Fable
Life Dichotomy
She was unnoticed. That was the way she wanted it stay. She seemed to blend in with the portraits on the walls. The people didn't know who she was, where she came from or why she was there. Her mind was a chained to deception bay, swimming in the bottomless sea of her manifested indecisiveness. She nursed the rim of her wine glass with her index finger, surfing the crowd with violet eyes. As though expecting to see a familiar face. She watched as the lost dancers wove webs in and out of each other, tangled in a net of one night stands.
By Alyssia Balbi5 years ago in Fiction
A Naked King
Once upon a time, there was a powerful King. His subjects were very obedient; so obedient that they could not believe that the King could do any wrong. Over time they became the most loyal subjects. The King did not tolerate anyone who would question or even think about questioning any action of the King or his cabinet of ministers or his army generals.
By BISWANATH DATTA5 years ago in Fiction
AFTER WORDS FAILED
Letitia liked action. Whenever action was needed, there she was, ready for it, her chin stuck out as she hammered or sawed or plunged the old unreliable toilet. When she went bungey jumping from a bridge in New Zealand, she leaped before she was told to, and when she was told she couldn’t do something, she did it. Immediately.
By Fiona Hamer5 years ago in Fiction
The Force Within Her. Top Story - July 2021.
Ten translucent fingers wrap around the warm leather wheel of my convertible. The sage green Triumph leisurely twists and turns with the forest road. Gnarly trees weave together above the snaking, potholed concrete. I approach Newtown, a village nestled deep in the New Forest and my home for the next few days. Curls of red hair stream behind me in the cool southern breeze. Speckles of sunlight tickle the constellation of brown freckles on my flushed cheeks. I inhale the damp, earthy scent of the untamed wilderness deep into my lungs. Phthalo green leaves rustle playfully as the car creeps down a narrow curving lane. My chestnut eyes spot the wooden sign with ‘Woodside Lodge’ carved into its flesh. I turn the wheel, pulling into the charming holiday let.
By undertherowantree5 years ago in Fiction
Glenn And The Magic Farm
Once upon a time, in a village just beyond downtown Cleveland, there lived a simple farmer named Glenn. I apologize for the extremely overused set of prose that I just unloaded onto you. Glenn requires it whenever any of us put anything out into the press
By Brian Rosen5 years ago in Fiction
Ferdinand
My grandfather was always a strange man. He was sentimental and practical; traits that usually conflict, but he used it to tinker and brought new purpose to things that he cared about. The old barn was one of those things. By the time I was alive, it could barely be called a barn anymore. The old wood roof had been replaced with one of tin. It only had its west-facing wall, but that too had been replaced with particleboard. Even the animals once kept inside were long gone, replaced by broken lawnmowers and boats made out of hope and duct tape. Only the sturdy pine pillars survived from its original construction. We called that old shack 'the boat barn' when I was growing up; but when my father was young, it served a different purpose; it was home to Ferdinand.
By Octreyvian Killian5 years ago in Fiction
Cows Don’t Lie
The red sun was hanging low in the sky. The heat had built towering cotton candy mansions that glowed proudly with their curling golden edges. The air was thick with humidity and the sky, in all its glorious trappings threatened to dump, like summer afternoon clouds often do. The leaves of the giant oak tree in Mr. Wilson’s yard turned up to show their bellies and the wind tussled the long grass of the open field to her right. Ellie Johnson was hurrying home from visiting her Aunt Billie. Billie was short for Beatrice somehow, but Ellie, whose name was short for Elizabeth, never quite figured out how. Billie, had started tutoring Ellie on Wednesday’s during the school year, and since her mother wanted her to keep up with her academics, even over break, they continued their meetings. This would not have been Ellie’s choice of holiday activity though. She longed to join a summer camp or even just play at the community pool but her mother couldn’t afford it.
By Heather Foster5 years ago in Fiction
The Boyd Family Storehouse
Before Michaela could lift a spade, she had the rules memorized. Love the earth and it will love you. Share the harvest and you won’t go without. Never take more than you need from the barn. Every night, she fell asleep whispering those rules into the rafters, drowned out by creaking planks and the soft rustle of the crops outside her window. That mantra and the shabby farmhouse were her inheritance; the sacred rites she owed to her father.
By Steven A Jones5 years ago in Fiction
