Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
The Power of a Little Red Fabric
When I was sixteen years old, I decided to play football. That doesn't sound all too riveting, I'm aware, considering millions of sixteen-year-olds play football every year in America. But the catch was that I was a sixteen year old girl. And I did do it—play, that is. When I turned seventeen, I became the varsity placekicker and was the only girl on the team, the only girl to play football in the school's history, and to my knowledge, the only girl to ever play in and score points in a New Jersey State championship football game.
By Abigail Lets5 years ago in Confessions
The Garden
The house was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Like it had been for so many years since her husband had left her. The cat, rubbing against her legs, now offering the only companionship. Sometimes it was too much to bare, being reminded by the incessantly ticking clock above the kitchen sink of the moments to be spent in loneliness. But she endured, as she always had, by making her time in the garden out back.
By Brian M. Gelinas5 years ago in Confessions
The Vibrations of God
The Vibrations of God Nothing good happens when two sacred days collide. Our mutual friend's wedding falling on our anniversary was a cruel act of fate. The present from my husband sat on the bed taunting me. He had dared me to wear them and I had foolishly complied. I did it strictly because it was our anniversary.
By Jeremy Edwards5 years ago in Confessions
Double trouble travelling Route 66
I ‘recognised’ him when he walked into the coffee shop. A somebody. But I struggled to place him. We were in St Louis, just a few days into driving Route 66 with my friend Clare, east to west, Chicago to LA, many miles under our (seat) belt, having devoured pancakes and double shot coffees to fuel the mileage ahead.
By Mark Glover5 years ago in Confessions
Getting home from camping
It had been a fantastic weekend of camping with the girls. The pine trees surrounded us. The weather had been perfect, especially for the beach. There’s nothing like sitting on the beach, where it is not too crowded, all the space we had, just sipping on some Palm Bays.
By The Bastard Jack5 years ago in Confessions
The Tree
It was a dead-quiet weekday night, and I was safely tucked in my single- room dorm bed, scrolling through my phone. A while before, I shut all the lights off, only to leave the flame-colored desk lamp as the only source of light in the room. It was a comfortable setting after a day of hard work and a busy college schedule. The phone screen shone bright directly into my face while I checked the last late night posts on my social media feed before bed. Suddenly, the door to my balcony flung wide open, sending the curtains reeling uncontrollably into the room. My heart thundered inside my chest as I stared, frightened, at the gaping space between the inside of the room and the outside. Nothing had alerted me of a brewing storm in the middle of spring; nor had my weather app. I posed the phone on the nightstand and reluctantly got out of bed.
By Yvad Ssird5 years ago in Confessions
Unadulterated Bliss
The fire that I have for her burns deep. And with every passing day the logs pile and the fire grows. Just the sight her sends shock waves to my knees. Every "Hello", every "what are you doing" melts my inner being. I think of her day and night, I think is it lust or is it love? I ask myself how can you be so smitten after so few encounters. What is it about her that drives my nerves into the ground, makes my palms sweat , raise the hair on my neck. Is it the way she looks directly into my eyes, making me feel seen. Could it be those beautiful soft lips that tell me like it is, never muttering lies. Is it possible that her hands hold my face just so that I feel safe when ever my cheek and her palm embrace. The way she laughs perhaps, as if she hasn't a care in the world.
By Jasmine Manley5 years ago in Confessions
Poop, Goes the Weasel
At a very young age, I realized sooner than later that I wouldn't always get my way. Life has proven consistent in this aspect. The little things, you see. Anyway, the story I am about to tell you is a particularly humiliating one. I trust you, so, you must promise never to tell a soul. This is a story of how my dream of being a shy over-achiever came tumbling down in nursery 3.
By Eno Akpan5 years ago in Confessions
