Lib. Ar.She was a revolutionary in her head, the way she wrapped herself in the flag and sang herself to sleep with freedom songs and chain gang chants. The way she wore her hair, unkept and messy and slanted slightly to the right due to the many times she fell asleep on her arm after reading Das Kommunistische Manifest until the early hours of the morning. I never questioned why she always ended on the same page, or why we had to search through dozens of used book stores in order to find an old hardcover copy of the book that was peeling with dry-rot and plagued with dog-eared corners.Lib. Ar.16 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She told me her grandfather was a political prisoner, and she inherited his rucksack and his circular glasses--the ones that he used to read his speech the day he was shot by the police and thrown in jail for treason.
"But the Man diluted my spirit, leaving me here having to fight for the rights my granddad sacrificed his life for. They never did free him," she always told the newest per
The Pumpkin SentinelsI sit on the concrete steps on the front porch and admire this November night. At my left and right are a few jack o' lanterns, their motionless grotesque faces staring into the street. It's the day after Halloween and my porch is the only one with jack o' lanterns still lit. They give off a faint pumpkin smell, likely a result of being singed constantly by the candles within their hollow corpses. There are no sounds, aside from the occasional faint rusting of leaves and the sizzle and pop of the moths that, every now and again, fly into the candles through the eyes and mouths of the lanterns and burn to death. The flickering, glowing faces give some security, as I'm not fond of what lurks in the night, and they look like plump little orange guardians, warding evil from my doorstep. A crackling of leaves, like irregular footsteps stirs me out of my daze. I see a shadowy figure, upwards of 4 feet tall walking down my street, giving a wide berth to my porch, much wider than any otThe Pumpkin Sentinels22 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Waiting in Chinatown (a very short story)I’m sitting in a restaurant on the corner of two streets in Chinatown. I’m waiting for someone. She was supposed to meet me at 1:00 for lunch. That was half an hour ago. I’m starting to lose hope.Waiting in Chinatown (a very short story)14 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I’m sipping on some green tea. It’s okay, although I've never been much of a tea drinker. The waitress walks over to me. Her English isn't very good, but I can make out that she’s losing patience with me. It’s understandable; I've been sitting here alone for half an hour and I haven’t ordered anything except tea. I order another cup, simply as a stalling tactic.
I watch people walk by. Not as many of them are Chinese as you’d think. Chinatown in London is different from others I've been to. The Chinatown here is almost all restaurants and shops; very few Chinese people actually live here. They’re spread out all across London. There are almost as many whites, blacks, and Asians here as there are Chinese people. I like it though; it ma
ContradictionMaybe I don’t understand the world,Contradiction1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
Maybe I understand too much.
I could be so genius I look past,
I could be so clueless I never saw.
Either way, it doesn’t make sense.
Why love isn’t returned,
Why we go crazy,
Why choices suddenly change,
Why things go backwards.
People hate, get angry.
Then, someone leaves…
And they fall in love.
I don’t understand it.
Going to depths,
To bring someone back,
Who is already gone.
Why do we try?
You use selfless actions,
In selfish attempts.
It only contradicts yourself.
It’s the creator of these problems.
The Unhappy MermaidThe Unhappy MermaidThe Unhappy Mermaid2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Off the coast of the Hawaiian islands a pod of merfolk lived under the forever moving currents of the ocean. They swam in the reefs under the light of the full moon and dove out to the deep waters by day. Their life was peaceful and calm. One mermaid was not happy with playing with dolphins and collecting sea shells. She wanted to fall in love.
The mermaids name was Kaimana , which means diamond and that is exactly what Kaimana thought she was. No one was as good as her. She was the fastest swimmer and had the most beautiful hair. Her tail was a deep magenta color, different from the common greens and blues. Kaimana thought very high of herself but that did not make her completely unloving. She was kind when expected but mean whenever anyone questioned her choices. Pride was one of the mermaids flaws, but not the worst. No, the worst flaw was Kaimana’s inability to be happy.
One cool night, when the moon was but a sliver, the merfolk surfaced above one
Meaning of LifeWe live to learn.Meaning of Life1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
Once we learn we take our jobs.
These jobs are seen as out “place” in life.
But all those jobs do,
Is make impact
For the next generation.
It’s all a loop,
That can’t be why
We individually live.
In science we’re taught,
Some animals die
So that must be it.
But, living to create more,
That will do the same,
Just to die?
Well, then no.
That can’t be right either.
There’s more, I’m sure.
But if those ideas,
Came to nothing,
Then tell me.
What is the unknown meaning?
Why do we live?
What’s the point?
Why is life a “chance”?
How did we even come to be,
And live for?
Poetic Stories: Death's PeaceIt all begins with the thoughtPoetic Stories: Death's Peace3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
I feel so dead being alive,
And imagining myself dead,
I’d be so much more alive
Many times, it’s that thought,
That means they can’t turn back themselves.
With that statement,
There’s no more fighting.
They want better, to find peace.
Maybe death is peace and all, but…
Those who fall under that statement,
They don’t quite realize,
The peacefulness in death.
The elderly - they die in peace.
The young… Do they ever truly die with a smile?
Life is not peace, it’s never peace.
Not for anyone.
Life is a harsh time full of happy moments.
Death is a tragic peace.
But there’s a reason that’s chronological.
You must live before you die.
You need to experience peace and the bad.
Not just experience, but understand.
That’s why the older people are when they die,
The more peaceful it’s found.
The reason that they can die with a smile.
Not because they’re running away from life,
Analyzing Dandelions: Villain and Hero- On the hero and villian -Analyzing Dandelions: Villain and Hero3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
One day we decided to take a drive out to find a puppy for my younger brother as a birthday present. We had looked up an old farm where a brand new litter of german shepherds had just been born a few weeks prior and figured that was a pretty good place to start. The farm was about an hour or so drive through the country- flat land alternating with golden rows of shimmering wheat and tall, green stalks of corn.
I glanced sideways, trying not to take my eyes off the road for too long. “What?”
“People are so strange.”
I chuckled out loud beside myself. “Yeah, I know. What makes you say that though?”
“Have you ever noticed how there’s always got to be a hero and a villain?”
“Uh.. wait what?”
“In every story or movie there’s always the good guy and the bad guy, you know?”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Well… uh… we alway
Analyzing Dandelions: Beginnings“Do you know why we are not immortal?”Analyzing Dandelions: Beginnings3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“Because one day you and I will both die?”
Irritated, she shoved me. “I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
She rolled her eyes then focused them on something in the distance, her feet swinging below the bench. I watched each of her exhales into the crisp, cold night air. “I think we die because if we didn’t we might not not know everything.”
I tried to figure it out in my head-honest I did!- but I couldn’t help but laugh. She hit me this time. “Ow! Really, I’m sorry… can you please explain that a little differently?”
With a sigh,she began.
“I think… we have to die. If people lived forever, we would eventually answer all of the questions. That’s all people are, you know. Just a bunch of… questions. ‘What’s for dinner? How’re you? What’s going on? Who’s that? When are we supposed to be there? What time is
toilet paper grows on treesyou have a headache.toilet paper grows on trees21 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
a kid throws a rock at you and misses.
a moose throws a rock at you and the kid dies.
this makes perfect sense except it doesn't and you die.
the moose mates off with your rotting carcasses.
My Old ThingI searched my closet for an old pair of shoes today. I found a thing in there. I can hardly remember it, but it feels good to hold. I unwrap its newspaper clothing and brush some of the old dust off. It's still shiny underneath the grime.My Old Thing2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I am flooded with good memories about this old thing, and I decide to go and wash it off. I rediscover how much this thing meant to me, and how shiny it really is. I decide to put it back on the wall. I throw away the other thing and put my old thing back where it belongs. The newer thing was worthless, not nearly as good as I forgot my old thing was.
I am proud of my old thing.
Meeting Myself To my left stands a pale brunette with an evil grin. To my right a lithe figure with blazing red hair and piercing eyes.Meeting Myself1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Hello!” The brunette chirps bouncing slightly on her heels.
“Hey…” The red head says not looking at me.
“So uhh, you guys are both..?”
“You, yes.” The red head says dully watching the brunette’s blue eyes widen with half a smile.
“Wait you two are me?!”
“Mhm.” I peek down at her. “God I can’t even remember being so small.” I glower at the red head. “And I take I’ll never get any taller either…”
“Life’s a bitch.” She says with that raised brow and amused smirk I know so well.
“So how old are you two then?” The brunette askes eyes narrowed, obviously about to guess. I quickly jump in before she can guess something ridiculous like 17- “21.”
ChoiceChoiceChoice2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
It’s a Tuesday afternoon on the second week of my last summer vacation.
I’m in my room alone, re-reading a secret letter that I've had for about a week, unable to come up with a way of telling my parents about it. It’s my acceptance to Galt University at Hamilton, New York and my ticket out of here. The only problem is I don't think my parents will approve.
I want to go because I live in a town called Ventura, Alabama, which is not a bad place to grow up in if you don’t mind it being dirt broke. I’ve been to every place and seen everything this town has to offer, from the one drug dealer at the deli corner to the junk-yard where I steal a car part or two every now and then. I've never so much as stepped a foot out the county. In my dad’s judgment, there's never any good reason to go out of town, but I think that’s his excuse for us barely having the money to go anywhere. With this letter, I final
Despise I hate you. I hate you all. All you ever do is oppress me, choke the life out of me, squash me under your thumbs. All that gave you happiness is draining the joy of my soul and stabbing your insults at this scarred, trodden body. But One day you will see, without me you all could not survive, could not stand against the waves and hurricanes that come your way. My strong trunk is what your strangling vines cling to, the only way your weak tendrils attain nourishment. I hope I live long enough to see you all suffer, to watch you pay for what you did to me. Joyous to me is the thought of your mangled faces screaming in terror, burning with disease and death. How blissful to watch you all reach out to me and realize that there is no one reaching back. I need none of your pious souls at my side, for the mighty oak stands alone and my hate for you is what fuels my strength.Despise2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Evelyn's Chronicles ~ Chapter One ~ The ForestIt was the familiar sound of wind and rain bashing against Evelyn's single window that awoke her from her deep slumber. She let a deep sigh fly out of her chapped lips, she lifted herself from her old, wooden bed that her and her little sister slept in, she was in her muddy, ripped and ruined clothing that she usually wore, twenty-four seven. She was a poor child, part of the Arkenham family. When you trace their family back, they were once a wealthy, well known family, but the selfish and vulgar actions of her great, great grandparents caused a despair, many consequences of their inconsiderate exertions sent them into bankruptsy, many people still mock the family, however Evelyn adapted to this, she developed a thick skin, as to bounce of the snyde comments that were thrown at her through lips of jealous people, once victims of the old family, that were now left in tatters, due to their own egocentric deeds. Evelyn sighed once more, she walked to her window, her bare feet cold againstEvelyn's Chronicles ~ Chapter One ~ The Forest12 minutes ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Variation Force: Revolver Chronicles C4 BonusChapter 4 Bonus: The Beginning WalkVariation Force: Revolver Chronicles C4 Bonus2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
As a voice said to me, I walked through the darkness on a platform....
It was of course...dark....and very quiet as well....
It was like an Awakening for a Keyblade user as usual....
>You have a fate to face from this point on.....we must make sure you are prepared.....
>Can you move?
[Use *Control Stick* to move around. Tilt part-way to tiptoe/walk, and tilt fully in a direction to run.]
I walked around as the voice said, and ran as well.
>The forms of movement will either be in the form of simple all-around movement, or movement during a high-speed rush. The former evolves more of the environment around you with more emphasis on combat, while the latter revolves around speeding down certain paths to get to certain destinations. Do not forget.
...okay....of course, I did understand what it meant....I already knew how to pick up on that stuff somehow due to feeling that I have experienced it before.
>Now, you should at least learn to
The RoadThe human spirit is a strange thing. It can be bent and shaped, but never broken. It can be twisted and manipulated, but never shattered. It can be razed and lit on fire, but it will never burn.The Road2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Throughout history, the human spirit has been tested. It has been pushed to the brink of utter and absolute destruction, but somehow, it always pushes back. It refuses to yield. The true question is not why, but how. How can people face the toughest of obstacles and come through stronger? It is, for some, a matter of faith. For others, it is hope. And it is these two things that make up the human spirit. Faith and hope, the ability to look past this painful moment and see a brighter future, whatever it may be. For some, it is a world without tears, while others envision a day when they no longer have to scrounge and fight for food or water. Whatever the hope is, whatever you put your faith in, it is something you believe in. It is something you strive for, and you know that through you, the wor
My Shiny New ThingI have a new thing. It glints, glimmers, and shines. I place it on my wall where all can observe it. It brings me joy every time I walk past and see my reflection in its flawless shine. My friends compliment me on it. I am proud of my shiny new thing.My Shiny New Thing2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I have a thing. It's not new, but I still like it, and I'm still proud of it. It has less of a shine to it, but I still like to observe it nonetheless. My friends still seem to enjoy it.
I have a thing. It's not new, and it doesn't shine. I hardly look at it, but when I do, I no longer see my reflection. My thing has rusted. I'm no longer proud of it. It has collected much dust over the years. No one seems to notice it as they walk past, and I hardly even remember it's there.
I got a new thing today! I wrapped the old one in newspaper and stuffed it in a closet, where chances are I'll never see it again. But I'm proud of my new thing.
Are you a boy or a girl?Mama stood frozen, staring down that the cherubic little redhead, his words still ringing in her ears. "Are you a boy or a girl?" The other redhead, the little one's brother, blushed and hastily touched the boy's shoulder. "Ao-chan, that was mean." Finally shaking off the shock of the child's keen perception, Mama gave a shaky laugh. "It's quite alright, Hayes-sama. May I answer him?" She smiled at the confused expression Ace shot her before he nodded and let go of his brother.Are you a boy or a girl?3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She knelt and took the little boy's hands in hers, running her thumbs in gentle circles over the backs of his hands. "I know it's a little confusing, since I have a boy's body and have to wear boy clothes to work, but I'm actually a girl. I'm not the only girl like this, either. Do you know what the word transgender means?" She waited for the boy to shake his head no before brushing back his bangs. In the periphery of her vision, she saw Ace's eyes widen slightly before he nodded his encouragement. "It means tha
Rantings from solitudes I think it was a fear of being left alone that kept him from opening doors, or at least keeping them open. Just as soon as it was, he'd catch wind, through memory and the ways it plasters a yellow smoke stain on what were once white drapes, and SLAM, the deafening sound more obtrusive than the entrance blocked off.Rantings from solitudes1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Gotta give him credit though, he keeps at those same doors, and from time to time, they stay a-gap long enough to get a foot in; to dip the toes in is not the best avenue of baptism, makes the damp skin shiver, whether beneath or above water. Wind, current, flow. Let's just say he could never fly a kite, not unless commanded. The era in which to float amongst the warblers has no particular mile marker under telephone wire; the string gets recycled anyways, and what for? Another f***ing kite.
Resolve I feel like I am never good enough. Never good enough for my family, never good enough for school, never good enough at my job, never good enough for anyone else. I feel their ever present watchful eyes, waiting for me to trip, to falter, and when I don't, they find a reason to drag me down again. What have I done to deserve this? Why does everyone constantly tear down the fragile structures of self-esteem that I’ve built? Am I too ugly? Too weak? Too foolish? I cannot know. Where am I to be accepted in this world? Am I destined to be as sub-par as everyone suggests? There is no one here I trust anymore, no one here I can look to for inspiration or motivation. No one appreciates me for me. They all have an ideal of who and what they want me to be. Through all this I keep my façade. It is the one thing I will never let them see: that what they do affects me. It claws and rips at my mind and always, always leaves me unsure and hesitant. But my resolve never falResolve2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This