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Till death do us part"till death do us part"

Once upon a time there was a young girl standing under a tree with a frayed old noose hanging from a gnarled leafless branch. She had her grandfathers pocket knife in her hand, chips of wood scattered on the muddy ground. She stared blankly at the carved out heart with a whole in it. "When I find him...or her...them...its 2013 I'm open mined...I will return to this place and make my heart whole" she said to the mangled old tree.

Many years passed, filled with studies and travels, each year returning to that old tree marking off a line for each year her heart remained unfulfilled. On her return home from her yearly riTill death do us part2 days ago in Short Stories

Summer SalutationsEyes open, blooming flowers as the sun sets the sky on fire and burns away all traces of that damp, grey, world caught in between yesterday's end and today's beginning.

Shout with joy all you that are green and growing, all who shake off with gladness your pale night's wrappings and raise your selves in the most ancient salute to the beginning of long days of light and life.

Send skywards your tears, your cold nightly sweat, the sticky beads of dew still clinging to your outstretched hands, reminding you of the dead world before and keeping the hot light from pouring into your eager cupped palms and dancing across your starving skin. Let itSummer Salutations2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

It’s shocking how long the man went without sunlight. He lived in the box, and never saw a light before.

The others thought he was a sad man. They wanted him in the sunshine. They wanted him to have fresh air. They wanted him to live life with everyone else. They held protests, picketing all the major establishments, forgetting the slightly more pressing issues at the moment. After all, they might not be able to solve world hunger, or world peace, but maybe they could open that world to someone else.

It took three years, but finally, the proper authorities broke down and agreed to let the man outside that box. There was a huge ceremonySkylight3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

Falling I’m falling. Falling. Falling.
“What are you doing?”
I turn around. You are there. Wasn’t I falling?
You ask again, “what are you doing?”
I look up at you and tilt my head slightly, furrowing my eyebrows. I answer, “I… don’t know.”
You stand there. You crossed your arms and sighed deeply. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” You ask.
I just stand there, staring at you. I suddenly feel a pain in my chest and look down. I move my hand slowly up to grip it. I feel it pounding. “It hurts,” I say softly. I look back up at you. “Why Falling1 day ago in Short Stories

SkyHunterLet me get one thing out of the way right now.

I do not have a latex fetish.

Or a rubber fetish, or a vinyl fetish. Nothing like that. I had a girl ask me that the other day. I was working, bagging groceries at this little store on Beacon. She noticed my yellow-white gloves and she asked me did I have a fetish for latex. I blinked, and told her no, I didn’t, it was because of a condition. She told me that it was okay if I called it a condition, that other people liked it too and that it was a normal part of being human. She then told me that she was more of a bondage person.

Her mother’s face ran scarlet.

There were days when SkyHunter21 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Haunted"I'm sorry," she says softly. The sky is black above, speckled and marred by the bright scattered peaks of stars. An empty field stretches out from her on all sides, grass swaying softly back and forth in the breeze. The horizon is a flat plane in the distance.
She's all alone, but she doesn't feel like she is. She can feel the spirits all around her, filling up the field and then reaching up into the sky. She can hear their voices, quiet and stuttered as they are.
"--John? John, where--"
"--I just need to tell her--"
"--have you seen--"
"--Alice, can you hear me? Can you--"
All of them are looking for someone; a child, a lover, a friend.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs to them once more. "I didn't mean to bring you back. I thought it would be better for you this way."
They can't hear her.
She covers her face in her hands, weeping for the lost souls she pulled back from death.
"--I just want to see her--"
"--Is anyone here?! I can't--"
"--where are they--"
The girl begHaunted21 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

But Softly1.
I am an artist.
I feel the need to create.
I explore the feeling.
2.
Yet creation is impossible. The colors splashed onto a canvas are but colors; they need to be saturated, pumped with the essence of something.
Words do not add the necessary element. They only waste ink and space. They are clutter.
Even sounds and motion and dance do not breathe anything more than dimensions. How can these things ever become more than the
sluggishly industrious blood of the artist? How can they become thoughts, ideas, suspended but flapping dusty wings
gently, how can art be more than residue?
3.
I bleed.
Images, material, sex, honesty, tears, purgative, travel, touch, music, struggle, nature, fear, depression, consumption, money, rags, paint,
libraries, machines, schooling, riskBut Softly2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Visionary-CreepypastaI'm a visionary, you see. My ideas will save the world from an enemy, such a foul and lecherous breed. You can't even fathom the madness and depravity of these creatures... Well, I'm going off on a tangent, allow me to explain before you ignore me like all the other doomed fools.

Although they wear the mask of a civilised man, make no mistake, they are monsters born from your worst nightmares. They'll look at, no, they'll analyse you with their beady little rat eyes whilst they claw at your skin with their gnarled talons. They really are barbaric little parasites that root themselves into our society like a blasted weed, and they stick theirVisionary-Creepypasta3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

My soul, my confusionI hate feeling emotion.

It hurts, it kills....

It heals, it forgives...

It makes mistakes, it acts foolish...

This soul that controls me.

Take it away. I hate it.

I want to be a husk, with no love or emotion.

If it means getting rid of this pain I'll make the ultimate sacrifice.

But no, I want to live, to love.

I want to feel good emotion alone.

So what do I get rid off?

Something has to go, either me or them. But I couldn't do that.

I couldn't live with blood on my hands, with death in my heart.My soul, my confusion2 days ago in Short Stories

Russian RouletteRussian Roulette
It happens like this-- a rich man reaches middle age. He has billions of dollars, and has done everything he has ever wanted to do in life. And, quite frankly... he's bored. But he's also a sadist. His wife and kids had absconded for that reason. He lives all alone, in his multimillion dollar mansion. He owns a business, and he uses his resources to pick out three very submissive people to play a game. He names himself Mr. Anonymous. Nobody knows that he is their boss. He sends each of the three people a package, containing a revolver, a bullet, and an audio tape describing the details of this game. His conditions are that eRussian Roulette3 days ago in Short Stories

Yu-Gi-Oh New Legends Chapter 35. Beach Time!Last time on yu-gi-oh new legends, Everyone had taken the chance they had and decided to use the time they now have to un-wind and relax some after the event's of the tournament. After Allen had left with the RV and the other's finding a new place to stay at temporarily at a motel, The girl's had gone to get new swimsuit's while Matt and the guy's went to get a camera. What'll happen next with Rachel and the other's? The answer's are here and now.

After helping Matt find (or rather forced to find) a new camera for him to use, Matt sent a text on his cell phone to Rachel and Sarah letting them know the guy's would be at the beach waiting for Yu-Gi-Oh New Legends Chapter 35. Beach Time!2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

Timemare“I’ll start with a knight.”
“I’ll go with a bishop then.”
“And now for the pawn.”
“In the end, aren’t they all?”
Quiet chuckling from both parties.

The setting sun highlighted the sky with colors that don’t exist. The plot of earth a thousand meters below bustled with life, if it can be called that. Here today, dead tomorrow. As with all reality.
The skyscraper overlooked the city. A city of a thousand names, from a thousand eras. It suited her, she who stood at the top of the skyscraper. A figure that could not be described, an impossible voice, and sorrow inexplicable.Timemare20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Momentum"today I just want to be a housewife. I guess somewhere in the French Province. My only worries are to look pretty and prepare a nice tasty dinner when he comes back home. While I can hear him approaching the entrance door, I am sitting at the balcony's window with a glass of wine, red wine, smelling the breeze. "I am back!" He shouted after he entered. I smiled. I knew he reached before his actual shout. He smiled. He knew I am at the balcony waiting for the sound of his keys. And so the day became wonderful. We both knew. Yet, those unspoken thoughts, the unspoken knowledge, triggered this unspoken wonder."Momentum1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

EventuallyIn the cruelty of time, memories lost to the emptiness of the ever stretching void are the unmistakable whispers of weeping. A child runs through the marbled corridor, tears streaming down her face as she runs without hesitation, not checking to see where she was heading. The thunder storms gather, the last bellowing of battle drums before the great plunge in to the dance of war. Lightning strikes the cold earth sparking vicious fires and shrouds of ash and smoke. Lungs begin to shrink, the very oxygen becoming sparser and sparser as carbon dioxide envelops the atmosphere, coating the once blue sky in misty red pigment. Volcanoes tower above Eventually2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

I wish I were a writer.I wish I were a writer.
Transcendent rosy moonlight would fall from my lips. Not this damned spew of blue ink and charred feathers. I'll carry my sticks through with me. They're all I have. Each one knotted and scarred with my twisted melancholy memories. A starving artist, penniless poet. No chance. I remember the time I opened the gilt gold cage. I have no desire for birds, but birds desire the wind the clouds desire birds. They laugh as the clouds fail to catch them. The fat ruby stared, starred, crusted. All I need is the night, sat dulcet on a frosty park bench, the glittering of morn guiding my hands to weave dusky, fine yarns of wordsI wish I were a writer.2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Stars(Passing as Sane)--Part 1Book One in the Nothing is Sound Series. Based on "Stars" by Switchfoot

"Maybe I've been the problem,

Maybe I'm the one to blame,

but even when I turn it off,

and blame myself,

the outcome feels the same."

"It takes a lot more than a breakup to drive a girl out of a precious thing like her sanity. So no, it wasn't because of something like that, mind you---no, it was...more. Most girls like me who end up here cut because of heartbreak, loss, or rejection; Sometimes because they want to look 'cool', or it makes them 'feel good'(that's the cases when they never even HAD thier sanity...). But my scars aren't something that one should look Stars(Passing as Sane)--Part 11 hour ago in Short Stories

Jeff the killer a love story chpt 2I woke up panting I went to the bathroom I was myself again I had my rainbow hair you know black white pink and blue.i looked in my aqua eyes.zack came in with that look in his eyes again he was drunk I ran out the other end of the bathroom.zack was the only one home I ran to the clouset.i hid and he left I ran out the door and ran down the street my dress waving it was above my knees my sneakers pounding the dimly lit side walk.i was grabbed in a ally and was raved it was horrible I was curled up I was lifted up and I blacked out I woke up my stuff was in the room and I looked to my right and....Jeff the killer a love story chpt 221 hours ago in Short Stories

30I don't like people who think they're smart.
I like people who show me what they are, and then let me figure it out. As opposed to people who tell me what they are and don't do much of anything interesting.301 day ago in Short Stories

The Cheetah and the Jackal: a Fable

The Cheetah and the Jackal: a Fable

Once upon a time, there was a Jackal who was very fast at running. He was the fastest animal around and everyone knew it.

One day, news of a faster animal had reached the Jackal. It was said that the Cheetah was even faster than the Jackal. The Jackal was mad. He had been the fastest animal for far too long to give up the post this easily to another animal, in fact, one he had never even met!

The disgruntled Jackal said to himself, “I am the fastest animal, not the Cheetah. I must find him and challenge him to a race where I will beat him. Then all the animals wiThe Cheetah and the Jackal: a Fable1 day ago in Short Stories

Hate is but a word...Hate is but a word. It is used like the oxygen we breathe. Yet it is not taken in to its roots just as air is not missed until its absence from within the body. The word is not simply what we view it as, a word, an emotion... It is an entity, condemning the living, entangling and snaring the soul into solitude. Hate is an embodiment of twisted fate. A love forever banished, a relationship eternally unbound. It is the sharpest of daggers, yet, the dullest if blades. The hardest truth, but the firmest lie. This is not a word, but a shackle of eternity, chewing through that which is sacred and leaving solitude and sorrow in its wake. Hate is eHate is but a word...2 days ago in Short Stories

Letter to the BulliesDear Bullies,

Why do you make me feel insecure Why must you put others down just so you can feel better about yourself?

Why do you get joy from making me... Cry?

Do you find if funny?

Do you need a friend? Perhaps if you'd ask me, I'd be your friend.

Even though you torment me, I'll be here for you when you need a hug when no one else is around.

Eventually people are going to see that it doesn't matter what you guys say about us,
they'll start seeing themselves far better than the way you make them feel.

And maybe one day you'll start seeing yourself as others see themselLetter to the Bullies2 days ago in Short Stories

AnxietyAm I wrong? Am I the hypocrite?

Did I bring all of this on to myself? Did I ask for all of this?

I can't even control my thoughts. Originally I could aim my hate at them, but it's coming back around and the anxiety tears at my heart.

It tears at my soul, my very being.

I don't want to feel anymore! If I feel emotion I can feel hurt! I don't want to be wounded! Please, take away my emotion!

I can't go on like this! I can't go on screaming for something to come take my soul.

I don't want to feel! I want to be a husk!

No I don't! I want to live!

WHY CAN'T I MAKE UP MY DAMN MIND!? Why am I so anxious!?

Who made me this way!? Why!? Who amAnxiety2 days ago in Short Stories

The Speaker began to tell a joke to the Listener. With a faint smile born of the expectations of the outcome, the Speaker began. The Listener, hands folded politely in its lap, focused on the charming words beginning to flutter in the air. The Speaker swayed its speech back and forward, over and under, and in between to tell its jester’s tale. The Listener, seemingly amused, leaned forward to capture the mirth. As the Speaker continued, its words began to meander and reoccur, thinning the humor and diluting the atmosphere. The Listener leaned back and relaxed its face, growing disinterested in the joke. Witnessing itself, the Speaker grThe Joke3 days ago in Short Stories

The Village of the Sane I once came upon a village that was sane. Completely and utterly sane. So sane that it was maddening. They went through their lives as any ordinary town would. They went to the library, to the post office, the coffee shop, the doctors office and like all good Christians they went to church. Granted when I first arrived I felt that something was off with them. Later I did realize that realize that it was I. You see for most of my life I was insane and I admit it openly. I was very mad. The prime example of lunacy. I was so mad that it seemed like I was in my right state of mind. Which of course I wasn’t.
I had come upon thisThe Village of the Sane3 days ago in Short Stories

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