Microfiction
Where the Water Moves One Way and the Truth Moves Another
The river had always flowed uphill, though no one in Bellmere ever said it that way. They said instead that the town was “cleverly engineered,” or that the water simply “knew where it needed to go.” Children were taught in school that Bellmere sat on a rare but perfectly respectable incline that confused outsiders more than locals. On field trip days, Mrs. Carrow would line the class up along the iron railing and point toward the water climbing, slow and patient, toward the distant hills.
By Lawrence Lease28 days ago in Fiction
Marshall's Observations. Runner-Up in Craft Over Catharsis Challenge.
Marshall watched seagulls and crows playing in the wind among pink-tinted cloud beds that slowly turned gray as the sun hung at the sea's horizon. He used his iPhone to focus on the reflections in the water and snapped a photo. He liked the result; it showed a butterscotch sun sitting on the water below a pink cloud, with the ferry in the foreground.
By Andrea Corwin 28 days ago in Fiction
Waiting
Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden, trapped in a tower almost as lonely as her mind. She spent her days longing for companionship and her nights wishing upon the passing falling stars for anybody to come find her. The maiden did not know how she got to the tower, was not sure how long she had been there, and hadn’t the slightest clue how to leave. Days stacked high upon days as she waited and waited for a rescuer.
By Raine Neal29 days ago in Fiction
To love the villain. Content Warning.
Most of us think the best of other people. We look for the goodness in them and expect it in return. And when reality doesn’t live up to that image, we are left heartbroken. Once we fall for that kind of person, that darkness… it’s almost impossible to escape.
By Minou J. Linde29 days ago in Fiction
Past Lives. Content Warning.
War made for odd couples. To Private Jim Mclellan, Sepp seemed a good man; better at least than some of the monsters he heard stories of deeper into the Reich. Real monsters. This Sepp almost reminded Jim of his uncle; the one from Wisconsin he met a few times at Weddings.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Fiction
TCoE: Climb
A scoff erupted from above. "You'll never make it," a man's ragged voice sneered. A twelve-year-old boy with messy dark hair and tan skin pulled his brown eyes from the parchment in his shaking hands. The sharp, resentful words cut his heart, leaving it frozen and gradually draining. The skinny lad was a bit taken aback by the stranger's harshness, but he mentally fought hard to brush it off. After a few moments, the bitter man who taunted the boy removed the hood of his cloak to reveal a scarred face. The man had wrinkly, tanned skin and long, dark hair.
By Mel E. Furnishabout a month ago in Fiction
