The rain beaded on the windshield and scattered the light from the full moon, mottling her face with dabs of gray like an impressionist painting.
I wanted to make love to her, but how could I? She is a work of art, a masterpiece to be venerated from a distance.
Alex Markovich gets his best story ideas in the middle of the night.
This stuff on the page would never mean anything to her. And history: names, places, dates… What was the point?
Glancing into a mirror, she saw snow-blonde hair, river-blue eyes, cute ramrod nose. Remembering other eyes, other glances, she knew that these fixed constants would circumscribe her entire life.
Ruby Ray has worked as a barmaid, cleaner, kitchen porter and gardener. After that she had a career in teaching. Now she wonders what will be next.
Smoky against sky blue. Sunset orange mingled with hint of passion fruit. Brushed shadows of cheekbone hills. Golden desert dust underneath it all. Skin, flawless.
It didn’t look anything like her. But that didn’t matter. She looked perfect, they said.
She just wished she could smile looking in the mirror.
Flying Squirrel is having some identity crisis issues. She was a turtle in her past life.
On the bank of a river
she’s never known
call her home.
with twisted limb,
branches of trust
sing a hymn.
the cypress’ knee.
Within the silence,
He whispers a plea.
His metered veins,
a thousand lost stories,
a thousand beautiful refrains.
Grace Black, just another writer wearing down lead and running out of ink, one line at a time. Coffee refuels her when sleep has not been kind. Check out her blog at graceblackwrites.wordpress.com.
Her gaze touched me in ways you cannot imagine but in ways I cannot forget.
Fixated on one another, our eyes met. In that moment, time became irrelevant and my longing heart became hopeful. Her presence touched my soul as quickly as she left my world.
An opportune love, lost.
Jimmy is an aspiring life coach who loves stories of all sorts.
She wasted her life watching her figure. Slimming down and staying fit were her full time jobs, consuming her because she consumed nothing else. Nothing but beautiful, empty as the calories she avoided. A double zero personality in a double zero casket. Smiling, for in death she only gets thinner.
Chris Griglack was born and raised in Massachusetts where he has lived for 24 years. He graduated from the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth in 2012 with a degree in Writing, Rhetoric, and Communications.
The night came, bringing icy cold air to the battlefield, and the moans once heard fell silent as the first snowflakes drifted down.
A shroud of snow covered everything, and in the morning a more beautiful landscape was unimaginable anywhere else, except for the knowledge of the grotesque shapes beneath.
Connell Wayne Regner had successfully avoided writing creatively since he wrote spontaneous lyrics to music some years ago. Although from a linguistic background, he has serendipitously succumbed to fiction. His other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.
“Darling Cynthia, please give me just one more chance!”
“Why should I settle for an imperfect suitor?” sniffed Cynthia. “You answered a question wrong!”
“I’ll change my answer! I’ll change anything! Just tell me how!”
Cynthia considered. “Fine, one more chance. After all, I am the fairest of them all.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Sir_Oddington.