Apocalypse Artist - A short story (WIP)I didn't know how to feel about the way the war ended. It felt sudden. Surreal. Sure, there were signs this might happen. Our economy failed almost overnight, it seemed. Chaos shortly followed that. When people didn't have the means to get by in our damaged society, violence became the new normal. What really did it were the raids. I never thought they would come to my city. When we saw the bombers overhead...Apocalypse Artist - A short story (WIP)20 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
Another stroke of white paint here... to highlight the bombshell...
I scratched my nose, smearing some of the paint on my face, and stepped back to look at my newest painting. The wall of the old warehouse now held a fresh mural depicting the war. Bombshells hovered just above the ground. People were running from the impending blast, though they wouldn't escape. Fear was captured in all of their faces in that terrible moment.
I peered over the three buckets of paint I had used for this mural. There wasn't much left, but I could use them again. I placed the lids back onto th
PeripeteiaTwas' the two strangers who beheld the masks of sheep and the coats of shepherds that threw her to the wolves. It was the men who's names were "Hezekiah" and "Zedekiah" that succeeded into blowing out a single flame of her only candle; leaving darkness to dominate the light.Peripeteia11 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was because of their ravens and their crows that led to insanity and retaliation, and it was because of their red and black cards which entitled her to trust them-to love them. For it was then that blood was shed and the cries of many were heard, some lucky and others not so.
Though it was because of she that was thrown into the wolves which led them to change their nature and silence their fangs from being bared-because of truth and because of sincere consideration. Through one single, pure, and innocent soul did those wolves bow down and repent their sins to a single flame. It was because of the eyes of someone who they were demanded to kill found forgiveness and life thr
hope is kind of hopelessYou really wouldn’t mind if the screechers came and killed you right now. If they tore you to pieces, ripping through the delicate flesh of your throat and infected you with the only other poison you could decipher as harmful, that would be just fine. The virus, along with the bitter cold despair you’ve felt and have been feeling for as long as you could remember. All your memories of the times before the disaster have faded out of existence, and for the longest time you felt hollow, like you weren’t full. Full of hope and love and comfort like the rest of the others. The feelings of grief, remorse and sorrow have been coming ever closer, day by day, to replacing the cracks where your forgiveness used to be and filling you to the brim with nothing but terror and fright. You have to live every day like this, and to you, it’s okay. You’ve been through worse and you’d be a fatuous coward to back out now.hope is kind of hopeless6 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
And to you, it’s all the same, these past f
Room at the Bottom of the UniverseThere is a room at the bottom of the universe. Ive seen it. Despite the location it’s a strangely familiar place. Just as real as this experience seems, but it takes a lot to get there. Although Im grateful, I have no intentions of returning. I’m just happy they decided to let me leave.Room at the Bottom of the Universe10 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Standing naked in a sandstorm. It was the surreal feeling that had come over me within seconds after the light. With a breath, I fell backwards against the blankets of sand. I wasn’t moving, but I was still falling. Drifting for a moment through the oceans of time, askew to the currents. I remember distinctly thinking I was stuck here…between this world …and the next.
Around me as far as the eye can see feet without blood and the overwhelming sound of a checkout scanner in a market of bananas. Fractal patterns made of the gears of man. The cogs of which are ranges, connected at the waist. Engineered with the sole function of turning endlessly. Although just fo
The ShoppeThe ShoppeThe Shoppe6 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
By: Mikaela Cordero ~ Word Count: 354 words
You know that store you see while you're strolling down the block? The one with tinted windows and a sign displaying it's open on Sunday nights, but not Tuesday afternoons? You never see people go inside, and never see anyone leave. Nobody knows what's inside and would rather it remained that way.
Until one day, your buddies dare you to venture inside. You accept, cautiously opening the door. As you take your first looks inside, it seems curious. Odd, but never does it seem ominous. In fact, it seems alluring. On the shelves, little trinkets and oddities come into view. A gag eyeball, a skull, with varying degrees of lifelessness. There's a figure behind you, the owner.
You inquire, "Excuse me sir, this seems like a pleasant shoppe. Why do people avoid it?"
The man clears his throat, "people avoid it for from the outside it seems dreary, to say the least."
"Why don't you let in some light?"
The man chuckles; a guffaw that doesn't s