Artemis The roar of the engine stirred the neighborhood from its quiet night. A few curtains rose and some dogs barked as a loud motorbike came to a stop at the corner of the street under a yellow streetlamp. Thick men’s leather boots padded for small feet played their deep song on the concrete. A hoodie hid under a large biker jacket. The hood covered a petite, exotic face.Artemis5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Artemis strolled down the street, more curtains rose and a few curious stares followed her as she continued her way, glancing briefly between the numbers on the scattered mailboxes, quietly counting them out loud.
"35, 36, 37… Ah, there we go, 38."
A small smile crossed her lip as she eyed the house she came to. The place was dark, unlike the rest of the houses around. It looked dead, dark and rather old. She examined the windows and both sides of the house for an entry point. Nothing to climb, and the humidity made sure no one would leave a window
Missing PersonsI live in a world of fear.Missing Persons1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I am not the only one who is afraid; no, every person here fears the night, if not for themselves then for someone they love. Mothers fear for their children, husbands for their wives, children for their sisters and brothers. No one fears for their friends; no one has friends anymore. No one dares.
It wasn’t always this way. I remember days before the fear, before the world was so paralyzed with its own terror that it forgot how to live. I remember walking through a park after sunset just for the pleasure of it. I remember being late for an appointment without anyone beginning to plan my Memorial. I remember life before people began to disappear.
It started slowly, coming on so gradually that it’s hard to say when it became normal for people to vanish on their way to the grocery store, or while walking the dog. Suddenly it was completely ordinary to see houses fall derelict, their owners mysteriously vanished somewhere beyond our reach.
The Myth of the SuccubusThe Myth of the SuccubusThe Myth of the Succubus4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Yuki-Onna: a subspecies of succubus, they are native to Japan and are most active during the colder seasons. They most commonly approach their victims during snowy weather and feed on their energy through acts of passion, leaving them frozen husks should they decide to claim everything they are, body and soul. They are considered in-tune with the nature around them and possess cryokinetic abilities in addition to their seduction and illusory magic native to all succubi.
Blowfish Poison Kiss: “Death that is the excess of life.” The user kisses the victim, usually on the lips, and places a spell on them in the process. A human’s life energy, or ki, is regulated through specific points on the body, and this kiss causes those points to work at their maximum efficiency. As a result, the victim’s body produces a gross excess of life energy, expanding their body like a balloon and rendering them immobi
Imaginary PlainsThey caged her.Imaginary Plains2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She saw fields.
RomanticizingShe approached him as he sat on the bed. Her knee pushed into the plush foam, sagged due to the abuse of over use. Her digits entwined as her elbows rested on his shoulders. The pressure sunk him into the doughy mattress.Romanticizing4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Romanticizing are we?”
His lips were parted; his eyes stared blankly at the cold wall. It was a cold blank wall, no paint ever applied to peel away, no picture ever hung to be taken off. It took a moment for his lips to connect, for him to clear his throat and mind, and reply.
“Not really… just wondering about the possibilities of where we could be…”
Her arms slid forward as her hands pressed gently into his chest, feeling each heave, each tingle that his body had to offer. However there wasn’t much to offer. He was calm, composed; his breaths left her hands to satisfy themselves with the bare minimum. But bare minimum was what they had always had.
“Isn’t that what we call romanticizing?” She chuckled as n
Chikara ZanpakutoChikara Zanpakuto4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Zanpakuto: Chikara (Power, Strength)
Shikai: “Ute, Chikara!” (“Strike, Chikara!”)
Bankai: “Bankai! Konjiki Chikara!” (Golden Chikara! [Golden Power])
Shikai Form: A great, golden dragon emerges out of the blade and it can throw melted gold or gold fragments (Similar to Hitsugaia Toushiju)
Bankai Form: The Bankai form is a big, golden dragon completely off the blade that can answer to the user's call or even thoughs.
Blade: Short-Blade sword (Kodachi)
Guard: Dragon Wings gathred pointing to the back
Saya: Black with a golden ending below and above it ends up to a golden dragon that seems to be guarding the seath of the sword
Handle: Black, yellow and gold
*Rainbow Web*Rainbow mist, opalescent web, embellishment completed.*Rainbow Web*5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
transienceShe imagines ephemerality in sugar-spun daydreams, her vision filled with stars.transience10 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One day, she tells herself, she will no longer be here. She will no longer be found scrubbing the floors on stiff knees and chapped hands. She will not have to bow to the abusive words of a female barely three years her elder, nor listen to the querulous demands of five-year-old tyrants who were raised too spoiled for their own good.
Her back will no longer ache like an old woman's, though she is barely thirty. Her mouth will never have to force a smile when all she wants is to weep her heart out in the pressing silence of her tiny bedroom. Her dignity will not be crushed ever again under booted Chanel heels and Armani loafers that are worn by those too privileged to thank her for the homemade breakfasts she serves every morning.
The dream is abruptly shattered by reality as she hears the distant sound of her employer swearing at her to come here this instant, you lazy cow, or I'll deduct your wages imm
.Here I lay in the junkyard of many parts. The gray-orange clouds lay low as they drag on in the thick and humid atmosphere. It's been years since I've been here. The rain fell quietly as it hit the rusted and torn metal on my face from my last attempt to shut myself down. I wanna turn myself off.... I wanna rip my battery out. If anyone is even alive anymore... Just take it out. Memories pan by across my screen. My human friends... We were happy.. We talked. We shared many laughs. We grew up together. Learned. Lived together. We were there for each other. I pulled out the necklace that had a rusting golden key with a diamond in the middle. I remember it was a prized possession of one of my friends. They never took it off. My other friend gave me his piece of jade that was given to him... Why can't I die like them. Living forever was not my intention. I don't want to live forever. Someone break me. SMASH ME, ANYTHING!! JUST TAKE ME OUT OF MY MISERY!! It's been like this for 220 years. O.5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Touch GlovesNo biting, no eye-gouging, no hair-pulling.Touch Gloves23 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The MarketEach morning the vendors arrive before dawn. As they set up their kiosks they hear the songbirds rub the sleep out of their eyes and start to sing groggily. As the sun rises over the horizon of the tiny African village, the pinks and purples that stain the sky lightly kiss the pyramids of fruits set up on squalid cardboard boxes. Mothers in long dresses and wrapped heads fill hand-woven wicker baskets with red peppers and green chiles, damp with morning dew. The forenoon fog, not yet burned away by the sleepy sun, twists and furls over saccharine apples and astringent grapefruits. As customers first arrive, those vendors unprepared engage in a furious boondoggle; some sew small swatches of perfunctory fabric together, or hastily place bruised fruits under tables, to make their products appear more lucrative.The Market1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Umbrellas striped with vivacious colors are set up, one by one, to shade the delicate products being sold. Behind the men and women that run the market, entire walls of jars, baske
Red SkyRed Sky1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When I woke up this morning, I woke believing the world would spin as it always has. The dawn rose clear and perfect, the wind filled our sails, and my heart swelled in my chest. The thought that has kept me going these past months propelled me to the front of the decks. I’ll see my girls again, beautiful Adelaide with her wild dark curls, and our little Buttercup. Nothing would keep me from them anymore, no more stops to port, no worrisome dark patches of water. We’ve even still got supplies to spare.
But that was before the sky began to roil into something monstrous. It lit up red, red as dead man’s blood, and my heart sank. So close to home. The Captain’s hands shake on the wheel. I can see it in every man’s eye. The wind has died. We’re stranded out here, but it’s a falsehood. Soon the decks will wash over with water, Neptune himself couldn’t send a more furious storm as what we’ll be having, once that dark cloud on the horizon
Wedding photo for mumAmy and Rory sat in their little yard on a swing Rory had built, with little Anthony between them. The day was sleepy. Quiet. Amy's flaming hair was just starting to get small bits of grey, little wrinkles around her eyes just starting to form. Rory, being by far the easier to worry, had been turned fairly grey already. Anthony's antics had aged him in a hurry.Wedding photo for mum1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Suddenly Amy started as a light, then a tube of azure energy materialized from thin air. She grabbed Rory's arm, and gasped, but after a moment, she calmed down.
"River, dear, it's so good to see you! How are you doing dear?" Amy speaks quickly and happily, eager for news from the pretty blond.
"OK, Amy. Let River catch a breath. Remember how the Doctor described those things." Rory spoke up. His smile betrayed his excitement, however, as River waited for an opening to speak.
"Amy, Rory, I brought you something. It's a photo for you to keep. I
The MountainMy Lady now sleeps, spent after torrid affairs of the adoring sky. Evidence of their love pools around her swelling form, now cool and placid from the last chilling touches of night. Only hazy clouds remain as evidence of what transpired. Subtly they caress her curves and supple mounds spilling upon her a mist to hide the wonders of her slopes from voyeuristic eyes. But let curiosity not be dismayed; rays of pale light peek slyly through the blanket of clouds to pain her lavender precipice in pastels. And as she slumbers the world begins to stir.The Mountain2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
All is fresh and crisp in the dampness of her bed. Even as her breath eases with the chill of snow caps her children find comfort in it's scent of pine and winter. Scarcely strewn about the marsh and unkempt bedding they find shelter among the limbs of their earthen cousins. And still further below, frost bitten but ever resilient, a carpet of green encircles the lake of joyfully shed tears.
It is only this water which dares attempt to p
More Than FoodSometimes I cut food from my diet so that I can consume words and images. They are so much more filling than food. When I only want to eat from boredom I will try to create words of my own that dance on the paper like falling leaves and I attempt to put the images in my mind onto a piece of snow colored paper to show the word my thoughts. That usually satisfies me, taking away the urge to consume material things to fill the time. When I am starving, though, dying for sustenance, I will look to the works of others and drink them in like a humming bird drinks from the fairest flower or devour them in the way the black bears only choose the sweetest raspberries. This fills my stomach, keeping the beast from growling and keeping me alive for another day. The laws of my human body say that I cannot go on like this for long, but the art is so satisfying to my soul that I no longer care for the rules and restrictions of my flesh. I ignore the way my ribs protrude now, since I've stopped puttiMore Than Food2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This