GrassYou wake up and it's spring again. The kids have all grown up and moved out. Your neighbor needs to mow her lawn but she is too seasoned for long exposure to the southern sun. It dawns on you one night when you're grilling steaks for your family. Your daughter calls you over to the table. She's on her third glass of wine. She met a man in graduate school. He doesn't drink. They clear their throats in unison and announce that they are engaged and plan to be married next January. You're happy for them but that is getting further and further from your mind. Your eyes shift over to the tall weeds growing only feet away from your wife's roses. You think about the fact that your neighbor never mentioned grandchildren. She never mentioned anyone. You think about the boy down the street who died in that car accident this winter. He always took care of her yard for a priGrass3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
JarsMy childhood home, a gray, old farm house, sat nestled near the small town of McKean Pennsylvania. My father moved us there from Pittsburgh in 1954 when I was no taller than a limp potato sack. I was their only child at the time. He said the city was no place to raise a family. We needed room to run and explore and my mother needed a quiet place to work on her writing. However, in three years of living there she gave birth to four of my brothers. So much for peace and quiet. There must have been something in the water.Jars3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Folks in town liked to whisper about that house like it was some kind of architectural Jezebel. By the time I could spell my own name I had heard dozens of rumors and stories surrounding our home. There were certainly enough to keep my young mind racing through many sleepless nights. Some of the more elaborate stories suggest a mass murder of the previous occupants by their deranged
A Civil War EssayThe Civil WarA Civil War Essay8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
By: Nellie Melton
The war began when a bunch of people in the lower hemisphere of Americaland were ticked off at the ones above them because they ate all the pizza. What really used a straw to break a camel's back though was when Lincoln was voted to be the president. South Carolina was all "AW HELL NAW," and separated from the Union. Then, all the other states down there were all "Hey, let's jump on the bandwagon too!" And so they did. However, the Union was going "OH NO YOU DI'INT", so they started the war. This made people generally upset.
The first major battle of the war was when Lincoln was trying to open a jar of pickles. Then, the SECOND major battle of the war was called "The Battle of Bull" or something along the lines of that. This battle was important because a lot of people lost and it made the North and South realize that THIS IS A FREAKIN' WAR AND OF COURSE IT'S NOT GOING TO END RIGHT AWAY. THEY NEVER DO. Unless it's the Seven Day's War, in which Sadako fou
ghosts in a slideshowghosts in a slideshow5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
the skysick sun, fading woozy, throwing up.
dripping on the backs of conveying camels.
bodies of water, yes, every touch moves through.
grassland often. skinny belly atop the garden hill's slope.
train-track thap-thapping. smile, God's tap dancing on a saturday sundown.
you're watching the show frontrow. i'm watching you.
i say, "those mistakes on your arm look nice in this light." but i don't. not aloud.
instead i say, "do they hurt when it's cold?"
and you say, "it's not cold right now."
so i say, "i didn't notice." but we don't. not aloud. not allowed.
so i say, "you look hurt." no. i say,
"you look pretty."
yeah. i said that.
then you looked at me. then you cried. because i'm a liar. only to you.
i mean, to you only, i am a liar.
i mean you see me as a liar.
but you know what? everything's alright in my mind.
and that's good for me for now.
"hey, V?" that's what you said.
"yeah?" i said.
"where are we?"
"we're here, dear. we're right here."
tell me i'm lying. tell me there's a me a
the greatest show on earthlast night, I glimpsed a great white egg,the greatest show on earth6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
in the dark behind my eyelids. it was being
broken open by a dull, green beer bottle. out
poked the snout of a drunk, under-age Tyrannosaurus
Rex. he spoke in a spray of tiny bubbles.
"I've decided that 'The Kensington Landlord' is
a hilarious title for a fake, black & white, British,
horror film. at first, I didn't know if it was hilarious
or if it was only funny to me. then, I realized they meant
exactly the same thing."
"back in the 1940s, Webby was a tough, bright yellow,
baby duckling who wore a faded brown cabbie hat. he
took no nonsense. he ruffled a lot of feathers
...things are different now."
"it is unusual for a panda and a lion to go out on
a blind date. however, it is more unusual for them
to hit it off over a few drinks - only to discover
they share a close family relation, make identical
flimsy excuses for sudden departure, and leave
the bar, awkward & ashamed."
"in a fight between a giant squid & an angry cow,
location is everyt
Prince!England X Reader: The Royal BloodlinePrince!England X Reader: The Royal Bloodline3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Arthur escaped from the castle again for the who knows my many times with his horse. According to him, life inside the castle sucks as hell, everything gets on your way, not letting you do whatever you please. No matter what you do, you were always get dictated.
He got out from the castle by disguising as a carriage man, thankfully it worked unbelievably, the security inside was so tight. Arthur went out to town to see what his people doing.
'Lively as always...' he thought to himself as he tied his white horse at the fences.
He always loved this town, the smell of the foods and the kind and cheerful people. He walked and walked until he got satisfied, and then, he saw a terribly familiar looking girl with a (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. He approached to her and talked to her without a second thought.
"Hey there, can I ask what's your name, miss?" he said with a calm voice. He didn't care what she'll think of him.
"_-_____..." you replied shyly, surprised at the unusual question.
Done Because it was a dream, it didn't seem quite real. The dreamer slept lightly under an equally light quilt.Done3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When the dream was over, the dreamer woke *snap* wide awake, and sat up to think about that dream.
There wasn't much to it.
There was a hand holding a white rose.
There was another hand reaching for the rose.
There was a voice like a narrator.
The voice said this...
Consider this flower. No, not the half-bloom of the rose, though it is a single flower and is to be noted. No, consider the leaf on the stem of the flower. It is also single, just one deep green leaf. There is only one leaf. Why is that? Leaves are usually surrounded by others. It is the single leaf you must see, not the single rose.
The dreamer, awake
your warmthyou stood in the doorway, damp orange light falling across your skin, black hoodie falling from your shoulders gently, hair a mess - and you were all but perfect. you stood, leaning against the door frame a little too drunk, and smiled at me. it was that kind of smile that i knew meant more than it should have, the one i have seen too many times since - the kind of smile that meant something. i'd like to tell myself it meant the world - that when, for the first time in a year, our eyes met and you told me something that wasn't a lie - the stars had aligned or the universe corrected itself - but i know that's not true.your warmth3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we kissed that night, the alley way beside your house. you ran your hand along my legs, along my ripped tights, and i could feel your heartbeat under the sleeve of the shirt i had always loved. you stared at me, face relaxed, and told me that you had wanted that for a year.
sometimes, i think i have too.
my heart didn't explode though, and my knees didn't shudder undernea
wish upon a starthe air is always cold this time of year, you once told me as we lay in bed, warm, watching the last few seconds of christmas eve fall away. you whispered merry christmas in my ear, ran your hand along the the valley of my waist and told me that you had the best christmas present ever. i didn't need to ask what it was, because i already knew.wish upon a star3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
'this time of year, miracles come true,' i could tell you were murmuring through a smile into my shoulder 'if you just close your eyes and wish upon a star hard enough.'
giggling, i closed my eyes and wished that i would wake up next to you. when you asked me what i wished for, i turned to face you, and through a succession of small kisses i whispered that i couldn't tell you, or it wouldn't come true.
god, we always thought we were so young.
you know, i have closed my eyes every year since then, and wished for the same thing. this year though, i lay in my double bed alone, sheets littered with cigarette burns and little pieces of wrapping paper.
Don't Be Nervous ::Frerard::Don't Be Nervous ::Frerard::8 years ago in Teen More Like This
Hair danced into the wind, wishing desperately to be free but unable to free itself from its bondage. Blinding emerald eyes rose, merely gems cut into the cool porcelain face. He was like a doll, a tiny, frail doll: black hair framing his face, the deathly white skin, the overall perfection of his layout. It made his knees go weak with desire, just thinking about him. And he hated it.
Frank, the doll whispered, a hand trailing forward into the air. Please dont be angry with me.
A shudder wracked his body as he held tightly onto his sweat jacket. Im not angry with you, he murmured softly, looking down at his shoes. They were the canvas style, in which he had painted all over them; designs were laced onto them, things he had thought of off the top of his head. Lyrics from songs he enjoyed or he had made up, but they were there, beauty and all.
The crystal-like eyes sparkled with tears that were too frightened to be released from their
a spiritual agnosticismthe search for truth in the universe,a spiritual agnosticism3 years ago in Editorial More Like This
is not a denial, but an affirmation -
that there is a mysterious 'godliness'
in the way the cosmos proceeds in
its endless evolution:
- 'bending toward justice'.
- spiritual, not religious, pervading
every atom, therefore pervading us.
- common to everything.
- connecting everyone.
- a patient faint consciousness,
in touch with all sentient awareness.
- no 'one' answer; each of us connects
in our own way... or fails to.
not having a need to believe in 'a' God,
leaves one open to have common faith
with everyone, to think of all others
as brothers and sisters.
we are all 'of' the universe.
if, there comes a time when one feels
a connection to a special religion
or concept of a God, then one may,
without dogmatically condemning others,
'decide' to accept that as one's own form
it must be done voluntarily... and
with true humility, in that one keeps
in mind that faith is a personal choice,
that there is absolutely no honest way
one can 'kno
David FirthThere was a little boy named Sheila. He didn't like the name very much, but it was what his parents gave him in pretty Hanukkah wrapping paper for his third birthday (in June), and he lost the receipt a while ago.David Firth4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sheila lived a few houses down from me, and you would often find us shooting at whatever living things we could find at the park till the sun got bored and fell down behind the ground-pimples.
One day, Sheila got very sick. He went to the hospital, and I visited as soon as I could and came into his room. There was a very old man in a dusty coat stroking Sheila's forehead, but Sheila didn't know him so he asked the man to leave. The man revealed that his name was Death, and he told Sheila it was time to go. Sheila couldn't prove the man wrong, so he got up and left with him.
To this day, I haven't seen Sheila again.
But I have tea with Sheila's tortoise, sometimes. Her name is Thomas. It seems the apple fell closer to the tree than Sheila would have liked to know. Hehe. He.
The Gentle WolfSera's searched the cooridors of the mansion, trying to find any information on Raven. The archives just repeated what she already knew. No, she had to confront him and meet him in person. Grabbing her coat and tieing her hair behind her head in the pony tail that was forced on her to wear for formal events, she put her hand on the door knob when Cynthia's hand touched her shoulder.The Gentle Wolf5 years ago in Teen More Like This
"Were are you going Sera's?" she asked.
"Did i disturb your slumber, sorry Ma'am, i was uhm going to feed." Sera's quickily thought up at the last second. Cynthia bought into the lie and smiled.
"So young and innocent. It is truely a crime to make someone as young as yourself a true vampire." Cynthia said walking up the stairwell and disappearing around a corner. Letting out a sigh of pressure release, Sera's closed the door and walked out into the cold night, in search of Raven.
The empty buildings was the first place she searched but to no aveil, Raven did not seem to be anywhere she looked. The back alle
Sweet Tea in the SouthIn the summer I'll hear them chatter and babble and chuckle and cluck like two frivolous chickens in pink polka dot dresses. I'll be peering down aisle nine and see neat rows of tea and crunchy, sugary biscuits they can shove into their mouths, indulge in their spoken virtues as little crumbs sprinkle onto their laps. They're heaving tomatoes drenching under summer sun, the crows feet under their baby blue eyes lapping up experience in the years they've lived down here, where sweet tea is a delicacy swimming around fat ice cubes. They'll haul their modern wagonwheel through the maze of eye twinkling treats, chirping for their tomato faced young while waddling away.Sweet Tea in the South4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
I'll see them breezing past me in a feeding frenzy, two, three, four little chicks hustling over to their rather plump parents. They'll lug their crusted heels down the path, pecking for some chocolate chip cookies or those spicy pork skins with really mind boggling logo designs.
Izaya meets a fangirlIzaya meets a fangirl3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A fangirl asked a Izaya if he thought she was pretty and
he said no.
She asked him if he would want to be with her forever and
he said no. She then asked him if she were to leave would he cry, and once
again he replied with a no.
She had heard enough. As she walked away, tears streaming down her face Izaya grabbed her arm and said....
"You're not pretty, you're ugly as $h1t. I don't want to be with you forever, I don't want you to exist. And I wouldn't cry if you walked away...I'd laugh my @$$ off."
♥♥ ~~THE END~~ ♥♥
Ode II.When I was a first-year medical student at fresher events, people used to say to me, "Oh wow, I bet you see lots of amazing stuff!" The simple answer to that was not really, not at that time. I'd been a medical student for a few weeks. No, I can't diagnose your knee problem or advise you which tablet you should be taking for your sinusitis. I've only got a few weeks on you. I certainly don't have stories of the weird and wonderful to share with you, much as I'd like to.Ode II.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I think that the only time I've really sat down and reflected on this, is right now, almost at the end of my fourth year. This is when it strikes me how much has changed since I stood there in those fresher parties. Nowadays, when my friends and I get together, we do actually share stories of the weird and wonderful. I've done some rather 'special' special modules (sexual health clinic module, A&E/ER module ), so I've had some truly weird and wonderful stories to share. I think a number of people may remember me ap
incendiaryit was the city -- you know, a self-contained organism, a microcosm of reality in which we all take part. it's like a play, with our very orchestrated roles rehearsed perfectly until we can pull them off as smooth as ice.incendiary3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it doesn't matter which city, because really, they're all the same -- paris, milan, barcelona...lawrence, pittsburgh, atlanta.
what matters is only that we were in the city. i was myself, playing the role of a love-struck jeweler, praying i could find just the right gem to put on my lover's finger someday, and she was herself, playing the role of sara.
sara, my love; sara, my heart; sara, the snow beneath my feet, the ice begging for me to slip
but still, we were here. glimpses of this city swallow my hunger -- i might never eat again if this were my home, the way it filled me up. but the moment i broke eye contact with this entity, this city with its glittering skyline, i felt the hollows in me ache again.
it felt rig
two weeksmadeline wants to paint a picture on a canvas.two weeks5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
she wants to build a tree house and wants her netball team to win the final.
meet someone new every day. she wants to realise pink's an ugly colour and throw out all of her clothes.
she wants to make her first phone call to a boy and hold his hand and go to his house. she wants to get butterflies and wants to share a hot chocolate with him. she wants to have her first kiss.
she wants to listen to music until its all she can hear. she wants to fail tests and say fuck studying, she wants to get a detention and wants to tell her parents that she handed in the excursion money, but keep it for herself.
madeline wants to get high and get a piercing and tell everyone she's fighting the power. she wants to try being vegetarian for a week. she wants to skip school and go to parties. she wants to stumble home in the early morning.
she wants to detox and spend all sunday sleeping. she wants to apologise to her parents and try so very hard to
Dear DiaryDear Diary10 years ago in Humor More Like This
I ate a sandwich today. I realized for the first time that one does not use a spoon to eat them. I was at the deli and I ordered my usual, a turkey breast with salmon, bacon, and teriyaki sauce, sat down and began to eat, spoon in hand. The man next to me turned and said, "You know… You don't use a spoon to eat sandwichs…"
This blew me away. All that I had known: destroyed. My world became swirling mist of the unknown. Every fact I thought I knew suddenly came into question. The way of the universe died that day.
The man grew concerned about the glazed look I had while I was shaking uncontrollably in my chair. I snapped to, spoon still in my grasp. Then I stabbed him with it. A lot.
Thanks for ruining my day, asshole.
Today was unusual. I went to the super market and the cashier winked at me. I mean, it's good to be winked at by such a beauty of a person, but I didn't think it was very appropriate. Flattered, I gave a small sign of rejection, whi
this is not my cardiganGod, he is smiling at the waitress with big eyes as she brings him his dinner. i can see the gnarls of his hands from a dozen feet away, his chair pulled close to the wooden table. i watch him reveal his little teeth, presumably polydented dentures. he is wearing a yellow sweater, a cardigan with elbow patches.this is not my cardigan5 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
the chair across from him is empty and in the same grain pattern as the table with his towering pile of supper. my brother asks if i know why he is alone and i tell him to keep silent. his wife died, he told me, with a smile. the old man turns his eyes to his meal and slowly begins to eat.
God, please forgive me for not sitting with him; forgive me for not telling him i am so sorry and i love him; please forgive me for not crying into his sweater or being enough
epiphany # 244: we will find this man again someday, and show him love still exists at the bottom of our hearts and a teacup.
Dear Kira,Dear Kira,Dear Kira,6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I feel it's necessary to say 'dear [insert name]' at the beginning of every letter, because that's how we were taught to write letters, but some people just say the person's name without 'dear' and it makes them sound upset. I personally would like to say 'oh sweet' or 'oh so lovely' in place of 'dear' sometimes.
Oh sweet Kira,
Sometimes I imagine being a famous actor, author, or musician's son. How cool would that be? But the more I think about it, the more I realize it probably wouldn't be as exhilarating as it seems if I actually were. Their kids probably don't see them as superstars. And that thought reminds me that the family I have are superstars, even if it's only in my galaxy.
Oh so lovely Kira,
VisionsThere's a saying among my people. It was something about how you have nothing to fear from a pond full of leeches, how it's not the pond's fault. I used to remember it a lot more clearly, but that was before the loss of cohesion.Visions4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The elders say I was sent as a warning of things to come. The medicine man never said much of anything. He waved his bones and feathers and trinkets around, he lit his grasses and fanned his smokes, and after singing his songs he just stared at me with a deep pity shining out from under his skeleton make up.
I am subject to visions. They are sudden and striking and painful to the point of debilitation. When they come, my senses stagger and die off. There is always a great sound like a huge zipper being pulled, and as it unzips, all other noises fade into nothingness. Gray static envelopes the edges of my visual field and creeps slowly and deliberately in, turning my surroundings to an indistinct slate.
I discovered this gift when I was fourteen. A robber had b
harlequinade smilehe has a harlequinade smile and sometimes we fuck under the stars. in the backyard; a mess of drunken, tired limbs shaking in the breeze and shaking under one another, we disregard everything we care about for as long as we want and everything is perfect as long as we keep it that way.harlequinade smile5 years ago in Teen More Like This
we collapse into each other; our heartbeats slowing and our breaths becoming deeper as we lay next to each other and watch what we can see of the stars from our suburban backyard. he tells me they're beautiful, and all i can remember is the real stars; the real night sky without the purple haze of pollution clouding the sky. i want to show him the real night sky one day.
he tells me he wishes moments like these could last forever, as we lie side by side watching as the purple-black sky fades into blue and the stars cease to exist for another day. his dark, tired eyes stare through me and i haven't slept but it doesn't matter, because his smile is warm and his hands gentle, resting in the curve of my back