Short Story

Desolate
Dear Diary, Silence. The silence is golden. For days, the screams had echoed, tore at our eardrums. Blood had caked the ground, patches dotting flowers and tufts of grass. Red sprayed across trunks of trees and car horns blared, abandoned in their owners haste to get away. Traffic had ensued and blocked the cars. The only way out was to either wait or run.
By Kristy Perkins5 years ago in Fiction
The Girl with the Last Strain
The valley around the girl is a stage with no actors. She stands alone, dressed in a ratty, moth-eaten sundress and a hood the color of flint over it. Her hair is long and matted with grease, but still, she ties it up in a bun to stop it from webbing across her face.
By Briar Esterline 5 years ago in Fiction
You Guys Are Out Of Here!
I ran like crazy to escape the wall of flames. My fellow firefighters had long ago become blackened corpses. There was a cave in the canyon wall ahead, I squeezed out a superhuman burst of adrenaline and barely made it, diving into the entrance and landing on my belly before the air filled with white hot flames and orange sparks. As I lay face down on the slimy floor, I thought of the billionaires with their private bunkers deep in earth’s bowels. What did they do down there?
By Gary Cox5 years ago in Fiction
Heart-shaped Hopelessness
Heart-shaped Hopelessness Nothing but ash. Can’t breathe. Can’t see. What was once a beautiful, thriving city, is now a barren wasteland. It’s been two years, 121 days, and this morning. How we’ve survived, I’ll never know. Lying on this cold concrete deep inside the inner-city water drainage system is the only place to call home. Hearing the soft breathing and whimsical, dream-filled whispers of Aaron and Joan lulls me into deep thought about what the day holds. So much to do and not much time to get everything accomplished. I am by no means “mom material”, but since the warheads hit, my youth had been stripped away; now my primary focus were my younger brother and sister’s future. The sun is just now breaking dawn and I must make a food and supply run while the ash-filled smog is at its thinnest.
By Katie Foster5 years ago in Fiction
One Spring Day in May
The blade of the shovel cut through the dirt, releasing the scent of loamy earth into the air. She always loved the springtime, when the trees grew lush with verdant leaves, and the flowers bloomed in shades of red and pink. The air was sweeter, warmer, and provided relief from the cold harshness of winter. But this spring was different. The weight of what she had to do hung in the air like cigarette smoke and made her chest hurt just as badly.
By Michael Wirth5 years ago in Fiction
Endings
Hope often reveals itself in small statements, spoken hesitantly in dark hours, through constricted throats. Deep in The Alps a loop was formed. As man imitated God, the smallest components of life struck together and everything changed. The world became barren, dusty, dry. Not quickly. All of the warning signs willfully ignored. Perhaps that unkind, it’s possible that it was unwilful in some cases.
By Hannah Gibney5 years ago in Fiction
The Craving
This could not wait till morning. The craving came on so sudden and intense that resisting never even crossed her mind. For some reason Claudia needed fudge. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was the fact that she finally had an appetite. But she needed fudge. Not the kind she usually made this time of year, melting chocolate chips in the microwave. Claudia needed the heavy, silky fudge her grandma used to make—the kind you made in a saucepan with a candy thermometer.
By Muhammad iqbal5 years ago in Fiction
Sixth Grade
The sun peered through her basement window and illuminated the twin-sized bed where Frankie slept. As her consciousness slowly surfaced, she clung to the images swirling behind her eyes: thick tree trunks, an underground bunker, and a folded piece of parchment. Was it a map? Noticing a chill crawl up her bare arms, Frankie instinctively felt around for cover. Her fingers found her bedsheet bunched around her feet and pulled it up over her head. When she turned her attention back towards the dream, she realized it was no longer in reach.
By Paige Benson5 years ago in Fiction
My Friend Death
Everyone on this planet they call Earth is afraid of one thing above all else. Falling from the sky, dogs, physical contact, being social, but all of that is trumped by death. I see it differently, death is beautiful and that’s why I befriended him. When I was seven my Mother was taken from me in a car accident (broken neck and ruptured spleen). That’s where I seen him the first time, taking my mom away. We talked about life, his job and me. This sparked my interest in the power of being forward and ripping away a life. By ten with Death’s help I had killed multiple animals. Dissecting them, stitching them up and bringing them “Back to life”. I wondered why they didn’t move the same when I gave the life back. He explained to me how souls work and how energy cannot just randomly be created even if the heart transplant is a success. That next year my Father was murdered. Caught in gang violence he had become the middle man between them. He was hit in the middle of a crosswalk breaking both knees and projecting him thirty feet. The flight left him with shattered ribs, a punctured lung and road rash on his arms, legs, and back. They just left him there bleeding out and it was another six hours before police arrived on the scene.
By Tetrenius5 years ago in Fiction
On Second Thought
Roger was rarely given a second thought. For the most part, Roger liked it that way. In his mid-fifties, medium height, medium build, Roger was very much an average man. Clean-shaven, brown-eyed, and hair trimmed close, nothing about Roger really stood out. Sure, he’d developed a little paunch over the years, but all in all, Roger was quite unremarkable.
By Stu E5 years ago in Fiction
Death Rot
My breath came in gasps as I ran. I could feel the creatures' breath on my neck. This was going to be my end…and it all started with a locket. Oh God how I wish I had never come across the bloody thing! It was both a blessing, and a curse. It’s what set all of the current events in motion. I still remember as if it was yesterday….
By Trisha Escamilla5 years ago in Fiction
Freedom is tied with you
“Do you love me?” the silence after those words resonated deep down to my heart and it shattered like glass breaking from a high note. Inimical was the silence. I looked at him with eyes that have never doubted his feelings but now these eyes want more than simple feelings. Love is intricately fragile. I began to ruminate about my love, the feeling was something which was heavy now, usually it wasn’t a burden.
By Gregory Salvador5 years ago in Fiction