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. 
Jun 11

The Melting Horn: How The Stars Were Created

The moon shone bright as a pod of whales passed beneath it. They made their obscure whale call, signaling that they needed to go up for air. 

Many years ago, those whales had horns, like the ones that unicorns have. This pod was exceptional, their horns were wider than any other pods horns. Their horns and the unicorn horns were exactly the same, except the whale’s horns glowed. 

It just so happened that the horns were right above their blowholes, meaning that the water was trapped, and couldn’t get out. Since the water can’t not come out, the horns started to deliquesce. As the glowing horns melted, the shards flew up into the night sky. 

From that day on, the horns got named stars as they rose with the moon each night. As whales later evolved, the other pods horns also dissipated, meaning that whales no longer had their sparkling spikes, only their memories remained.


I ran to the table jumping up and down. 

    “So exciting! So Exciting! SO EXCITING!” I said.

    “Go see your chickens.” my father said smiling. I ran outside after grabbing bread crumbs that were kept in a plastic bag beside the door. I went to the chicken coop that stood on the far right corner of the yard. The backyard was fenced in but there was much more yard that the chickens seemed to prefer. I opened the door and all the chickens ran out. I sprinkled the bread crumbs on the ground. Sebastian crowed delightedly. 

    “Let the chicks get some too.” I told the older chickens who seemed to have eaten the most. I went back inside and my dad handed me a brown box. 

    “For me? Who is it from?” I asked.
Jun 10
Lae_GALAwolf's picture

MHA song fiction. Inspired by Jp saxe if the world was ending.

Pov Shinzo is your brother but when he got attacked by the villain. You let him think you were dead for his own safety. One year later you doubt your decision.


Dear diary, it has been a year since I let Shinzo think I was dead. Communication died between us. I still see him on the news. He achieved his dream of becoming a hero. I’m proud of him, I wish I had told him so before… 

*You trailed off*

You wonder what would have happened if you had stayed with Shinzo and suddenly the news comes on.  


You are shocked by the news and then you push the negative thoughts down. 

Jun 07
fiction 1 comment challenge: Note

A Letter Found From Lady Liberty

(Warning the story gets a lttle dark and has a sensative topic. I hope I portrayed it well and respectably)

       The wind whips my hair into my face. “Ptew, ack.” I pull my hair out of my mouth and walk closer to the statue. Good ol’ Lady Liberty. I wonder if she feels guilty now. For all the people she deceived. Her torch is supposed to be used to light the way for immigrants, not set them on fire. As problematic as she might be, I still enjoy visiting the spot. It’s so interesting to see the history of the statue. The plaques and the symbolism in every little detail. Our forefathers( or forepeople as I like to say) placed their hopes, ideals and dreams for the future in this woman. They chose her to be their shining knight in armour. 
Jun 07

The Arcane | Chapter Thirteen: Yymerenn, Sinnym, and the Faerie Queen

Well, you all probably saw this coming. I was not subtle. But maybe I'll surprise a few of you, at least.
I must say, coming up with draconic names is very fun. I enjoyed it immensely.

A Story With No End

A fluffy purple caterpillar glides across Alley Road on Halloween night, always slowing to look at flowers. In its mind, thoughts are swirling around “Soon, the undead will be here soon.” Somewhere, a clock strikes 12, meaning the time has come to terrorize the city.  The caterpillar sees a bucket of cocoa powder fly high into the sky, turning into an undead vulture above the city.  A turquoise oranguta0n pulls it’s head out of a spinach can  and says in a southern accent, “Ooooh yeah! It's good to be alive again.”

  The caterpillar starts yodeling. All undead rise under the control of the one and only fluffy purple caterpillar. 

“It is now time to terrorise!!!!!!” it yells.


I ran over a fallen branch as my messy, brown hair whipped in the wind. After the storm there were many branches that had fallen. The weather channel said that the bad weather was over, but there was a tornado coming our way in a few days it would be here. This news is very unpromising. 

My mother and I had been getting everything ready such as water, canned food, batteries, paper plates, paper bowls, napkins,  plastic cups and utensils. I got to the library and walked inside. 

“Why hello, Devora! How's your mother?” asked the librarian, Mrs. Kelom. Mrs. Kelom was a kind older woman who had frizzy gray hair and compationt blue eyes.

“We are all well, but starting to get tired of the apartment.” I answered. 

Lost At Sea

I swam through the seagrass forest while carrying the cloth of which held a whining puppy. I really needed to name this poor pup. It is a girl and she is a shiny gray, almost silver. I soon came to my hut. 

    “Celia! How are you sweetheart!?” asked my father, 

    “What's in that?” asked my annoying little brother Micheal while poking the puppy. 

    “Michael, stop!” I complained. 

    “Don’t touch it Michael.” My father scolded him. Turning to me as he asked.  

    “Would you like to tell me what is in the cloth?” I couldn’t answer because the puppy leapt out of the cloth and landed on my dad's lap. 

    “She gets a dog! Not fair!” Michael yelled. I rolled my eyes. 

    “Whatever Michael. Doesn't matter. I found this poor thing at the dump in one of the dumpsters. Did you think I would leave her there?” I asked as I kept my eyes on my dad. 
Jun 04
wings of fire's picture

Night, Day, Dusk, Dawn.

I awake from a deep sleep and I stand up and get dressed. I shuffle down my stairs. I eat breakfast, go outside and bike to my friend Finn's House. I shove the rest of my toast in my mouth as I climb up a tree outside his window and throw a piece of bark at it. Finn is just walking back up into his room most likely from breakfast. He jumps when he hears the bark on the glass. I almost fall out of the tree as he shouts my name. 

“SAM!!!!”Finn shouts.

“Oh shush just come out,” I say.

Finn shoves open his window and jumps out onto the branch. He easily jumps onto the branch below him, the one I'm trembling on. I honestly hate heights. He jumps off the tree and I jump after him and he catches me. 

“Thanks, let's get to school,” I say.
Jun 03

The Dragons Heart

                   The Dragon's Heart 
Jun 03

The Strongman

 The Strongman

  The strongman walks into the room to see many cheering fans. They are all excited to see him do a feat of strength. The strongman readies himself and starts. “Yarg!” he yells, sweat glistening on his forehead, biceps straining. After a good 15 minutes of lifting and twisting, he finally gives up. Moral of the story: no one can open a pickle jar.  

Jun 02
fiction 1 comment challenge: Switch

The Girl In The Mirror...Is Dead

I wake up
In a bed that's not mine
In a house that's not mine
And in a body that's not mine
I lift my hand
In front of my face
My skin is light and callused 
I swing my legs over the bed
Leaving the soft, resassuring sheets
Behind me
This room
It feels familier 
But not 
There is a mirror
On the closet door
I stare into my refelection
But it's not my relfection that stares back
At me
The girl staring back at me
Has long brown hair
Hazel eyes
High cheekbones
Full lips
I am me 
But I am not
I am her
But I am not 
But then
Who am I? 
May 31

The Labyrinth of Useless Stories

The Labyrinth is now all I am; my entire being exists within these twisted marble walls. Sometimes I wonder if I am not more than another turn in the unending pathways of this place. Yet I am unsure of how long ago it began, this fusing of myself and The Labyrinth. I feel that many days, or maybe even years, have passed since that one terrible evening, though I will never guess how long it has been. Time is fluid within The Labyrinth. There is neither day nor night, moon nor sun. Only memories.
May 31

The Arcane | Chapter Twelve: The Guardian

Have you ever walked or swum through a muddy body of water and wondered what lived below your toes? .....heh heh heh.
May 28
Exudis's picture

An Unknown Reflection

One day my life changed. It was not one of the changes that come about subtly, spurred by small actions and decisions. Eventually, enough time passes that you see the ramifications of one seemingly inconsequential decision or action, like one day folding and flying a paper airplane for the first time, and then finding yourself in twenty years majoring in aerospace engineering. On the day that I speak of, it was not a subtle change, but one on a scale so large it was previously unimaginable to me. I looked in the mirror and saw a face that was not my own.