Short Story
A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE
The winter wind is blowing like snot across Saskatchewan as my two friends and I huddle in a half-ton truck, the heat cranked high to warm our frigid bodies. As we bump along a frozen deeply rutted road leading to a highway, which leads to another butt-fuck town, I wonder where we will spend the night. My friend Rex Smith is driving, and I’m squished between him and his brother Cyril on the front seat, which I suppose is the back seat too, since there is only one seat in the truck. Rex has a contract to hook up underground telephone lines all over the province and to think I left balmy Vancouver Island for a couple of weeks to be with my friends without pay; not my idea of a winter vacation; busty-blondes sipping pinacolatos stretched out beside a pool in a Mexican resort was more to my liking but I doubted my wife would have approved.
By Len Sherman5 years ago in Fiction
before the end
No one lived anymore. I mean really lived. No one laughed, no one dreamed, no one loved. It wasn't allowed. The sky was gray, such a uniform and unchanging gray that all the color seemed leeched from the world. Gloomy, heavy, and dull. Overcast with a thunderous foreboding of control. I wished for drumbeats, for peace, for music, or dance. I wished that the sky would ever break its formation and let out the ozone, to smell fresh air and feel thunder shake the walls and reverberate in my chest. I wasnt a child when the Black Army took control.I could still remember the thrill of running through a rainstorm, feeling soaked to the bone and the cozy comfort of dry skin and clothes after coming in, as outside the storm raged.
By Melissa Eaves5 years ago in Fiction
Our Own Terms
Mom always said to keep pushing, to keep moving. We were survivors. We survived when we lost the house. We survived when dad left. W survived when the world changed, and the schools closed. We even survived when the explosions started and it seemed like the lights would be out forever. The news would come on at night and would list the numbers of all of the people who had died. That’s all there was to watch, just a scroll of the dead until the electricity went out and all of the stations stopped running. I guess it was something nuclear. Mom never would give me a clear answer, she would just mutter something about how people would rather hate one another than live. I don’t blame her for being vague, she didn’t know what this would turn into.
By Samantha Slomin5 years ago in Fiction
Priceless
I can feel the sweat dripping down my nose. I try to stretch my shoulder to wipe it off, but the weight of the crate in my arms left little slack for such luxuries. In all honesty, even I was surprised at how much I had lugged in from The Wilds. I'm starting to regret trading my shopping cart for a portable stove. Who wants a hot meal in the middle of the damn desert? That's what I get for being cocky, I guess. A few good sales go to my head and I get swindled by The Mad Max equivalent of a used car salesman.
By Meghan Betke5 years ago in Fiction
The Loom
She sat in the dank again, a cellar of unknown origin. She succumbed to the inertia waiting for him. The whole creation she had just spent months weaving and retrieving had grown it’s own wings and taken flight. So she waited for it’s return. A picture, an invitation, a breath of fresh, anything to summon her from the overwhelming stench of this decay.
By Melissa Eaves5 years ago in Fiction
Havel The Vodnik
Every morning just before the sun rose, Danicka's father would gather together his fishing pole, bait, tobacco and the lunch her mother tied together in an old kroj ~ a faded headscarf that her mother had handed down for her. Danicka would run to the door, stand on her tippy-tiptoes and kiss her beloved otec goodbye. She would stand in the doorway waving as he walked down the path through the woods whistling an old Czechoslovakian folk tune, ere he disappeared from sight.
By Juliette McCoy Riitters5 years ago in Fiction
The End of the World Should not be Pretty
Handcuffed and forced to march into the city, I couldn’t help but feel let down by all the books and movies about the end of the world. The apocalypse was not supposed to be pretty. The end of the world was supposed to be gritty, chaotic, and brutal. Where were the gas masks, the piles of rubble, the radiation twisted beasts?
By Katie L. Oswald (BookDragon)5 years ago in Fiction
Kenya Harris
August 27th, 2102 Book 16, Entry 47 I don't know where it came from, but every night it haunts my dreams. I see flashes of fire, destruction and …dragons? I don't understand, but I must continue on. I need to understand what it means. Why can't I remember? She left this to me, almost frantic, making me swear on my very soul that I would never allow anyone else to see it, touch it, or even know about it.
By Crystal "Daisy" Anton5 years ago in Fiction
Like No One Is Watching
“What’s that around your neck?” Dad had come home early. “Dad it’s just-.“ “Just nothin’, boy. Now take that shit off. I’m about to make sure you don’t grow up like one of them men in dresses.” I took off my mother’s locket, her most prized possession, and placed it back in the trunk as gently as possible. It was silver with a ruby heart that was surrounded by tiny diamonds. She looked so beautiful in it. I missed Mom.
By Brandy Enn5 years ago in Fiction
