Young Adult
A Prince and his Pauper 2. Content Warning.
When Charlie and I spoke on the Sunday night we had arranged to meet at his place and walk to school together the next morning. When I rang their front doorbell that morning the heavy wooden door was answered by a woman who looked nothing like the grandmother I had expected to see. The woman looking out at me didn’t even look old enough to be a grandmother. She had straight grey hair, but she looked more like an office worker; smartly dressed and with a neat hairdo.
By Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters3 days ago in Fiction
A Prince and his Pauper. Content Warning.
All eyes were on the beautiful, yet haughty, young Prince as he walked from the Great Hall of the ancient Castle of Geronia, in a scene accompanied by a trumpeted fanfare, while following in the footsteps of his father, the King. As light from the lanterns that lined the walls flickered and danced, their procession passed by their ever-faithful subjects, who bowed in reverence to their leader and his heir, with not another sound being uttered.
By Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters3 days ago in Fiction
The Story Beneath The Story
People call me Bigfoot and other names and say that I smell horribly. They are afraid of me because I’m not human and have fur. I live where few people do, and the scent I give off is from my rich diet. We live in the wilderness, hiding from humans, and smell like the earth and trees. We rub the raw elk onto our fur and sometimes have nests with carcasses and excrement. Humans don’t find traces of our bodies because, when near death, our fur sheds and eagles take it away. We only die in the spring when wolf and bear cubs are emerging, and our bodies feed their young, while their parents consume our bones. There aren’t many of us left. We think humans stink, and we know when they are near. Human females smell better than males, but sometimes their acrid odor makes me sneeze; it seems to happen once every moon.
By Andrea Corwin 5 days ago in Fiction
Moby Dee
We all think we know the story of Moby Dick, a tale of human courage, obsession, and revenge against a monstrous white whale, a creature of evil nature. We also remember that in the end nature cannot be tamed or defeated: Moby Dick kills his obsessed hunter and leaves. This has become such a recognizable myth that the name itself -- Moby Dick -- evokes powerful feelings of fear and anxiety about the untamed monster whale in the vast ocean.
By Lana V Lynx5 days ago in Fiction
Someone Keeps Swiping Right on My Dating Profile
I downloaded the dating app two weeks after Valentine’s Day. Not because I was ready to date again. Mostly because my friends wouldn’t stop telling me to “get back out there.” My last relationship ended badly, and February had been miserable enough already.
By V-Ink Stories5 days ago in Fiction
My Girlfriend Wants My Heart for Valentine’s Day
When my girlfriend first said she wanted my heart forever, I laughed. It was Valentine’s season, and she’d been in that overly romantic mood all week—pink candles, heart-shaped cookies, cheesy love songs playing in the apartment while she cooked dinner.
By V-Ink Stories5 days ago in Fiction
The Last Round Before Sunrise
The group had been bar-hopping since early evening. St. Patrick’s Day had turned the whole downtown area into a blur of green shirts, plastic shamrocks, and loud music pouring from every open doorway. By midnight, most of the popular bars were packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
By V-Ink Stories5 days ago in Fiction
The Midnight Alley: The Boy Who Called His Killer “Dad”
Lightning cracked overhead as Detective Lena Carter’s boots splashed through the rain-slicked alley. The call had come just moments ago—a child was hurt, and the storm didn’t care. Narrow walls of brick reflected the flickering light from a struggling streetlamp, puddles trembling under each flash. On the wet ground lay a boy, twelve years old, eyes wide in final surprise, blood glimmering in crimson streams across the cracks beneath him. Clutched in his small, trembling fingers was a soaked scrap of paper. Carter leaned close, throat tight: the letters D_A_ smeared by rain.
By imtiazalam6 days ago in Fiction
She She She
A pale and thin girl, Miriam, sat alone in her high school cafeteria. A breeze of rustic potato smells enveloped her and put her off. She had already thrown away the annoying lunch her breast-cancer-ridden mother packed her, despite knowing Miriam wasn’t eating again.
By Paul Aaron Domenick6 days ago in Fiction
