Last (first draft)There is no one who truly knows how to face the end that lies beyond the end of the world. One day, the seven Moons shine beneath the Sea of Enkre, as they are supposed to, and the next day you find yourself drifting away, your world diminished to a mere fragment of what it used to be. You open your eyes in the light of the Moons and for a moment you forget about the cataclysm from the night before, or you think everything was just a bad dream. You look around at the alabaster walls around you, still intact, and you tell yourself all is as before. You tell yourself there was no Armageddon, no catastrophe, you tell yourself those galaxies, all those people in them, could not have perished. But then you walk outside and you see there are only six Moons. Time drifts by and people start speaking of strange things, of cities of fire standing on the edge of the Sea of Enkre, and cliffs of ice standing beside them, and you notice there are only five Moons left.
By the time you are down to you
Modern Family"You know what you are, son? Lazy, that's what! When's the last time you shot someone?"Modern Family3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Eros sat impassively in front of his PS3, thumbing the controller at godly speed, while his father, Ares, was fuming by his side.
"Ares, dear, you know how he is," his mother said peaceably, placing a large bowl of popcorn on the table. "He'll do it when he feels ready."
Ares was a bit of a workaholic. He maintained his athletic physique though hours of grueling training every day, and he made damn sure there was at least one war somewhere in the world at all times, to keep himself busy. His son Eros, on the other hand, had always been the pudgy, lazy type. Several thousand years ago, when he was a blond, curly, cute little baby, that might have worked for him. But for a god several thousand years old to be still living with his mother and playing video games, that was a bit of a let down. Of course, he took after his mother, Aphrodite, who was notorious for spending most of her time in bed... usual
Hero"Your son wants to be a dragon slayer!"Hero2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Behind the closed door, at his favorite eavesdropping spot, Caleb shuddered. It was always bad when his mother referred to him as his father's son, even worse when she felt she needed to inform his father about it.
"Well, what are you going to do about that, John?" she went on, and Caleb could picture her frowning just by the sound of her voice.
"I'm going to disinherit him," his father said evenly. "You hear that, Caleb? Open that door and listen to this properly: if you run off to be a dragon slayer, I'm going disinherit you."
Caleb's destiny had been decided before he was born. The eldest son of a highly reputable brick-maker, he'd naturally grow into his father's trade, learn how to make bricks that would not crack open in the kiln and wouldn't break under the weight of three-stories worth of bricks layered on top of them, and eventually he'd inherit his father's kiln, tools, helpers and customers. There were people far worse
MisdemeanorSome call it discrimination. Some call it an invasion of privacy. Some call it justice. Forty years ago, when they started tagging us, there was a lot of talk about it. There were petitions and peaceful demonstrations, and riots and uprisings in some places. There were lawyers fighting on both sides and politicians kissing baby cheeks right and left – ours and theirs – while trying to figure out which side would bring them more votes. In the end it was decided the tags would stay on, but inactive. This way they don't know where we are until we use our powers. They're tuned in on our brainwaves somehow and when we use whatever gifts evolution has given us, the alarm goes off. Then it can only be turned off when we're at the police station for questioning. I suppose it could be worse: they were thinking of killing us off at some point. But it still doesn't feel right to know it's illegal to use your full potential.Misdemeanor2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
All the law-making happened before I was born, so it didn't f
It's Been Too Long"We are lost."It's Been Too Long9 months ago in Emotional More Like This
"No, it will turn out well."
"How will it?"
"I don't know. It's a mystery."
-Shakespeare in Love
It's been too long since I've seen you. I know phone connections are hopeless between us right now, so I'm kicking it old-school with a letter. When you think about it, it's surprising, what vast gulfs simple words on paper might span!
My car is in the shop again. Without you here, I never remember to get regular maintenance on it until something goes horribly awry. So I'm back to the bus for now. But it's not so bad, I can look out the windows and daydream, or read. I remember our first conversation, on a bus just like this. You took the seat next to me, made polite eye contact, then withdrew into your book. I watched you from the corner of my eye. You were so engrossed in the story, eyes sometimes widening, often chewing your lip absently. So pretty, even then. Bu
Came But For FriendshipSome people believe in love at first sight. I can't say I'm one of those people. Seems that every single person I found myself attracted to ended up being a dud in the love department. Sure there were good times and some laughs, and even a bit of romance. Though none of them ever amounted to anything more than a few weeks of fun then a lot of tears and heartbreak.Came But For Friendship2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
That is, until I met the serial killer.
Okay, I'm being a bit extreme, he wasn't a serial killer, I just thought he was a serial killer. Well, that's not quite right, either. I didn't know if he was a serial killer, but he could have been. He certainly looked like one.
All right, I realize this is all probably confusing to you, so why don't I start from the beginning. And when I say beginning, I mean the day that I joined the writers's group.
It was a Friday evening and I was nervous. A few weeks earlier I had been hanging out at a comic book shop in downtown Milwaukee and had seen a photocopied ad on their bulletin board. It
HowlTHE GIRLHowl9 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
On the porch, she felt safer. The warm light high on the wall, next to the rocking chair that was cradling her seemed to tell her so, with its golden reassurance.
Imustnotthinkthat, she repeated in her head, pressing her eyelids shut. Daddy will be good, hepromisedhepromised. She'll be all right.
She hugged her legs as a scream and a bark came from inside the house, making her flinch. Daddy?
"Daddy?" she called out, already forgetting that he had asked her not to make noise. The silence extended until she could no longer stand it. She stepped down from the rocking chair and went inside the house, walking slowly, her steps and breath on a single beat.
The living room door swung open, her daddy coming out of it and hurrying to close it back with a gasp once he saw her; he didn't want her to see, even she understood that. He's scared. "Daddy, are you okay?"
He sighed. "Yes, sweetie, I'm fine."
"But - but I heard you scream..."
Survival Guide for the Thin-Skinned WriterIf you've ever thought of becoming a published writer, you must know the path to publication entails two things that go hand in had: submissions and rejections. If you're thick-skinned enough not to get depressed about rejections and analyze them with an impersonal, objective eye, all the better for you. But if you happen to be the sensitive type who makes a big deal out of the usual "your submission isn't a good fit for us", then the whole process might be very painful. It would be a good idea to toughen up and grow a thick skin, of course, but what do you do when you can't thicken your skin just by wishing it?Survival Guide for the Thin-Skinned Writer2 years ago in Literature Features More Like This
As a this-skinned writer who had been suffering from depression even before she began submitting her stories to magazines, and who has received around 150 rejections so far, I've gathered a few ideas on how to deal with rejection when not being affected by it isn't an option.
1. Give yourself a little treat for every rejection you get. Personally, I prefer chocolate beca