Jeff, I love you, but... for some reason I can only see you as a friend, who likes the same kind of women I do as well as the same good food and drink. You are a guy who is easy to talk to and enjoy the game with no matter the sport. When you and that special lady finally set the date, I will be your best man, and I know you will be mine. Jeff, I love you to the end of time for our friendship no matter the distance will not fail at all friend of mine.
About the Creator
Mark Graham
I am a person who really likes to read and write and to share what I learned with all my education. My page will mainly be book reviews and critiques of old and new books that I have read and will read. There will also be other bits, too.
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More stories from Mark Graham and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Danny and Bernie
One day Danny went out walking and just wandering and wondering around the forest. As he was walking, he nearly ran into Bernie, his friend the skunk, who seemed to be doing the same thing. What's you doing? they both asked. Just out for a walk for I was kind of bored. I was thinking the same thing, so I meandered out of house and here we are. Let's have a race over to those berries and who gets there first gets the tastiest berries. Okay. I believe Danny decided to let Bernie win for all knen Danny was fastest.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
Choose Your Own Adventure: St Helena Station
*****Preface***** I have been obsessed with Choose Your Own Adventure stories since I was a kid. I credit them with my love of reading and writing. I've been struggling to get my own kids to embrace words the same way I have but they love video games and our occasional Dungeon's and Dragon's game... which gave me an idea. I'll write an interactive story. So far its working; my middle son loves it and can't wait for the next section to come out.
By Sandor Szabo4 days ago in Fiction
The City That Remembered Your Name
On a cold November evening, Elena boarded a train that did not appear on any timetable. She had spent the whole day wandering through the old central station of Valmere, a quiet European city tucked between mountains and sea. The station itself looked like a relic of another century—arched ceilings of stained glass, brass clocks ticking too loudly, and walls layered with the ghosts of old travel posters advertising destinations that no longer existed. Elena was not searching for adventure. She was running from it. Three weeks earlier, her brother Luca had vanished without explanation. No goodbye. No message. Just an abandoned apartment and a phone that rang into silence. The police had closed the case with careful words and tired eyes: People leave sometimes. But Elena knew Luca. He never left without telling her where he was going. That evening, while sitting on a wooden bench near Platform 9, she noticed a flicker of movement at the far end of the station. A train had arrived without sound. Its carriages were painted a deep, midnight blue, and its windows glowed faintly from within. Above it, a single sign blinked: Destination: NOMEVIA Elena had never heard of such a place. Neither had her phone. Before she could think, she stood up and walked toward the train. Something in her chest tightened, as if the air itself were calling her name. The doors slid open. Inside, the train was nearly empty. A single conductor stood near the entrance, dressed in an old-fashioned uniform with silver buttons and a hat tilted low over his eyes. “Ticket?” he asked. “I don’t have one,” Elena said. The conductor studied her face for a long moment, then reached into his pocket and handed her a thin paper slip. “You already paid,” he replied. “You just don’t remember when.” The doors closed. The train began to move. Subtitle 2: The City Without Maps Nomevia did not appear on any map. When the train stopped, Elena stepped into a city made of pale stone and soft light. Streets curved in impossible directions, and buildings seemed to lean inward, as if listening. The air smelled of rain and old books. People walked calmly through the streets, but something was strange about them. When Elena passed, they looked at her with recognition. “Welcome back,” a woman whispered. A child pointed at her. “That’s her.” Elena’s heart pounded. “Back from where?” She followed a narrow street into a wide square dominated by a clock tower. Its hands did not show time but names—thousands of names, engraved in gold, circling endlessly. At the base of the tower, someone stood waiting. “Luca,” Elena breathed. Her brother looked thinner, his hair longer, but his eyes were the same. Alive. Real. “You found it,” he said softly. “I hoped you would.” “Where are we?” she demanded. “Why did you disappear?” Luca glanced at the tower. “This is Nomevia. The city that remembers people the world forgets.” Elena stared at him. “That makes no sense.” “It does,” Luca said. “Think about it. Refugees with no papers. Artists whose work was burned. People erased by war, history, or fear. When no one speaks your name anymore, Nomevia does.” Elena felt cold. “And you?” “I wasn’t forgotten,” Luca said. “Not yet. But I was close.” Subtitle 3: The Price of Being Remembered They walked through streets lined with libraries instead of shops. Inside each building were shelves filled not with books, but with lives—photographs, letters, recordings of voices speaking in dozens of languages. “This is where names go when no one says them anymore,” Luca explained. Elena touched a dusty photograph of a young soldier. Beneath it was written: Marek Nowak, 1916–1939. Remembered by no one. Her chest tightened. “Why did you come here?” she asked. Luca hesitated. “I started hearing it in my dreams. The city. It called me. I thought… maybe I could help.” “Help how?” “By leaving the real world and staying here,” he said. “If I stay, someone else can return. Nomevia trades memory for presence.” Elena stopped walking. “You’re saying… you replace someone?” Luca nodded. “Someone who no longer has anyone left to remember them.” Elena’s voice trembled. “And if I take you back?” “Then someone else disappears into silence.” The tower chimed. A new name appeared on its face. ELENA MORO Her breath caught. “Why is my name there?” Luca’s face paled. “Because you found the city. It has noticed you.” Subtitle 4: The Choice The conductor appeared beside them, silent as a shadow. “Time is limited,” he said. “One of you must stay.” Elena felt her knees weaken. “That’s not a choice. That’s cruelty.” “Memory is never fair,” the conductor replied. “But it is necessary.” Elena looked at Luca. Her brother. The only family she had left. “You were going to give up your life for strangers,” she said. Luca smiled sadly. “Aren’t strangers just people waiting to be known?” Elena thought of the tower. The names. The forgotten faces. She made her decision. “I will stay,” she said. Luca grabbed her arm. “No.” “You brought me here,” she whispered. “So you could leave. I see it now. You wanted someone to remember you enough to replace you.” Luca’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean for it to be you.” “But it is,” Elena said. She turned to the conductor. “Take him home.” The conductor nodded. The city trembled. Light rose from the tower and wrapped around Luca. His voice echoed once: “I’ll remember you.” Then he was gone. Subtitle 5: The City That Knows Her Name Years passed in Nomevia. Elena became a keeper of names. She recorded stories, preserved memories, and whispered them into the tower at night so they would never vanish. Sometimes, trains arrived with new travelers. Some returned. Some stayed. And in the real world, Luca told people about a strange city that saved his life. He wrote about it. He spoke Elena’s name to anyone who would listen. Because of him, Elena’s name never disappeared from the tower. And because of her, thousands of forgotten lives were spoken again. In a city that remembered everyone, she learned the most powerful truth: As long as someone says your name, you are never truly lost.
By Iazaz hussain2 days ago in Fiction
📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 02/05/2026
Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted most alternating Thursdays at 12PM ET to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
By Raise Your Voice by Vocal4 days ago in Resources
Comments (7)
Please forgive the clumsy cut and paste. I would like to publish your entry (or entries) to the Oh-Jeff challenge in an upcoming book and of course need your permission to do so. Details are all here: https://todaysurvey.life/writers/oh-jeff-the-book%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E Thanks, Ray
Very nice drabble, Mark, and response to the prompt, too.
Nicely done!
Great drabble, Mark and thanks for your entry to the challenge.
Interesting take in the challenge Like it
I haven’t seen the challenge, but it reads like a superb entry!!
Awe tinged with sadness