Love

From what binds us.
To my beloved Ariel, It’s been three lonely years and my heart aches for you. I never stopped looking for you. Jennifer from the Briar colony gathered a plenty of volunteers to search the badlands. But alas, to no avail. Our homestead is still untouched… for now. I was given word that the spineless tyrant Leo from Cyro is moving his men south in search of more towns to pillage, and women to claim for himself. The Briar colonists are moving west over Janson river in order to miss the raids. They’re ill-equipped to deter them, much less to advance..
By AM Ghandour 5 years ago in Fiction
Maintenance Window
Corina has been laying in bed awake, staring at the tiny picture frame for more than an hour. She should be sleeping. Tomorrow is a big day. But she can’t stop thinking about the meaning of what she’s holding in her hands. Callie would tell her that she’s a hopeless romantic. That’s what she always tells her, and frankly sometimes it bothers her a little. Wanting a spark, or at least some connection doesn’t make her a romantic. Yes, she knows that the purpose of Maintenance Window is the survival of their tribe, but you can have both survival and a connection. That’s not hopeless, is it? But Corina knows not to make a fuss. There’s no point in arguing with Callie: she will never win the argument. If they lived Above like the ancient ones, Callie could have been a lawyer. Corina tells her that, but Callie hasn’t read the books, so she doesn’t know what it means and when Corina tries to explain, it all sounds too foreign to her friend. For Corina, that’s hard to fathom. Why wouldn’t you want to know what the past was like, when people lived Above? Callie is a practical one, maybe a little too practical in Corina’s mind; she claims that reading the books only creates longing for what they can not have so she hasn’t even bothered to learn how to read - and won’t admit she enjoys being read to. Instead she plans for the future, while Corina thirsts to understand the past, to give some meaning to her existence. They complement each other like that, and maybe that’s why they have always been such good friends.
By Patty ASA5 years ago in Fiction
Relentless Search
It has been years since I last saw the sun without the constant dust clouds covering it. If it were not for my own reflection of my eyes, I think I would have forgotten what the color green looked like. I remember these hills of Texas when I was a kid with my mom, rolling green pastures are now bare and dust, burned by the sun and no one keeping them going. I remember my former life as I drink and splash water on my face. They used to be beautiful before the world went to hell. I am glad my mom was gone before we came back here, she would be heartbroken to see the world her beloved hill country has become. “Kady, come on!” Lark’s voice intrudes on my memories. I look up at my best friend. Lark is not very tall, but her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with her bright blue eyes shining with mischief, but she is fast, and her size will mislead anyone who comes against us. She keeps me going.
By Kandice Weger-Herrera5 years ago in Fiction
The Real Never-Ending Saga
“Evil lies within the power to give peace”. It was the most unusual of engravings Alex had seen in his 39 years of appraising fine jewelry. There was no stamp, yet it was definitely gold, the purest he had seen, possibly the oldest he had seen. Consulting the items’ intake form, the owner a man named Don Abad, had warned in the comments that, under no circumstance, was he to open the attached locket. This, however, seemed remissible to his duty, he had to at least check for a quality stamp or some evidence of source. After perusing every link of the remarkably unblemished, yet ancient chain, he gave into his curiosity. Superstitions, he premised, are just superstitions.
By Michael Ballard5 years ago in Fiction
The Sun Always Follows the Storm
Traffic was steady on I-75 North. It was a brisk spring day in northern Michigan. Naomi was about thirty minutes from the Mackinaw bridge. This would be the entry way for her new life. The doorway open to be able find herself again, while the other shutting out the suffering of her past. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight, her knuckles started to swell. She couldn’t help thinking if she was making the right decision. Naomi was pandering the same thought the whole entire eight-hour trip. Is it worth to drop everything to start over again? And there it was, the bridge. As soon as she laid eyes on it, she knew it was her only hope for an escape.
By Taylor Isler5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart of War
Thea’s ears were still ringing, and she could barely feel the ash raining on her as the aftershock of the rumbling bombs kept detonating around her. When she was finally able to open her eyes she glanced at the once perfect wall in front of her where a photo of her family hung perfectly was now cracked, the dry wall exposed and the photo frame was broken and on the floor. The ceiling was breaking, and the kitchen was gone and she could see thick clouds of smoke and smell gas burning. The house was now caving in, everything had instantly fallen to shambles as she tried to regain a coherent state of mind. She couldn’t tell if it was her house or something outside but she knew she has to find her way out.
By Charlotte5 years ago in Fiction
Electric
Jessica was living in two worlds. The world in her head become the place of utopia-the world around her apocalyptic. As the reality of existence was at a turning point she remained optimistic in the hope of finding her soul. It had been taken from her, in a just small encounter, it was stolen. She had but just a small heart-shaped locket to replace it.
By Sarah Cardilini5 years ago in Fiction
The Catfish and the Storm
The Catfish and the Storm The wind blew softly off the bay. The mangroves trembled at the waters edge, their scraggly roots reaching into the brackish water searching for a drink. Thomas walked along the shoreline, his feet dragging in the clean white substrate. His breath caught sharply when he rounded the corner by the fire pit.
By Jean-Pierre Ducasse5 years ago in Fiction
Seeds of Hope, Seeds of Healing
"Do you even know how to grow a garden anyway? Do you even know how to grow a garden anyway?" The words echoed in my mind, sweeping over me again and again like ice-cold ocean waves. I moaned, but couldn't escape the taunting echo that grew louder each time instead of softer. Then the sound of gunshots ricocheted across my memory and I woke.
By TheaMarie Burns5 years ago in Fiction
Love Eternal
Silence. Silence is all that remains now, and it reminds me of the day the bombs went off. The walls of the shelter were thick enough to block out the screams, but you could still hear the pounding on the thick, steel walls as people begged to be let in. To be saved. Pleading to be given at least one more day on this now forsaken planet.
By Luke DeWitt5 years ago in Fiction
Finding Self
“I’ve heard enough of this nonsense!” I cried. I ran into my room. I knew it would be my safe place but even there I no longer felt peace and tranquility. I slammed the door to break the voices in my head. I breathe and feel my lungs work like a faulty filter struggling to clear my mind. I begin to choke. I throw myself onto the bed with frustration because I want to move about but I want to do nothing at all. What was once comfortable now feels like a lump of sand. I needed control and I have lost that.
By Sophia Baez5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
He did not understand today. He sat in his room awaiting for the group to arrive. His room was gray, the only color he had ever known. The walls were the same from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself was this same wretched neutrality. The floor was dull to the point of no different. He had other colors in life such as the green blanket upon his bed, colored images in textbooks, and small objects and signs placed throughout the metallic confines of the ship he lived endless days, months, and years to in a drab existence. Always there was only gray, nonetheless. He had a small end table near the bed, the bed itself, a closet, and a desk filled with his drab uniforms. All of which were gray. The room was without windows. He had no understanding of day and night, but grayness was everywhere. In his hands, however, he held the locket she had given him. It was not gray. The heart was rose gold with a ruby inlaid, and he only knew this because she had said so. He only knew it was as beautiful as her voice. The chain gleamed like her eyes singing life as it had done when he first met her months ago. He held it tight in his hands as he had done endlessly since...well, since he did not understand today nor did he understand since either. He only knew that his gut was tied up in knots and his heart was empty. He saw the door handle turn, and they entered his room. He looked only down as they entered.
By Joseph Murch5 years ago in Fiction