t seem real. Naked souls shivered in realization of each other’s proximity and began to synchronize their intricate harmonies.read this in silence3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He saw her. Truly, piercingly, saw her.
“This,” she said simply, “is my everything.”
The Wanderer - Day 13The man wandered, not knowing where to go.The Wanderer - Day 133 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He walked for miles on end, through rain and shine, deserts and sprawling fields of rolling green bliss, looking for a home. He didn't know where he had to go, or even where he belonged, he just knew that he had to keep going.
He stumbled upon a vibrant forest of flowers that stretched into the sky. It was every colour of the rainbow and more. All sorts of fuzzy and beautiful creatures grazed in its plentiful meadows where to enormous petals parted. Light shone down gently, brushing against his skin as he strolled through. It was amazing. Everything felt so alive. He would have stayed, but he realized that he would have to craft everything he owned himself. His feeble, shaky hands simply wouldn't be up to scratch. So he moved on.
He wandered on, and climbed up a vast wall of stone. He struggled, but luckily he reached the top safe and sound. He stood on a plateau, amongst a series of crumbling towers. The wind cut them at exact angles, and whe
SolitudineLas estrellas. Astros que iluminan un cielo. Astros que siempre permanecen, viven incontables generaciones humanas. Las vemos. Parecen cercanas. ¿Pero hay mayor soledad que la de una estrella?Solitudine3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Desde la distancia su cercanía es casi patente; se tocan, rozan y bailan sobre un manto negro pintado de blanco y azul. Se les dedican canciones de amor, promesas imposibles de fidelidad eterna, intentos fracasados de recogerlas. Ojalá se pudieran enfrascar como si fueran pequeños faroles que mientras brillaran iluminaran el camino a recorrer…
La realidad es cruel. La distancia entre ellas es infinita y sólo en la muerte son reconocidas. Una muerte que no es muerte, una muerte que puede arrasar sistemas, una muerte de la que surge una nueva existencia. Ni si quiera ella cesa su martirio. Ni si quiera el fin acaba con el mal que las recome.
Bellas. Lejanas. ¿Hay mayor soledad que la de una estrella?
the 7 soulsthe scythe is in your hand, warm ebony slipping in the tight, sweaty grip of your palm. you can't help but feel the anxiety. it happens every time, and yet, you still can't seem to get over it. "why am i not used to it yet?" your scythe doesn't answer you, but you can imagine it singing out, "because seeing them makes you depressed and nauseas." you sigh, removing one hand at a time to wipe them on your clothes, shifting from one foot to another as you wait. you'll know when the time comes, but for now, you wait with your precious scythe in jittery pain, trying to ignore the way your chest aches. i have to do this, you think to yourself, resting your forehead on the cool metal of the blade. it's a must. but you so bitterly hate your task, and the reason why you do it. the people are okay, but the only thing that brings you even the slightest bit of joy to your empty being is your scythe, hand-crafted just for you. it's ironic, really, considering that it plathe 7 souls2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
NAMELESS Book Two (Part One) Book Two: The DelivererNAMELESS Book Two (Part One)3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
With the most precious and sought-after heart in her possession, the specter was overwhelmed by the decades of memories it withheld. She drowned in oceans of emotion. Fell in voids of thought. Was buried under mountains of knowledge her weak constitution could not support. Then Khadr, the Overseer of Fates, pulled her from the brink, and locked the precious heart in a box made from Destiny’s very seems.
The heart was presented to her for the second time.
The specter happily accepted the only part left of her friend, but reluctantly took the immortal Overseer’s orders. ‘Find the soul that could tear the threads of Destiny, and the virtuous abomination’s dying wish will be fulfilled.’ With that, the First Angel bestowed onto her the rarest of gifts. The gift of imm
slowo o snachA może tej nocy, bo przecież nie poprzedniej, a przyszłe są daleko, zdarzy się to co, choćbyś i milion rozdał pocałunków, przydarza się każdemu tylko raz, bo potem już nic się nie przydarza.slowo o snach3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Może dziś wieczór przyjdzie mi umrzeć, bo jednak coś boli i z uczuciami zmielonymi w papkę i wtartymi w ziemię po której chodziłem, mój ostatni oddech wyleci tak samo jak każdy poprzedni i rozproszy się tak jak żyłem, sam dla siebie.
I pierwsze co wyrządzę światu, a ostatnie sobie to przeklnę wszystko, przeklnę was za to jak żyliście i przeklnę siebie za to jak bardzo przyszło mi nie żyć dla was za życia, ten raz jeden - mojego.
I ze skórą zniszczoną od pyłu i ustami spękanymi z nerwów, wezmę przecież kiedyś ostatni łyk, ostatni raz przeczesz
The boring story: go ahead (3)Oh, you're here again. Really? After my ramblings about the taste of coffee you still wanna read about me? You are far more determent than I thought. Look, you seen pretty nice and patient to be reading this but I have to tell you, nothing interesting or meaningful will happen in this story. Ever. Just me telling you about the things I see and feel at certain points in time. If you wanna read that, go ahead.The boring story: go ahead (3)3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I'm standing at the bus stop waiting for my transportation. It's also raining. I like the rain. I don't like being wet, but it gives the surroundings a nice fresh felling. Wait, did I just say that the surroundings feel or that the surroundings give me a felling? Can the surroundings feel? I know they can feel in other stories. If I live somewhere not far from a character who's surroundings can feel, can my surroundings feel? You probably find these questions quite strange, since you have one constant story everyone follows. You probably don't even realize how lucky you are.
Cry me a river.I felt instinct touch me. The tears fell away, and I stood up wiping away the grief. I moved to the door and walked out of the house into the night. It was quiet, sounds reverberating, resonating. The harshness of the day had been bled dry, gone with the heat and the restless energy. The mind to the waking body, its like walking in dreamtime. The wind is a breath, made by the lungs of whispering insects, shifting leaves, the almost efferescent quality of other midnight denizens.Cry me a river.4 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm all alone.
Here is where I can think. The contrast between myself and I is a chasm. I am happier here than any laughing, fleeting moment. I can conjure up a hundred times I wanted to fade out of the daylight regime, and just today I thought about suicide more times than I thought about other peoples needs. Forget needs, I cant even bring myself to care about there wants. I dont care what you want.
I enter the fluroescent haven that is a 24 hour service station, leaving the man counter with a few words, a pi