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Bad HabitsS.

She always rubs her mouth,
like there’s a secret she can’t say out loud.

Tracing her own lips to prevent a smile, a frown, or a tear.
Sometimes her real smile peeks through, but you can only see it in her squinted almond eyes; dark amber, and soft, just like that bashful grin.
Sometimes a frown shows when no one is looking, followed by a wistful sigh and a simple wipe of the palm across that silent mouth, trying to push the bad feelings and words away.
Sometimes tears roll past her knuckles; she fails to catch them at the source because she’s scared to wipe her eyes raw, so she brushes them away after they’ve fallBad Habits4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

-Paper Stars Notes, Themes + Symbols-4 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

paris and troy When she met him, he had a ring around his finger that he never took off. When she realized it was etched into his skin, ink as permanent as his existence, she asked if he was married. He laughed.
The ink said "Helen," woven into a ring by his knuckle, and he told that Helen was the love of his life. She wanted to be jealous, she wanted to feel resentful, but he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair while he told her the story of Helen, Queen of Mycenaean Sparta, and a love so fierce that Paris fought a war to keep her.
"So many things in life are mediocre," he told her while her fingers traced the tattoo. "Helen reminds me that lovparis and troy1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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 Salutations1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

the butterflyYou sit down in a cornfield a golden ocean surrounds you.
When the wind blows, he creates waves and dishevels your hair.
It smells like summer. It is Julie and the sun burns, the clouds are gone.
The yesterdays rain dried already and so the nature, reborn, after the long winter feels fresh and new.
Birds are twittering.
You smile and stretch your arms as high as you can.
Suddenly something lands on your fingertip.

It is a butterfly!

With a colour like a piece of the sky.
Softly, slowly it moves his wings to tank the heat.
He did just escape his homely safe cocoon and is fragile as a new bourn baby.
You don't dare to breath.

So flawlthe butterfly5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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 Falling20 hours ago in Short Stories

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 ceremonySkylight2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

I’m not like the others. My body doesn’t react well to the treatments the clinics provide. I’m a medical marvel in fact; they haven’t encountered someone whose body absolutely rejected every method before. My parents were devastated. I guess when nobody dies funerals are an even bigger deal. Yeah that’s right, medical technology has advanced to the point where people no longer die. Bodies regenerate and maintain a comfortable appearance of what a twenty-five year old looked like all those hundreds of years ago. Maybe it sounds strange, but it’s what people of this time are accustomed to.

I’m hHeaven5 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

Alone: Chapter 1Alone: Chapter 1

Jimmy's Note: All events that will follow are fictional. The (start of the) story is set in the year 2023.

Name's James, and don't wear it out. Thirty years old, and I am already living the dream. I live in a luxury penthouse that prides itself in having the most splendid view of the New York skyline from its cantilevered deck with sky garden and pool, and a breathtaking view of the ocean from the glass windows that fill one side of my art studio, where I work on some of the grandest architectural projects the world has ever known, some of which include the biggest charity housing complex ever built, some celebrity homes acAlone: Chapter 15 days ago in Introductions & Chapters

Something I thought up, possible story?A young woman stands outside of her home. The living space wasn't much, just a bamboo structure with a couple if rooms and a roof, but that's all anyone had in this timeline.
What year was it, again? Oh yeah, that hasn't been discovered yet.
Or any unit of time for that matter.
It may seem like something that'd be said in the past, right? Well that statement is false. This womans story actually takes place in the future.
Three-hundred-billions years into the future to be exact.
As this girl's story progresses, you will learn of what exactly happened to the world we know today.
But let's start off by introducing this young girl.
Her name is Athena. She was not named after the Greek goddess, for the people of this timeline have knowledge of Greece or any sort if deity.
They only have knowledge of the things that happened before the last generation went extinct. But let's save that for later.
This woman was a bit of a philosopher. She spent her time studying and thinking of the worlSomething I thought up, possible story?1 week ago in Introductions & Chapters

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 SkyHunter14 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 begHaunted14 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 Softly1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Midnight ramblings of an old manThe stars tonight hide behind the clouds. To think I would miss their glow as I do now. Tonight I wonder, had they even existed in the first place? I know that I have seen them for twenty-five thousand days, and their light had never faltered. Now, they were only gone for a night but why is it that I think every single star in the universe were just an illusion, that there were no such entities that burnt, fissioned to produce light and heat? Even the Sun which I cannot see in the dark night sky, one which held us so close and nurtured dearest Earth which in turn nurtured us; us who have been leeching off of our Mother.
What horrible children we are. To use Mother to our advantage through sucking her life blood. Soon enough we might not be able to see our Grandmother through the dust in our eyes. We become cold and shiver in the darkness, again using Mother's blood to keep warm and produce light, to see again and to advance further. Slowly Mother dies, painfully and sadly. Poor old GraMidnight ramblings of an old man5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Incongruity6 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

The Parable of the Small Man Once upon a time, in a peaceful village, there lived a man. He was small of heart and lived by himself. He was not a learned man, only a simple farmer. In this village there also lived a nobleman who had many riches yet was very generous. In his great generosity, he invited the small man to a wondrous banquet.
Now the small man was very doubtful of himself as a person. He thought to himself, “I am but a simple farmer, and I have never been to any banquets, great or small; I would not know how to act in front of this nobleman or his other honored guests.”
As he left his home, he saw the herder of theThe Parable of the Small Man6 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 confusion1 day 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 Roulette2 days ago in Short Stories

The Lone Wolf and the Wayward Rabbit Long since separated from the rest of his pack, a lone wolf was wandering the forest alone. He was scared and helpless out in the cold, unforgiving world. Separated from his old pack, he felt powerless. Sundered. Weak. He needed sustenance, above all else, but also needed some other, less urgent necessities. He wanted desperately to see the faces of his old pack again. Not even a week before this had happened, he found comfort in his pack-brethren. Their voices, and their kind words and thoughts, would give him comfort in even his most dire times. Now, thanks to those very same wolves, he couldn't think about them again without invoking an immobilizing sadness. His silver fur stood on edge, and the very thought of facing the pack again filled him with such contempt. He gave a half-hearted snarl to the air behind him, as if being chased by his inhibitions, and continued pressing through the snow-tinted forest. Small white flakes descended slowly around the entire forest, frThe Lone Wolf and the Wayward Rabbit3 days ago in Short Stories

Pandora's BoxWe all know it. Things happen. People change. Then why are we always surprised? Why do we still get hurt? Even though we know it’s going to happen, we can never seem to prepare ourselves. We can never quite fathom the inevitable. Even though it is, in fact, inevitable. But it can be for the best, most of the time it is. Most of the time.

Most of the time even when it’s happening, even while we are still in pain, we know it is for the best. Because if not, then how else will we cope? How could we possibly cope if we didn’t have hope? If we have no hope, then how could we possible go on with our lives? Hope. We hope that evePandora's Box5 days ago in Short Stories

What I know for Sure: Night of the Shooting Stars

“Hush my child,
Go to sleep.
Watch the sun,
Fall behind the clouds.
Dream a dream,
Into the night.
Let your mind
Take you to places unknown.”

Routine

There’s a routine I go through every day. A routine that is average amongst most teenagers. Wake up, maybe take a shower, get dressed, brush teeth, run fingers through my hair to make it presentable, grab things and toast for breakfast and out the door for school. Most would call it average, I guess.

My name is Toni Michaelson, I’m eighteen and a senior in high school. I’m your average guy, around 6’1”, short black hair, brown eyes. Nothing specialWhat I know for Sure: Night of the Shooting Stars1 week ago in Short Stories

BloodI need blood to spill.

I need it to be my own.

So I can take pleasure in being hurt.

I need the pain. I need the pleasure that comes with it.

I need the blood. I need the agony.

Someone come and grant me my wish.

Someone come and let my blood flow through more than just veins.

Blood must be spilled. Please let it be mine.

I don't care why, I just need to bleed.

I don't know, I don't care why.

Please just set my blood free.Blood1 week ago in Short Stories

MasochismI need pain.

I hate being happy, it is so.... degenerative...

I won't be a mindless smiling zombie.

I'll be different, I'll invite you to hurt me.

I need you to hurt me, it keeps me alive.

So break me, bend me, pull me down to my knees.

I invite hatred and death.

Pestilence and pain.

So tell me....

What's it like to stare in to the eyes of insanity?

Does it scare you?

Does it repulse you? Are you sickened by me?

Look at my masochism. I need pain in and out. SO GIVE IT TO ME!

I'll do everything to provoke your ire.

I must feel suffering again.

I hate being happy.Masochism1 week ago in Short Stories

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