Nov 09
fiction 3 comments challenge: Club
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. 
Dec 14
zazu's picture

pink chalk

"Look, it's lava!" Emerson exclaims in alarm, pointing with her small hand to the narrow stream ahead, flowing with the bubbling amber liquid, that seems to shimmer more radiantly in the darkness of the cave. Emerson takes a deep breath, her small shoulders rising slightly, as she allows her gaze to focus in on the barrier ahead of her. There's a slight pause, and then she begins to run, her blond pigtails bouncing behind her. Emerson leaps over the lava, the the boiling magma barely lapping up to engulf her bear ankles. Safely on the other side she beams, triumphant. "You can do it!" She calls back to me in encouragement. Suddenly, a prius pulls into view, and the darkness from the cave vanishes instantly to be replace with sunlight, that radiates off of the cars shiny blue paint, making it sparkle. A women in the drivers seat, rolls down her window, pulling up beside me.
Dec 13
fiction 0 comments challenge: Music

Heartbreak

Lewis Capaldi's song “Someone you loved” Is about the feelings of heartbreak. This song starts off slowly just like the ending of a relationship. It is slow like your mind after you lost the one you love. It feels as if though everything is okay yet you are just sad. It increases until suddenly all of the feelings hit you at once. You crave to hold this person again, you crave their touch, their voice, and even just their presence. Then it gets intense feelings you need and crave when you can’t get them anymore. It just keeps getting more intense. Then you get calm again, you are okay just sad. You think it's over but then it happens again. You can’t function without them anymore. You are willing to do anything for them. You now remember all of the memories and fun times you shared, you start to feel angry. Then the feeling of love intensifies for them, it gets so intense that you are screaming out till your voice breaks. You have reached your peak.
Dec 13
lmnoyes's picture

Big city

I'm hungry for life it's self, to experience it all. The big cites, the small towns. that natural bliss of living to the fullest. But I have built walls, these walls were layed brick by brick with each "Sorry I can't make it," and all the " I'm sick maybe next time," because when I make up an excuse to not do it all, I prevent myself from living. I can't deprive myself any longer, something has to be done. To live I must do things, I can't sit back and watch.
 
Dec 12
nfarnham's picture

Thank you


Someone I have reverence for is my mother. I  may not always show it and I might act like a brat to her but she is one of my favorite people in the entire world. She does so much for me and my siblings. She never shows how hard it is to take care of us sometimes especially when we fight with each other over stupid little thing. 

    She makes sure we have everything we need and is always there for us. Whenever we need her she drops what she is doing to give us what we want. She makes sure we are happy and does her best to get us everything we need. She one of the few people I trust and will never let me down. Thank you so much for being there. I want to be just like you when I grow up. 
 
Dec 12

My Soaked Tee-Shirt

The sun hid.
And I, a petulant child, chased after him, 
in hopes I could bask in his warmth and be stripped of my sin.  
I ran and ran, but my legs gave up. 
I wish that I could have been fast enough,
and the clouds always engulf him in time.
Leaving me stranded in this bleak state of mind

Without the sun, the sky grew dark. 
So she gathered grey clouds to bury her busted broken heart 
But her pain seeped through, I felt it on my head.
I cursed the sun for the way he had misled
her and left her feeling empty. 
But he kept hiding, the sun had no empathy. 

The sky cried. 
It began as a silent weep but moved to a scream
that woke me from my sleep. 
Thunder that could be heard for miles, 
but all I could do was listen to her upended smiles.  
I tried to soak up her sadness, and carry away her tears,
But I could never have enough tee-shirt I fear.
Dec 11
Goaliegirl's picture

House on 13 Maple Street

The sound was screaming inside my head, I wake up
mysteriously on the side walk insted of in my room. The 
moon was shinning, the sky was dark, and the house was
surrounded by glittering smoke. I remembered when we 
moved away from this street. My parents believed the house
nextdoor on 13 Maple Street was haunted.
 
Dec 09

Pluto

This is a prequal I wrote to the Roman myth of Prosperinia and Pluto. It was actually a school assignment, but I had a lot of fun writing the story. I hope you like it!


The Fields of Asphodel are crowded today. They are crowded every other day too, filled to the brim with normal people from normal lives who could have changed the world but chose not to. I stare down at the expressionless faces that stand silently for all eternity. They are my subjects, my responsibility, my burden. I wonder if my parents are down there, or if it is different for Gods. What I wouldn’t give to see them again, but fear has always stopped me. What if I don’t see them? What if I do?

Reverence

    Moms, the ones who can always find something you lost even in places you have already looked. The person you can always go to for advice. The one who can pick you up when your feeling down. 
    Moms, they get you where you need to go and support you on even the littlest things. They know when things are off and not right. They are proud of even your smallest achievements. They smile when you smile and frown when your down.
    It is for these reasons that I revere moms. Even if they make you mad at times or you make them mad you always make up in the end. Without moms we wouldn’t be here and know what we know today. It’s important to have a strong respect for your mom and even your dad. For most parents you’re their number one priority and they do more than care about you. 
Dec 08

Short story chapter 3

chapter 3: Grace
Dec 08
zazu's picture

Thoughts on my sleeve

I sit on the steps in front of my house.
Doing absolutely nothing except breathing, (obviously), and chewing a piece of gum that is beginning to lose its flavor.
My dog runs across the front lawn, for seemingly no particular reason, barking like crazy...probably at the neighbors' ghost from next door...but that's just my theory.
I look up into a piercing blue sky. Speckled here and there with little white clouds.
I drum my fingers against my thigh, and pull my baseball cap lower over my eyes, looking at the random words I've written in sharpy on the underside of the brim.
Done,
Run,
Pun,
Sun... Wow, the sun is bright today.

I hear feet tapping on the sidewalk and look up briefly.
Dec 06
Ms. Naugle's picture

The Real Meaning of Christmas

Amy was at my house that Sunday morning, telling me a Christmas story.

"So last year, I was extremely naughty," she said.

I nodded.

"I growled at the cat, I screeched in church, and I even ate pencil shavings!"

I grimaced at the last one.

"That Christmas Eve, I worried. A LOT!"

Again, I nodded.

"The next morning, I woke up to find a letter on my bedside table. It was written in neat black cursive."

"What did it say, Amy?" I asked.

"Patience, Aria," she said back. We laughed and she continued her story.

"It said, 'Dear Amy, I gave you no presents, but seeing your family and spreading joy is a present of its own. Your friend, Santa Claus.' The end."

Her story warmed my heart. Spreading cheer really was the point of Christmas. Merry Christmas!
 
Dec 06
Ms. Naugle's picture

Soccer

Winter soccer starts at 7 PM and ends at 8 PM. But the drive makes poeple get home at 8:45 PM. So when do I go to sleep? 7 PM.
 
Dec 05
Ms. Naugle's picture

Zero

When I look at a zero, I see many things. I see a person's mouth wide open. I see a bowl with fish in it, swimming round and round. But I never see my face in it. Never, ever, Trevor, Shever see my face.
 
Dec 05
Ms. Naugle's picture

Wait.

One time, I couldn't sleep, so I started to wait and wait, and still wait, and kept on waiting, and I strated to wonder what happened if the nigth went on forever. And it felt like that. But actually, I was sleeping the whole time.

But then it was the day before Christmas, so I waited the whole day until it was time to go to bed, and I couldn't sleep again, so I started to wait and wait...
 
Dec 05
nfarnham's picture

A Winter Waiting

I stand at the edge of the mountain waiting to ski down. I have waited to do this for the entire year. I love skiing and to only be able to do it for a few months and then have to wait is excruciating. It is like waiting for the first snowfall. You wait all year and the excitement builds up and then you can’t wait anymore. 

    I breathe in the fresh, cool mountain air as I start to go down the mountain. It feels natural, like riding a bike or swimming. I ski all of the way down hoping I don’t crash like I did last year. I get to the bottom and laugh with joy. I have waited and finally, I get to do what I love again.