Nov 09
22donam's picture

This guy asked me to join his club


"Mate, this guy just asked me yesterday if I wanted to join his club."


"Woah, what'd ya say?"


"Well obviously I asked him what it was about, you know?"


"Don't tell me it was some kinda cult or somethin' freaky like that."


"Geez no, he said it was a book club."


"Oh yeah? Sounds chill."


"And then I asked him if you could come, cause I thought you would love to go."


"Aww that's sweet."


"But then this jerk is like "No way your friend's got issues" 


"UM RUDE"


"I KNOW"


"WHERE IS HE I'M GONNA WHOOP HIS A**"


"DON'T EVEN WORRY MATE I SMACKED HIM ALL THE WAY TO KANSAS"


"Haha oml, thanks for that"


"No problem mate, anyone that's got beef with you has got beef with me"
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.
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:
TenDaysofWinter1892.mp3
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 vermontwritesday.org 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 vermontwritesday.org 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. 
Jan 25
cole.nace's picture

Fear'is Wheel

Walking along the decrepit old pathway leading around the park's old weathered rides and shops, I could only think about how much I didn’t want to come. New Orleans was hot, especially during the summer; it felt like the hottest day of the year, century even. Madelyn padded along, ushering me and Liv up towards the worn and toppled rides in the “cool zone”: doesn’t feel very cool. 

“Couldn’t we have come on a better day,” I groaned. 

“Nothing better than some good sun, don’t you like a good tan line?” Madelyn inquired. 

“I might as well be a great big roast dinner in the oven,” I added sarcastically.

“Better get a plate Liv,” Madelyn and Liv laughed.
Jan 25
fiction challenge: Lifeline
Mae Reincke's picture

The Only Tree I'll Ever See


Rotten. It smells rotten in this city. It has been this way since before I can remember. 

I was born here, in a place where everything is dirty and there is nothing interesting to look at. Mother always told me that was how it is. It’s all she’s ever known too. It’s all anybody in this city knows. Anybody on this planet. 

    My father.

    My brother.

    My cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents.

    They haven’t experienced clean air, or wide open spaces. None of us have. We have all been stuck here, with already used air and factories that burn so much stuff I’ve seen a boy pass out from simply breathing too deeply.

    Everyday I open the phone to check the pollution rate to see if it’s safe to go outside. Sometimes it’s so bad that my mother makes me wear a gas mask. They are distributed throughout each household, one for each family member. 
Jan 24
fiction challenge: Spirit
Georgia_802's picture

A Time Of Despair

I have always been a reckless kid, with an attitude that says "I don't care." I like adventures and having butterflies in my stomach. I am what some would call "adrenaline junky". But my careless and impulsive lifestyle doesn't always make life easy. My parents don't have a lot of faith or trust in me, many whispers behind my back, I lack the ability to express myself without feeling judged, and I often just feel lonely. I try to steer my thoughts away from the dark side of the jungle inside my mind. But one night everything just got too much. I broke down into my pillow, so no one would hear my loud tears. I had my hand over my mouth to muffle the escaping gasps that always manage to be louder than a scream. My eyes were shut tight as if I were trying to hide in my thoughts.
Jan 24
fiction challenge: Spirit
LQL's picture

Me and eM.

A spirit that guards and protects. Something impossible, others say. Whenever I hear that, I just shake my head and laugh because… I’ve been able to see my spirit from when I was born. My spirit’s name is eM. Oh sure, at first it was pretty scary. Seeing a ball of water no larger than my fist floating around me and talking! For goodness sake. Yes, I was scared of the floating, talking water, but more so that I might be delusional. You know, the type of people that others call “lunatics.” I would run away from it during the first few times it appeared. Yes, it just appears whenever it wants to. Gradually, I became less and less afraid. I became more and more curious as to what this ball of floating water was. You might ask, is it always in the form of floating water? Well…no. Sometimes it appears as a young woman, a little girl, an animal, and… an old wiry man with a really long beard. It’s pretty funny. Whenever I get sad, my spirit comes to comfort me.
Jan 24
shipboi's picture

saved


I couldn't stop
I felt dead
I couldn't breath
I stopped
I was dead 
everyone was shocked 
but I was saved by doc octopus
everyone standstill like nothing happened 
I screened not fealing anything
I was saved now
anything I do is stricked
not this time 


 
Jan 24

A Cats Dream

I’m jumping through the streets like a spring! All the other cats in the window look at me as a god. I slink around the fish stand like a mouse and jump up and take a fish. Yum! So good. Suddenly I’m in a jungle! I look down at my paws and see that they are as big as a truck! And I notice I am orange and black. My muscles ripple as I move. When I purr it sounds like a car engine. I run gracefully around the jungle until I find a body of water and lap it up like a vacuum. Suddenly, I jolt awake. I look around and see that I am back in my human’s home, nestled in my bed. 

 
Jan 23
fiction challenge: Spirit
Summit House-WCS's picture

Guardian

Hello darkness my old friend

I woke up abruptly. That was bizarre, I thought to myself, looking around my big but cramped room, full of cookbooks, anthologies, and old game consoles. I sat back in my bed and stared out the window, trying to fall asleep, but also thinking. Thinking about Umma. Is she okay? Is this fantasy of her coming back home ever gonna actually happen?

I rolled over in my bed, pulling the covers over my head. I try not to think about Umma. Not during the day, anyways. It hurts me too much to think about her disappearance 9 years ago. Would a mother really abandon her 2 kids, both at 5 years old? It’s a question I ask myself a lot. After a while, though, I gave up hope. I’m rustled out of my deep thoughts when I hear another voice, this time in Korean.

Are you deaf? I know you can hear me, stop ignoring me.
Jan 21
Treyton Kimball's picture

The Camping Trip



Last summer a few of my friends and I went camping at lake small pond. It was a long drive through dark, eerie woods on windy back roads. We all were super excited but bumed at the same time. The weather wasn't the greatest that night. Thunder roared through the air and lightning lit up the dark eerie sky as if ten thousand floodlights shone directly into your eyes. One of my friends' names was billy. He was terrified of lightning because when he was a kid his house was struck by lightning and caught fire. Well, he was still inside, and he has never been able to get over what happened. The other friends with us were Stefani and Steven. Steven has been my best friend since we were kids, and we've done everything together. We both come to this lake every summer. And Stefani is good friends with Billy and he wanted to bring her along this year.
Jan 21
Treyton Kimball's picture

The amusement park

Last Friday we went to explore the abandoned amusement park in our city. Due to the number of deaths from the dangerous rides the park had been closed down and forgotten about. The owners didn't want to pay to fix the rides, so they left the country. Now we're left with a decaying amusement park. We walked around the park to try to find an entrance to the park.
“Hey, there's a hole in the fence!” I shouted.
“Let's go, I thought we were gonna be able to get in,” Eric shouted back. 

    

I crawled through the hole first And once I got through I stood up and admired the view of all the once-running park rides. It was crazy to think that this was once a popular place where people used to gather.

    I looked back to see Eric struggling to crawl through the small hole in the fence. 
“Come on, Eric, it's not that hard,” I said, bursting into laughter.
Jan 21
fiction challenge: Spirit
Summit House-WCS's picture

Never really alone

By Romae Martone

If I had a spirit, I think it would take form as a little girl, a younger me, if you will. A ghost of what I used to be, the younger me that had dreams of being a queen or a dancer.

She would follow me all of my life to see what we have become; she doesn't talk, just gives me judgmental glares or slight nods. Never giving too much away.

I like that she is always there, making sure we still make snow angels in the winter and eat too much ice cream in the summer. Because just because I have gotten older doesn't mean that I have to abandon the child I used to be. I can still be her at times. Just because I have grown up slightly doesn't mean that I have to succumb to the idea that I can’t be a kid anymore.
Jan 21
fiction challenge: Follow
jl.carlson928's picture

Stranger Danger

I was relieved when the school bell rang. I had been puzzled all day over what my grandmother had said to me this morning. ‘I have a surprise for you after school today. It will surely be a thriller.’ After that she chuckled to herself. 

“Want to walk down the sidewalk together Ires?” My friend Maddy asked, walking over to my desk. Maddy and I had been best friends since kindergarten. 

“But of course.” I said in a British accent. That made her laugh. I took it upon myself to make Maddy laugh. Her home life was tough and I felt bad. It made me feel better to be of some help. 

“Well let’s get going, my grandmother is waiting for me.” I said. When we opened the exit door a blast of warm air hit us. It was nearly summer. Only a month left of school. 
Jan 21
fiction challenge: Follow

The Story with No Meaning

Just another boring day at the park I thought. My friend, Alex and I were just playing street hockey when this weird lady who looked like those old witches that you see in movies walked up to me. She handed me a paper that said follow me. I asked her where we were going but she just kept walking and ignoring everything I said. Alex and I started walking and we decided to follow her. We were curious and wanted to find out what was out there.

Before I knew it, we were in the dark woods. I looked at my watch and it was already midnight! How did the time go by so quickly? My friend and I would have missed hockey practice for sure. When I looked at the lady, she was gone and we were stuck in the middle of the woods. I looked at my friend and when I turned back, I was at my house. How I thought? Now I was so confused because we were in a jail  in separate jail cells. HOW? I said. This is impossible.  I must be dreaming…
Jan 19

To Find What is Through The Haze (part one)

       The house was empty when I woke up, it always is. Everyone’s busy, they haven't bothered to say good morning to me. Not that I expected any difference, although it's only 6:00. I drag myself out of bed, my shift starts soon. I put on a white t-shirt and jeans. My fingers get covered with rings and necklaces decorate my chest. My hair is shoved under a hat, the logo “Steve’s Diner” written across the front. Coffee’s made, a bagel in and out of the toaster oven. I hurry out the door, shoving shoes on my feet. With one half of the bagel in my mouth, the other in my left hand, I yank open the door. Feet fly downstairs, skipping the fifth one, the repairmen haven't fixed it yet. I unlock the front door, passing by the back door for mom’s shop. I peer inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but nothing. I note an umbrella by the door. Black, sleek, it's not raining. 
    Why would you..? My watch beeps. 
Jan 19
Natalia's picture

The crazy Man




She held aside the large leafed shrubs and saw a large blue and yellow parrot fly across the scene. It was not until the bird had flown off into the tree tops when Sadie noticed it.

    There was a waterfall with a foggy mist at the bottom. With deep gray rocks jutting out of the damp soil. With no warning at all she felt hands reach for her waist and pull her back into the shrubs. 

     “Eek who are you!?” she screamed.
The man was wearing baggy ripped up clothes and he never blinked throughout the conversation

     “Shhh I’m here to help you. Stop moving. This is all a allusion they are trying to capsure you and make you become a slave!” he said in a hushed whisper. 

      “Pfft! Please, you're crazy. I'm just looking for my brother, who said he was lost in the woods. There were these kind grandparents who were feeding — oh.” said Saidie.
Jan 18
fiction challenge: Spirit
Summit House-WCS's picture

We, I

If I had a spirit that watches over me, how would this spirit be? This spirit would be myself, a fluid self, a bit smarter self, but neither the less, myself. They look like me, act like me, think like me since I'm them and they are me. I can't see or hear them outside, and because of that, it’s a struggle to communicate with them.

But they find their own ways to help me. They are the voices in my head that tell me to not do something stupid. They help me apprehend things by making me fixate on small things to get the bigger picture. 

They’re the gut feeling I get to tell me something is wrong. And although they are the reasons I live and survive, they are also the reason I weep and stress.

They can be degrading and tell me that everyone is staring and judging, how no one really cares, how everything is not worth it for me.