Humor
The call to Hell
I hate talking on the phone, specifically I hate talking on the phone to my broadband provider and the council. It could be about housing tax, emergency repairs or a tree fell on our neighbours - anything, I don’t like talking on the phone in general not even to my friends or family but I really hate calling city council or any official organisation.
By Mohamed Ali5 years ago in Fiction
Janki’s Diary
Herbert was a man who took action when he needed to. A letter allowed him to go to India and work as a postmaster in the province of Siwan in Bihar. Herbert was ecstatic when he learned that his new salary was more than double what he had earned before. His only mistake was not understanding the consequences of his hasty departure from Canada and hasty arrival in India.
By Brandsandu5 years ago in Fiction
The Game
Rosie and Gil were in the middle of their daily jog. Rosie was slightly ahead, so didn’t notice when Gil came to a complete stop under a nearby pear tree. He reached up and grabbed two off of a branch and hollered, “Hey, Rosie!” Rosie stopped and turned back. “What is it, Gil…” she barely managed to squeak out before Gil tossed one of the pears at her. “Would you look at this,” Gil smiled as he took a bite out of the pear in his hand, “I found a pair of pears.”
By Lloyd Farley5 years ago in Fiction
A Pleasant Day at the Park
Don’t judge us. We’re just birds. Okay, don’t flip out over the fact that I’m talking to you. We just want to make sure that you understand out point of view before you lose all sense of control and start chasing us or throwing things.
By Kendall Defoe 5 years ago in Fiction
Magic is Bull💩
James did not consider himself a failed actor; just an undiscovered talent who needed a temporary job from time to time. Between failed pilots and missed breaks, he followed a sort of standard protocol: upload a semi-factual resume to every site that would take it, get a bunch of spam emails from pyramid schemes looking for charismatic-but-impressionable young talent, and eventually return to the same restaurant he’d passionately quit several times before.
By Steven A Jones5 years ago in Fiction
Creepy Date Night
About a lovely young lady who turns out to be somewhat terrifying for young men who wish to date her. Years ago, there was a young girl who lived in a secluded village with her parents. Her beautiful black hair, creamy white skin, and lovely oval eyes made her exceedingly attractive. Young Japanese men would travel long distances simply to ask her out on a date.
By Brandsandu5 years ago in Fiction
My Journey to Burnside Farm
Normally I prepare for my holidays well in advance, but on this occasion I did not. It was to be a week’s walking break in the Highlands of Scotland, staying at a farm that offered bed and breakfast and a packet of sandwiches for my daily roaming over the fells.
By John Welford5 years ago in Fiction
The Humanoid Living Factory That I Lead for My Survival Everyday
I am a human being. I am in the charge of the most complex living factory in the universe. This factory lies inside of me. Every single day, using this factory, I produce outputs using my resources, market those and sell those to earn. That earning is distributed among my employees who are working in various departments in the factory. The departments are responsible for conducting various activities.
By Moshiur Rahman5 years ago in Fiction
The Society
04/21/21 The Society Jan 28 The dreams keep getting worse. Sometimes they’re so loud, it’s like a bomb is going off. Other times, it’s deafening silence. Have you ever noticed how when it’s that quiet, the silence has its own sound? I guess that’s why we say it’s deafening. And there are screaming people. I don’t know which is worse: the dreams in which I can hear them, or the dreams in which i see them frozen with their mouths open and eyes bulging. There are bodies everywhere; most are motionless on the ground. The little bodies are the most disturbing because I know two things with full certainty: they are children, and they are dead. And there isn’t anything you can do for the dead.
By Emery Pine5 years ago in Fiction
