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" 





"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:
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. 
Mar 31
fiction challenge: Waves

An Extended Vacation

It started as a quick flight for vacation. I guess you could say the vacation was extended... by 3 years. I'd say 1095 days. I  counted every single one as it dragged by. Some treacherous and painful, some slow and boring. Eating fish, crabs, coconuts, and on a good day some shark meat. It was day 1095 when I finally built up the courage. I pushed the raft out to the water and got on it. I almost didn't want to go. I'd made a home of it, but on the other hand couldn't wait to take a hot shower, shave, have a good meal, and talk to real people. I hoped the airplane's emergency raft would hold up to the rough waters. Paddling for what felt like an eternity wore me out quite quickly so I took a break. THe air was cold and sharp. The smell of salt surrounded me. No land in sight. It was time for another night of restless sleep. I got comfortable. Well… about as comfortable as one can get on an inflatable raft rocking on the ocean waves. I awoke abruptly as the raft began to tip.
Mar 28
brooksie's picture


I'm excited to watch the snow melt and turn into water that the ground can't keep in and watching it turn into a coffee-colored, slime and guppy mess that makes everything brown and stunning everything that touches it. Watching the whole environment change from lifelessness and turn into liveliness 
Mar 27
fiction challenge: Waves
Olive_tree's picture


     It was almost calming, lying in a little wooden boat floating in the middle of the ocean. The boat was only big enough for me to lie in, and the waves were little, gently pushing the boat forward. To where? I did not know.
    The sight of the ocean surrounded me on all sides; I couldn’t see even the slightest shape of land in the distance. The clear blue sky allowed warm sunlight to shine down on me, casting a warm glow on my surroundings. Perhaps it was the quiet and calming sloshing from the waves or the comforting silence, I felt as if I had no worries in this world. 
    A splash from my right had me up in an instant. My sudden movement made the boat rock, but not enough to make me fall into the water. My eyes carefully surveyed the blue-green water, attempting to catch whatever had made that noise.
Mar 27

A tattered book

The room was cold and dark with broken furniture randomly scattered about. There was a pedestal in the midst of it all seemingly standing undisturbed. Atop it a tattered book. The cover read ¨The Lives¨. I opened it and began to read the first page the words seemed almost illusionary   ¨҉ ҉T҉H҉E҉R҉E҉ ҉A҉R҉E҉ ҉N҉O҉ ҉S҉E҉C҉R҉E҉T҉S҉ ҉W҉I҉T҉H҉H҉E҉L҉D҉¨҉  . I wasn't sure what it meant but I read on. The next page seemed to start the story but instead of the usual chapter 1 it read ¨Life One Arram¨ My reading was interrupted by a man's voice shouting from outside ¨Just give us the book John. Give us the book and you can go¨  My eyes scanned the room for an exit or a way out. I ran for the back door tripping over a rug that uncovered a small wooden door. Panicking, I hesitated before opening the door and climbing inside. The room was lit by a dim lantern hanging from a hook in the middle of the room. I searched around for some sort of weapon.

Mar 27
trexchkidd's picture

the storm

Once upon a time there was this small town and there was a big storm coming and there was this boy in his room sleeping hugging his teddy bear then a few moments later  Snap, crackle, pop then the boy woke up then there was a storm coming in so the boy ran to his parents room and told them there's a big storm coming in and there is going to be a big flood. His mom and dad said what do you mean by big flood?" The boy said Flood is like an implacability, because it does not have mercy, we lose everything!! 
Mar 27
fiction challenge: Waves
Caleb Crossett's picture


I wake up; the thoroughly aged white rowboat adopted by The Twilight, tasked only with being an emergency lifeboat, swaying and bobbing over the docile waves of the midday Pacific Ocean. The distinct salty aroma of the ocean falls over my nose. The slim, hard, uncomfortable, wooden floor of the canoe shaped rowboat, that will have soon been my savior, suddenly becomes readily apparent to my newly awoken mind. I open my eyes only to see a clear, devoid of life- save the occasional seagull- sky. Sea spray occasionally reaffirms the fact that I am stranded, hopelessly, in the ocean, miles from where I call home. I struggle to keep my eyes open, seeing no reason to, while I continue to lay on the floor of the rowboat. Suddenly, moments before sleep, I feel the bobbing of the boat lapsing over waves, becoming ever smaller, until they taper off, and I'm brought to a sudden halt. I vigorously rush to a seating position.
Mar 24
Connor Gaine's picture

The Dream

The room was dark and cold, with broken furniture randomly scattered about. Cold condensation drips down off the ceiling in a pattern Drip, Drip, Drip. Suddenly, I hear a sound in the distance, kind of like a soft song, But I can’t hear any of the lyrics. I start to walk away from the sound because unlike horror movies, I don’t want to die. I'm not quite sure where I am right now so there's no point in not taking it safe, but something inside of me says there is no danger here. I try to walk through the door to leave, but the next room is an exact replica of the other room, with that weird song playing. No matter how many times I try to leave, I just keep ending up in this weird, barely lit room. Eventually, I decide to go into the other room because there is no other place to go. I start walking quietly, but the creaking of the floor would give away my position to anybody around anyways. I peak around the corner and I don’t believe what I see.
Mar 24

The Devastating Bloodshed of a thousand years

The room was cold and dark with broken furniture scattered around. That was the last building in the village.Heimdall fell to his knees drained, and exasperated in blood soaked rags. He had failed. It didnt matter how many he´d slain it wasnt enough. His hometown. The mighty Norse townsfolk of selkath were gone. The Norwegians would push forward to the capitol. Heimdall recomposed himself, returned to his horse and started off to Ba-Sing-Sae.
Mar 23

The Time is Now

When I woke up, it took me a second to realize that I was not in my own bed, but in an airplane over the sea. This is quite ironic, I think to myself as I hum the tune I previously had stuck in my head. I glance out the window to see the miles and miles of abyss that lie ahead. Suddenly the plane takes a sharp turn to the left. I fall to the ground, and quickly pick myself back up. Who’s piloting this thing? I start making my way through the isles of empty chairs and seemingly left behind luggage. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a small red corner peeking out from within the pocket of a chair on my right. With one swift movement, the envelope is now in my possession. Should I open it now? Eh, perhaps not. My mind is left too curious about the still-hidden wonders this plane has to offer. I am now almost near the cockpit, when a sudden chatter stops me in my tracks. I turn my head up towards the overhead bin and find myself making eye contact with a monkey.
Mar 22
alicjahp's picture

I Miss Earth

The stones on the walkway were smooth and rounded. At least that’s how I remembered them to be. It’s been so long since we’ve evacuated to space and I simply miss my old life, our Earth which became too toxic for us to live on. I’m old now, one of the older ones in this new home of ours. Now there are children who will never be able to experience the beauty and curiosity that nature holds for us. Instead, as a poor attempt to fill that gaping void, they've made holograms and museums. Yet it will never be the same. All I can do is sit, close my eyes, and recall all my fond memories. 
Mar 21

small sneak peak of a greater story


The house is eerily quiet, and my footsteps are as loud as my heartbeat when I walk around the living room. It is strangely clean—the sink is empty, the floor vacuumed, and the blankets neatly folded on the couch, yet the atmosphere seems tense and unrealistic. I walk into the kitchen where a flower bouquet peacefully sits on the table, its petals slowly dying, falling off the forest green stem that snakes into the copper vase, oxidized from age to a dead shade. 
Mar 20

Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy

This did not look like the right place. 

No, really. It didn’t. It was all too dark and smokey for Lillia’s taste, and, what was more, she did not quite believe in the idea that date’s needed to be clandestine—it was perfectly alright to just go on a picnic in the park. It was 2023, for God’s sake. You were allowed to hold hands with a pretty girl without being dragged toward the gallows with a noose looped around your neck. 

She had left Massachusetts far behind her, hadn’t she? 

In any case. 

A gentle tapping and an inquiry for another guest sent Lillia hurtling back into the present. Yes, she was alone. No, she hadn’t been stood up. Yes, they were coming. Yes, split the bill. No, technically they weren’t late, she was just early. 

Fucking Christ, all the questions. 
Mar 17
Ravioli's picture

The River

Death was on the air, it came in stages, each more definite then the last, unfolding like a dark flower. Hungry, always hungry... First a feeling, the feeling of the cold fog pressing in, its damp fingers brushing his skin, his soul. At first, this startled him. He jumped, slipped, skinned his knee on a rock, swore. He stood up, shaking his hands in a halfhearted attempt to purge them of mud. It was cold, so cold…The clammy breath of the fog brushed the back of his neck, begging him to turn around. He complied...the road had vanished, devoured by the fog, along with the fields, the trees, the… gone, all gone...there was only the river. A plain of unbroken obsidian, hanging still, so death… next came the voices. Soft mummers, barely more then a breath of wind. Drifting across the river toward him. They rose in volume, forming whispers, then voices. Twisting, writhing strings of language. Calling...calling...pleading…calling...he stepped into the river.
Mar 14
Mr_Kirby's picture

Icy prison

It was a cold night, too cold. “Light a fire quick!” Jack screamed, “On it!” Angela called back, But after a couple of minutes, It seemed as if the fire Angela had lit in the living room was just making the cold feel worse. It was becoming unbearable, so Angela decided to do something, but what could she do? She felt about as hopeless as a stray cat stuck in icy winter. And then, it got even worse, the windows started to get covered by crystal blue ice, “Where did the ice come from” Angela muttered in disbelief. “How is this possible” Jack whimpers. The ice is so beautiful, so blue like a blue diamond or like a shiny blue quartz. Jack has had enough, his facial expression showing rage he breaks the lig of a chair and starts hitting the ice in a desperate attempt to free himself and his friend.
Mar 11

Fate's Fire