Dec 05

Ten Days of Winter, 1892

Editor's note: In the 11+ years of this site, I have shared only a couple of things on the belief that this is your site, not mine. But I am sharking this because, well, becaue I thought you might like to read/listen to it and, also, to see that some stories take a long time to develop. I'd love some feedback -- this is your chance! :) 

I wrote this piece of fiction for Winter Tales 2017 and it was presented by Vermont Stage in its shows Dec. 6-10, 2017 at FlynnSpace. (It also was going to be presented at a similar winter story show in East Montpelier on Dec. 16.)

Audio download:
Feb 13

The House

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)
Feb 13

The Pendant

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)

The old iron bell jangles as I step into the familiar shop. I wave to the owner, a kindly old gentleman, who smiles at me as he always does and says hello. He seems to appreciate my visits, even though I don't often buy anything. 

I make my way through a maze of old bookshelves and chairs, paintings, vases and other miscellaneous objects. I know almost all of it by memory and can tell whenever the store has sold something. 
Oct 22
Cyb3r's picture

Roses & Butterflies

She ran through the fields, chasing the blue butterflies and dandelion fluff. It was a beautiful day, and her worries were gone. She glanced upwards at the crystal cobalt sky. Suddenly, a yellow butterfly flew past. She jerked her head toward it, then ran after it, trying to catch it. It led her away, past the fields and right up to the gates of the old rose garden. She stopped short when she saw this place. But slowly, she opened the rusty old gate and stepped inside. The roses were overgrown, and the statue of her mother was dusty. She smiled up at it.
Oct 22

Dæmon Girl

Keep your head down. Don't make eye contact. Stay in the shadows. And never draw attention to yourself. Ever. They tell me that everyday. I hate who I am. I'm a mistake, a creature that wasn't meant to happen. I'm a dæmon, a Shifting Being. One dæmon is born every blue moon, and will create a new era, by either saving or destroying the world. Normally the dæmon is trained by the monks, and worshipped to avoid the dæmon destroying.

Yet I'm a mistake. I have a twin, Zye. He was born, and immediately started shifting. The was a big celebration, for the dæmon had arrived. But then merely minutes later, I was born. Twins are rare in our world. But I was shifting all the while. I wasn't supposed to be a dæmon. Yet here I am. So while Zye is at the temple, trying to find the little switch in his head to start a new era, I wander the streets. An outcast.
Oct 21
zazu's picture

storm girl

A small girl stands in an open field on a clear day. Her dark hair pulled into two long braids down her back. She's wearing a pair of pink cordoroy overalls with a striped T-shirt underneath, and is intently staring at the sky. Her face is turned upwards, while her body holds itself stiff as if waiting for somthing to happen. Suddenly, out of nowere, the sky opens up, and rain brakes loose, the raindrops pelting the little girl's face. But, instead of squealing with pleasure or surprise, or the sound of being frightend, the girl just stands there. More dark clouds roll in with the howl of the wind, as a man comes out onto the back porch. "Summer, come in before the lightning starts," he calls. Summer slowly turns on the spot, her braids flipping in the wind, until they're falling straight out behind her. Her eyes meet the man's and they're filled with anger, as if lightning is snapping inside of them.
Oct 20
zazu's picture


Alice doesn't recognize me—she hasn't recognized me since the accident. The doctors said she would never be the same person again, but I didn't think it would come to her not knowing my name. I'm her daughter. The girl who cried because she was left out at the park and Alice told me that everything would be okay, because it wasn't. I'm the girl who got sick more often than anyone else in my class. Alice would sit beside me and tell me that everything would be okay, because it wasn't. It was just the two of us. It's still the two of us, but now it's different. Alice likes to look at the picture on the mantle—my picture—and whisper "Autumn." "That's my name," I tell her, only because I'm hopeful. She stares at me blankly and shakes her head slowly. "No, you are Julia." That's my aunt. I feel the tears that want to come, burning behind my eyes. Don't cry. Not now. Alice wanders over to the pantry. She's not hungry. She's just organizing.
Oct 19

Just Breathe


    Keep your head down.

    Eyes steadily on the ground.

    Don't look at them.

    Pace yourself.

    They don't know you.

    They don't accept you.

    I walk through the crowd repeating those words through my mind. Let them think your a creature, a monster even. They don't have your sharp horns, the ones that curl back. They don't have the crimson eye that represents the fire burning in your soul. They don't understand the frozen eye relishing the ice through your veins. They are human, and you are not. Some fear you and some worship you.
Oct 19
tobin's picture

I can write this but I have no idea how it feels

I can write this but I have no idea how it feels
It’s 9:30, i’m coming home from a party at my friends house, the road is completely empty. The cop car swings out from the driveway it turns the sirens on and gets right up behind my car. I start to slow down and get to the side of the road. I come to a stop, the cop gets out of the patrol car, I roll down my window, he reaches the side of my car, he starts to ask for my license and registration, then he sees it, the color of my skin. I hand him my license and registration and try not to think about the face he made when he saw the color of my skin.
The cop takes my license and registration. He goes back to the patrol car. Even though it is thirty five degrees out I keep the window down. I don't want to act like I am trying to leave. As I wait in the freezing cold for the cop to write up a ticket, the only thing I can think about is how he looked at me when he saw that I was black.
Oct 19
brose's picture


Friday. Everyone’s favorite day of the week, right? Not for me. Fridays are the worst. Actually, every day is the worst. Besides during the extremely horrid snowy winters, when I don’t have to come outside. When I don’t come outside, they don’t see me. The moment the three-inches of snow that sits on all the front lawns of homes of our little town in Maine starts to melt, the moment anyone is able to walk out to the dock at the end of the street and dip their feet in the water without getting their toes nearly frozen off, the moment anyone is able to step outside, they see me. They scream. Little kids, as I walk down the street just to get a scoop of ice cream, crying, clinging onto their mother’s legs, cramming their tiny faces into their father’s stomachs. Teenagers, running inside, pretending their mothers called them for dinner.
Oct 19

The Jump

The Jump
My feet crunched the snow as my thick boots led me toward the hill. It was mid-winter, a warmer day than most, and the tramping was making my forehead sweat. My friend Clementine was ahead of me, my short legs and puffy snowsuit weighing me down-and slowing me down. Finally, I reached the top of the hill. I sat down, not caring if my butt got wet or not. Mindlessly, my mittens picked up a ball of snow and packed it evenly. This was the best packing snow of the winter. It was the perfect mixture of wet and fluffy, a combination rare at least to Vermont. Judson, another friend, was thinking the same thing.
Oct 19
brose's picture

Insecure Monster

Dear Diary,

My sacred job has been passed down from generation to generation, and our job is no fun. There is no backing out of it, however, because if it wasn’t for us, you would still have a voice like a 5-year-old girl. Oddly enough, everyone hates me for it! No one likes having me around, people just hate me for the way I am, which is TOTALLY unfair! I need to make a living somehow! So what if I add some hair where I’m not supposed to? So what if I ruin your face?

Oh, I guess I should introduce myself.

Hi! My name is Puberty! Okay, Please don’t put my diary down yet! Just wait until I tell you a little bit about myself! Sound good? Since I’m writing this down I don’t know your reply, but I hope you are still reading.
Oct 19
Gyury the Destroyer's picture

The Creature

The Creature
    I’m a monster, or at least that’s what I’ve been told, but I’m not a monster I’m just...different. While most people have hands, I have claws, while most people speak, I can only growl and roar. Other people only grow two sets of teeth in there life, I have several rows of them. Sometimes I think “Am I really a monster? If not, why do people treat me like one?” I like to think that I’m just misunderstood.
Oct 19


            “I think you should let them see you,” my mother said quietly in my ear as she pushed me, wrapped in a puff of layers, out the front door. I was six years old.
“Who? Who are they?” I asked her skeptically looking to the yard and the trees and beyond, all riddled with snow. The frost streaked the windows and wood as if a lighter coat of paint had just been left to dry. I watched my footprints indent the thick snow behind.
“Be careful. They might not like that, and they are only here for a short while, so we must respect them.”
She pulled me in close to her and I asked her once more, “Mama. Who is watching us. Why are they here?”
“Just close your eyes and feel,” Mama said.
Oct 19

The Phone Call

She answered the phone with shaking hands.  She knew who it was,  had she not been expecting it?  "Hello" she breathed into the receiver.  
"Nancy Clark," A deep voice said, " You have been notified of this before,  The board has made up their minds.  You will have 3 weeks to pack.  Until further notice you, Nancy Clark, have been evicted from your home.'
She sobbed for hours curled up on the step of her house her house.  It was hers, She couldn't leave.  Couldn't leave. "No" that was Nancy Juniper Clarks last word, for she fell asleep in the cold night.  

Oct 19
lana.W's picture

Mean Makes you Ugly

There's plenty of creatures in Ireland.
But none of them are like me.
Your attitude can getcha damned
But you can't be blamed for being hideous.

I've tried reversing my stepmum's curse.
Everyday, it's just no use.
There's only me that I can blame,
I've no other excuse.

Back when I was a wee young thing,
my stepmum came and said,
"Don't be mean,
it makes you ugly."
And I was
until the end.

The older I got, the more I was mean.
And I got uglier as I got meaner.
​In addition to this, it also destroyed 
my self esteem and demeanor. 

Young children would scream,
as I walked through the park.
Stray cats would look up yowl,
and dogs in the streets could never control
their viscous and hateful bark.

Such a creature like me
deserves just what he got.
He's bereft of a friend.
He's bereft of a lot.
Oct 18
Samara Spelman's picture

10 Rules

     I live by a series of rules. They keep me going, keep me moving on. Each and every rule must be followed precisely. There is no room for error. Each rule I made to protect myself from getting hurt by others. People are ruthless, and it’s necessary for survival to be as ruthless as them. High School takes the life out of you, and you have to adapt to stay somewhat intact. Sometimes the rules get me in trouble, and my reputation isn’t a desirable one, but I do what I need to do to keep myself from making mistakes twice.

     Rule #1: The most important rule of all, never let anyone in. People too close to your heart will always turn on you and break it.

     I can list off all the times I’ve made this mistake. This rule came later on, one of my last additions, and since then, I haven’t broken it. Letting people in makes it hurt all the more when they finally betray you, which is inevitable.
Oct 18
joseph.deffner's picture

The Creature that Wasn't Wanted

Once upon a time there was a creature that lived in Mona Foo Foo. I am that creature. I am a creature, but other creatures call me a monster. I'm not a monster, though; I'm just a blue, white, and gold striped creature that tries to help people out. I try really hard to help, but the other creatures don't want me at Mona Foo Foo except for one creature whose name is Kalabi. Kalabi is my friend. He helps me out when I'm sad and gloomy.
Oct 18
joseph.deffner's picture

Angry Teen Banshee

Oct 18

Creature In The Mirror