RapunzelThe floor is covered with ribbons of broken hair snapped, dry, dirty hair. She watches it break and die every day; even when it groans from her scalp, she no longer cries for it. It's only hair.Rapunzel5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She sits in the corner, with another of her headaches, closing her unwashed eyes and praying for sleep.
When a man's voice calls to her from outside, she jumps.
No one speaks to her.
She is one hundred feet from the ground and no one can see her face.
Heart quickening - a newborn sparrow that must learn to fly or else succumb to a hungry mouth - she struggles with her locked bones to stand and run to the window. She only moves slowly, however desperate she is, her wasted muscles threatening to fold. Her fragile fingers with their grey, unfiled nails fight with the stone sill to gain purchase and she sways, a stricken willow planted in her own filth.
"Let down your hair," he says.
Why won't he leave her alone? Why won't he go from here?! But still she mechanically heaves her co
Beautiful Creature"If you do not run," says the Wolf, "I will kill you."Beautiful Creature5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He is where two walls meet. He is coming towards her.
Little Girl sits on the sofa and doesn't believe him, watches him as he creeps across the carpet towards her, with his dirty claws, his filthy eyelids, slowly, deliberately, until he is face to face with her
she is face to face with him,
His breath is so hot, and pregnant with the dead.
Little Girl stares, suspended, into his eyes; she is clean, stupid, and does not know the colour of danger. His gaze is painting her with amber: she may soon be glued to the fabric, frozen like a spiderling from the past, preserved, preserved as a virgin, and surely she will go to heaven.
"You have not run," observes the Wolf.
Little Girl shakes her head. Her freckles are dot-to-dotting with the thick whiskers of his porcupine face. Already they are dancing.
The Wolf lays his great head in her smart lap. He rests before the hunt, and she reeks of nerves.
With a breath, L
Lonely ChildrenThey were gone. He was alone.Lonely Children5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He had loved her obsessively since she first began to talk to him, using strange, soft sounds that he could not comprehend. With her help, he learned her language in painfully slow, short bursts; the first lessons were light, uncomplicated, filled with rewards of hard sweet biscuit each time he managed to copy vowel sounds. They were easy for him. All he had to do was to watch the a, the e and the i o u tumble from her mouth and catch them with his own. Gradually his imitations became less hesitant. Soon he could say her name. It became his greatest happiness.
Whenever he watched her during their lessons, he would wonder whether his face resembled hers. In all probability, he sadly concluded, it did not. She would not have screamed so hysterically on first seeing him if it did.
He learned that she, Miranda, was beautiful, that he, Caliban, was savage but clever. She was teacher, he was pupil, but pupil s
BabydollPropping my daughter against the towel on my shoulder, I rhythmically pat her back. Nevaeh's just had her second bottle of the day, and try as I might, I still can't get her to burp. Today is no different, and in the end I give up, wipe her small round mouth, and pop her in the bouncer for a while. It's the electric kind, with a soft lullaby and swinging motion, so I know she'll be entertained while I get on with the mountain of washing that needs to be folded.Babydoll8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You wouldn't think just two people could make so much washing, but ever since her dad had left me, it seemed like the washing pile had grown larger instead of smaller. Despite the lullaby, I make conversation with her as I fold - it seems to me that it's the best way to develop her speech, for her to hear it. She's such a good, quiet baby, I often wonder how long until she starts making more noise.
By the time I've reduced "mount fold-me" to a mere foothill, she's asleep, so I leave her in the bouncer and dash out to check the m
Orphan MonsterWe could construct an heir fromOrphan Monster5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the corpses of little birds we find by the
road crooked feathers, sewn,
the remains sacrificed to the
discarded refrigerator and aborted sunflowers;
scour the pages of rulebooks from their schoolmaster
spines and give him fingers,
flexing the straight lines in delightful
around cups of blackberries
speckled with maggot duchesses;
your garden gate, his collarbones and ribs,
creaking when he tries to donate his
so he can be stopped in time;
Rouen's weeds for his trailing
mermaid legs, a consumptive
sister of Venice his dance
will be of lazy water and old
we'll lay him in the seafoam
and only remember him through
Loading...Update Failed...67%...Loading...Update Failed5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The loading bar blinked at me. It had been stuck on that number for a good minute or so and I was getting sick to death of watching it, but what else could I do? It locked down my whole computer to do this, and my computer was my life. I'm a software technician for the government, you see. I'm working on this new top-secret project and they keep forcing security checks and updates on our systems every few hours. I can't stand it. There's nothing else to do here and with the computer locked down it's almost like being in purgatory.
We were recruited straight out of university, my fellow colleagues and I. Lured with promises of a big fat paycheck and free room and board. All the health benefits you could possibly think of. They forgot to mention that the 'free room and board' is provided in an underground facility. That's a secret too; even I don't know where I am. They blindfolded me to bring me here.
The paycheck was everything
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.daydreams and monsters.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
Discourse with the DevilI offered Satan a piggy-back ride today. So up he hopped, and away we went for a walk, and I asked him all the questions I could think of. For how cruel is it to burden the Heavens with all my queries? There must be someone else to talk to.Discourse with the Devil9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I speak with the Devil. He's bound to have some interesting stories.
I ask, “What is love?”
And he says “The blood of roses and thorns.”
I ask, “Why is the sky blue?”
And he says “Because its sadness is infinite.”
I ask “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
And he says “The crosswalk was painted only in its mind.”
I continue to walk. He continues to cling.
For his unbearable heat and flame, I find him an easy package to sport. And the weight isn't noticed under the cool of the trees.
“Why are the shadows cast from the sunlight?”
“Because the darkness needs a place to play.”
“Is there a plan for me?”
“What does your calender say?
85Five children, seventeen grandchildren. Still alone.854 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the air i breathei never thought it would be you, but more and more i want to tangle you up in my brain like swirls of smoke from an exotic pipe. you're the drug i'm not addicted to, but keep going back to for more, more, more. okay, i lied. i am addicted to you. you're my gateway drug to love, and you'll linger in the bottom of my lungs forever.the air i breathe5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it all started when we were children. we didn't know back then that putting up with each other because we had to would turn into slipping off alone together. we didn't know that arguing heatedly in our shrill kid's voices would become whispers in the dark. we didn't know back when we were young, like brilliant stars in the sky, that one day we would collapse into supermassive black holes and nearly collide, nearly devour each other, nearly fuse into one.
we didn't know that we'd nearly destroy each other.
when i realized that i wanted you, it hit me like a hammer between the eyes. i desperately started looking for signs that you wanted me, too. maybe you moved
The Price of Opting OutShe woke up not in a pool of her own blood, but in the alley behind her house with one wrist healed new and pink. As light filtered down through the trees, she slapped her hand across her eyes and bolted the last few meters into her suite. Diane woke up with the sun. Slamming the door, she closed the blinds in the living room and blinked in the darkness. Making a small sound, she examined the scar on her wrist. Only the smallest traces of blood remained over what had obviously been a twisted wound. It tapered off in the impression of teeth, and she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.The Price of Opting Out1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
The phone she had left on the sink sat dead, and she checked for her pulse.
“One, two, three...” she muttered numbers and patted her still sore wrist for a pulse. Her neck was next. Prodding, she found nothing. She tried with her other hand, and still found nothing. Looking up, she saw her reflection hover like a ghost in the mirror. Her eyes were a wide, milky white that turned sharp