Jan 11
fiction 0 comments challenge: Kites
Kyle A Emerson's picture

The Wooden Kite of the Green Mountains

On April 5th, of the year 2025, the world changed forever. A kite was made, and it suddenly glowed with a golden, holy radiance. From that day forward, all kites came to life. Some were aggresive, some were tame. Eventually the world was riddled with kites, and it became a hobby, and a lifestyle, to find the best kite out in the wild, and have it fight for you in the numerous worldwide tournaments of kite fighting. I was never good at taming the big kites, but my dream was to be the best kite fighter in the world. Kite fighters get big money, and all the glory. And it's a win win because the kites love to fight and love the attention. I live in the small town of Bradford, where if kites were a medium size here that'd be a rare sighting. So I never was good at fighting kites or taming them. The other kids would pick on me because my kites were weak and timid creatures. But i'll show them. One day I'm gonna tame the legendary Wooden Kite of the Green Mountains.
Jan 10
fiction 0 comments challenge: 70°
adrianh's picture

My Experience With 70 Degrees

    ¨AHHHHH!¨ I screamed,, ¨Get of!¨ 70° was sitting on me, slowly exterminating every last bit of my friend, 60°. “You know, you really should respect the weather,” He said “ Or else it will make you.” 70° then stood up, hoped of my couch, and broke through my window. Jus then 60° came through the bathroom door. “That smells!” I exclaimed. “If it smells, clean it.”She said. “The windows broken, clean it.” “70° is splattered on the ground, cl- -aiaiaiaiaiai!”
Jan 09
Seraphyn.Payne's picture

The Last Hurricane

“Mommy, I’m scared.” a tiny voice whispered. A few families sat huddled underground. The world was being torn above their heads and only the oldest members knew what was happening. The youngest sat huddled on laps, clutching family pets. Fish swam lazily in their bowl on a small wooden table in the corner. No one wanted to explain to the children that when they were finally allowed back upstairs, their homes might not be there.

“I know, baby. Here, come read this.” the last part was directed to the oldest boy, sitting in the farthest corner of the damp basement. He climbed to his feet and lifted the small child off the mother’s lap. She carried a soft blanket in her chubby arms and her thumb was wet with her saliva.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, her voice echoing in the small room.
Jan 08

WakE uP!

Who are you?

Who am I?

Why is society the way it is?

When will we draw the line

When will we stand up and change

Oh how far we’ve gone in time

Oh how little in change

What will happen to make us wake up

What has to happen before we realize the power is in us?

In you and me

When will we realize that it’s the small things that matter

it ‘s those that make up the big thing

When will we realize that we should unite and move on together

Instead of breaking apart and arguing about what has happened

Wake up

Who are we

Who do we want to be

What do we want

How are we gonna get it

Wake up

Realize that in the end, it's us vs us

That, in the end, its friend vs friend

That in the end, we’re just human

That in the end, our mistakes define us
Jan 07
fiction 0 comments challenge: 70°
byamt's picture

How Odd

I walk up to her, 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Isn’t that an odd name? I have always wondered why she is called that but I’ve never had the guts to ask. She seems to know it’s weird too, but she doesn’t seem to care. I am now standing next to her. She is staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice that I am there. How odd. After about thirty seconds of just standing there I clear my throat softly. She looks up suddenly -seemingly surprised that I am there.

“Oh, hi” She says in a friendly tone.

“Hi” I say back. I feel stupid, but I need to ask for help even though it is just some simple math homework. “Could I have some help with the math homework?” I ask.

“Of course” she responds not seeming to judge me for not understanding.

“So do you wanna meet after school?”


“Do you wanna come go to my house or yours?”

“Up to you”
Jan 06
Fiona Ella's picture

Does Anyone Else Hear Screaming from the Culvert?

so: long story short, a friend of mine told me about a strange post a friend of hers saw on facebook and i decided to run with it and use it as a writing prompt. the end result was some kind of twisted love child of edgar allan poe and welcome to night vale and i'm hoping to record it and add sound affects at some point considering those influences. even i don't fully understand what i've written but here it is.
Jan 06

Lost Things

If I didn't wake up
My parents would tell the hospital
She is stuck in the place where the lost things are
Floating on wings that she always wanted
And dancing underneath the moonlight.
If you need her
Look between the pages of worn books 
And in the shadows of the apple tree.
Search in the seashells for the lilting melody of her voice
And follow her footprints in the faded sand.
They would tell the world not to worry
That I am just behind the corner next to the ice cream shop
My lips matching the shade of my strawberry ice cream cone.
People would send flowers 
And my parents would take the petels of one by one and scatter them in my hair
Until only thin stems remained 
Blown out the window by the autumn breeze.

If I didn't wake up
The nurses would whisper about how I was dead
But my parents would laugh
And tell them to look at my old sketchbooks
Jan 05
Paigebrammell2022's picture


I Have never really been the type to babysit. I’m socially awkward and irresponsible. That's exactly why my dad decided to tell his boss, that needed a babysitter, that I would do it for them. He thought it would help me gain some responsibility and help me to come out of my shell. Without even asking me. I didn’t really know these kids but they were little and sweet so I thought it shouldn’t be too hard.

    The day came. I did my regular routine of getting dressed and eating breakfast. My mom made me an extra big one just in case I got nervous and wouldn’t want to eat later. I was super nervous, questions were circling through my head like, what if they’re rude? Or annoying? What if they don’t like me? I just shook off the thought. The thought of all the money I was getting was keeping me going. My dad made sure I had my phone and new when to call 911 and gave us the house phone. We waited until we had to leave. Around 3 pm we decided to leave.
Jan 04

i question stuff

Is it wrong to want to question everything while I understand nothing? Sometimes I just get this driving force compelling me to do a doubletake; step back and look at the whole view. I like to question who really is the victim and who's the criminal, or why we decided to call 7 days a week. Who made these decisions anyways?
Theres so many points of view in this world and it's hard to figure out which one I'm supposed to take. For now I think I'll stick with the stuff I do know, just to be safe.  
Jan 04
Callys4's picture

Queen Weinberg #2

If you read my last book and you enjoyed it you will absolutely love this one! This book is about… wait I can’t tell you what is gonna happen because then the book won’t be as totally awesome as the first one. So there I was climbing and tumbling down the cruel worlds stupidness as I get a major concussion I still manage to do a backflip P.S I totally nailed it. So when I got to school I saw Queen of apparently our huge giant large and medium at the same time classroom since I have a pretty tough crowd this year I shoved Mrs. Weinberg into the reading boat I screamed “ PIG PILE ON MRS. WEINBERG”. So we all ended up in the boat stuck until the boat broke into like a million pieces I slept on Alex as he was jumping up and down on the stationary swivel chair. As you well know I always fall asleep if I do NOT have my 8:00 am coffee.
Jan 04
fiction 0 comments challenge: 70°

The Man Called 70 Degrees

There was a man that I knew.  He was kind and wise.   His name was 70 Degrees.  He was a really good person and he always had a smile,  for everyone he knew.    This is the story of how I met the 70-degree man.   
Jan 03

Hanging by a Thread

Hanging by a thread
It is all that I have left.
Above me is where I want to be,
And below is a dark pit that nobody knows.

I tried,
I tried so hard
But each and everyone came down hard
Smashing my soul to pieces.

If I were to do it again, I would,
But this time I would take you
The one I love.
I know that you would help,
Even if it cost you everything
Because you love me, and I you
But it was all my fault and you didn’t know.

Helpless I hang
My enemies would win again,
That pit begins to reach out
To my bare feet it wants.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

A hand pulls me up into the clear air,  
And the feeling of crashing through
The surface of water
Is very vivid.

I land on someone,
Looking down I see you.
A moment of silence and stillness,
And then time again.

You pull me against you
Jan 03

Old forgotten souls

The worn books
Now fall apart when you open them.
The stories that used to sweep you in
Now lie in illegible ink.
The old forgotten souls that would create these paths
Leave a piece of them in the books,
Just so they would never be forgotten.
The books that used to live and breathe magic
Are overtaken and thrust to the side.
All until one little girl,
Eyes ever so curious,
Her fingers delicate and caring,
Lifts the book and finds a seat,
Her eyes put to work, reading, while the old souls
Get remembered once more.

Jan 03
Talia's picture


    Everyone was silent at morning meeting because of what happened. The night before in Mark Keegan’s lab was a terrible accident. Mark spent all night attempting to create a potion that will keep his students quiet when he teaches because what teacher wouldn’t want that. He couldn’t get it right no matter how many times he tried. Mark did everything to make it work. The students that talked during class were his test subjects. They all promised not to talk in class again. They begged and begged before Mark got so tired of it that he taped them to chairs. Around midnight, he sat down frustrated that his test subjects were still talking. Then, the most recent attempt started glowing. Green smoke started filling the room. Lighting cracked high up in the sky. The test subjects screamed as well as they could since they had tape on their mouths. Soon, the smoke fogged up the room, so thick, they couldn’t see. The smoke started creeping out the door.
Jan 03
Talia's picture

I Just Want to be Home

I Just Want to be Home
“It’s here again!” my mom screams.

      “It’s worse!” my older sister yells.

“Mommy!” my baby sister shouts out terrified.

“Brooke!” my dad yells out.

The earth is a gong after someone hits it. The world is crumbling on top of us. The ceiling is against us, piece by piece covering us with white and brown dust like sugar on a pastry. Is anyone going to do anything? Can’t anyone help us? Isn’t there someone who can save us? Are we alone? Am I alone?

“Mommy! Daddy!” I yell into the emptiness of my world falling apart. All I hear are screams from my neighbors and our once kind earth turned evil. This has happened before but never like this. We are not going to make it… we are not going to make it… we are not going to make it… we are not going to make it…

“Brooke wake up,” I hear my mother’s soft voice. “They are ready for us.”
Jan 03
fiction 2 comments challenge: 70°
Jen L.'s picture

Seventy Degrees Fahrenheit

If 70 degrees fahrenheit was a person, it would be a pleasant person to hang around with. It would probably wear nice bright, but not neon, colors that are pleasant to the eyes and it would never speak in a tone of voice that would make someone mad or sad. They would make everyone happy. 70 degrees would say kind things to everyone, even if the person they are complementing is mean to them. That’s the thing though, nobody can stay mad at 70 degrees for very long. 70 degrees is always nice.
Jan 02

The Glass Castle (Part 4)

Death had been in Cleo Foley's house for 37 hours

"You're taking all this remarkably well," said Death.
"I feel flattered."
"You should. Anyway. I'm sorry."
"...For what?" said Cleo.
Jan 02

Cleo Foley

Cleo Foley doesn't like you. Cleo Foley has never met you, but she doesn't really like you anyway. Cleo Foley hs long hair, long legs, long arms and a long attention span. She can focus on one thing for hours at a time. For example, how much she doesn't like you. She doesn't hate you, because she can't. She's incapable of hating anyone. She may act tough, she may act coarse. Maybe even cold. But she doesn't hate anyone. Cleo Foley, who should have been a freshman in college, has noticed that she doesn't really like you. She notices a lot of things. Like what Death smells like (lavendar soap and a crackling fire). Or what her little brother used to smell like (towels fresh out of the dryer and blueberry smoothies). Nobody really notices anything about her though. She doesn't miss you, all you meddling people. All you people don't really miss her either. Mostly because you don't know who she is, so you can't miss her. Death noticed a few things about her though.
Jan 02
Samara Spelman's picture

They Weren't Normal Children

    The Kendalls were an interesting family to say the least. The parents were about as normal as they come, but there was just something different about their children. I had been their babysitter for about a year, but they only needed me about once or twice a month when Mr. and Mrs. Kendall went out for a date night. They paid me well, so I kept quiet about how awful their children were when they were out of the house.

    The two children had finally fallen asleep after an hour of me trying to wrestle them into their beds. They had so much energy and were not in the mood to fall asleep, but I started playing a podcast on my phone for them to listen to and they were able to lie down in their beds, listening intently to the story, and eventually, they both drifted off to a state resembling sleep.
Jan 02

Man In A Sleeping Bag

    On a random day in a random town lay a random man in a random alley. Two random pigeons—named Bird and Drib—found this random man in a blue sleeping bag. Unfortunately these random pigeons had no idea what a sleeping bag was nor did they realise that a man was the same being as a sleeping man.
    “What is this?” cooed Bird to Drib, stroking the thing on the ground,
    “I’m not entirely sure!” replied Drib to Bird, who stood petting the opposite side,
    “Is it blue?” questioned Bird, cocking his head,
    “It is blue!” declared Drib, who looked excitedly at Bird as if he’d discovered something spectacular.
The two stared for precisely seven minutes and forty-three seconds at the thing on the ground, patting it in different places. At some point, Drib poked the thing in what must’ve been a sensitive place as the thing groaned in obvious discomfort. Bird looked up at Drib, horrified,
    “What on Earth did you do?”