Series
Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 22
I drive out of Banff and back into the national park. If the circumstances were any different, I would love this drive. The road is empty and the surroundings are beautiful. Stretches of forest, covered in snow, surrounded by frosted mountain peaks. But, I can’t think about any of that. All that I can think about is that somewhere, possibly in this snow-covered scenery, is my baby.
By Megan Clancy5 years ago in Fiction
Chrome Xanadu #27: John's Descent/ Rebirth
Preface: He only wanted to find that mental place again, years and years built up of effort wasted a newly realized phobia. In this futuristic dystopia, only the rules of where the atmosphere spread from could attone for collapsing metal behemoths juxtaposed with overgrown grass and scattered remnants of artifacts. The desolate landscape resembled a meat locker of chrome. Sentimental keepsakes are illegal. The year is 2023.
By Ryan barton5 years ago in Fiction
Misshapen Heart
April 20th, 2025 I don't know why I've always felt that my locket, though still so precious to me, is misshapen. After all, for it even to exist in this world is miraculous. It alone brings me comfort, after having missed out on heaven completely. I still can't believe all that's happened, and especially that Jason was right about so much of it. Now he's dead, and the city's gone; damn this life!
By Taktis of Peace5 years ago in Fiction
Episode #13 Fallen into a Dark and Musty Tunnel!
Panic is raising in your voice, "Jordan! Where the hell are you!" "Stop freaking out already! I’m right here behind you. I don’t have a clue where we are. It kind of looks like a tunnel don’t you think.” Jordan grabs her flashlight, turns it on and starts walking. “It does, doesn’t it. Let’s go check it out.”
By Susan McGill5 years ago in Fiction
The Next Death
I stare out of the window, watching the black-coated world fly by. In the window, I could see my reflection. My bright hazel eyes, freckled nose and cheeks, short, wavy black hair, high cheekbones, and well-defined facial features that all had a ghostly appearance in the reflection.
By Katarzyna Crevan5 years ago in Fiction
Book Of Ancestors
Today would have been my grandmother's birthday. It has been a year since she passed away and a year since this journey began. I always remember her on her birthday. I remember how frail she was, and how strongly she loved me. I also remember the stories she used to tell me. Grandma would always start her stories by saying “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with a whimper” she claimed these were famous words by a man named T.S Eliot but I never understood how she knew these words. After saying these words she would start to tell me stories of the world being overpopulated, cities booming and packed with life and how slowly and quietly the world lost all of its knowledge. She would talk about buying food in large market buildings. This is how I knew she was getting senile, I had been down to those markets and there was never food there only death waiting in the shadows of those tall buildings. The world she talked about only lived in her imagination or at least I thought so until today.
By Jason Dilan5 years ago in Fiction
Argonauts of Summer
Chapter One: Southern Fireflies Summertime in the south was a sight everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. The heat during the day, the cool thick breeze during the night, and the answers to all life's great mysteries… if you were lucky.
By Drew Perkins5 years ago in Fiction
Annalise, The Archangel, and The Emerald Locket
Annalise tossed and turned in the night as she dreamed of how life once was cruising down an old country road of Northwest Georgia with her parents and two younger brothers. The windows were down, the warm summer wind was blowing her dishwater blond hair in her face. They sang silly songs and played various driving games on their way to the Chickamauga Chattanooga National Military Park to watch the whitetail deer come out for their evening graze. Her family had this outing every Sunday for as long as she could remember.
By Paul whiddon 5 years ago in Fiction
