Satire
B.G.
Scantily clad women walked by the bar in colors that would make a florist blush. The music boomed and strobe lights, lasers, and even more girls poured into the space like it was a pageant for Miss America. Artie Morrissey, a man the color of pecans, sat down with the Prophet Mohammad.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
The Disruptor
A cerulean sky welcomed the speaker and media members to better understand the position of the speaker. Glints of sunlight shone through the silver leaves onto the podium. When the press crowd had finally died down, the Prophet Mohammad could finally speak.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
Falling Pillars
With all the different ways that he was able to win over a billion plus people, the Prophet Mohammad took it all in stride. He held onto his sense that he was the messenger of the unknown and unknowable. He roamed the streets of Newark, Delaware on Main Street. A cool Saturday in Autumn saw a breeze which shook the trees’ golden and orange leaves. When people waved, he waved back. When they honked their horns, he smiled.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
Run girl run you in DANGER ⚠️
Hi it’s me …..there I was in a beeping wired, filled room it was warm the scbu department in the hospital there was about five of us Women in this department (that looked like myself I might add) our babies all came early preemie babies I’m in a state of shock I’m trying to bond with a baby I didn’t plan for.
By S George WONDER WOMAN 4 years ago in Fiction
Who Or What Is The Woke Mob?
By way of metonymy, the 'woke' mob gets thrown around quite a lot in our modern political arena. So, what exactly do you think it means? And, what’s the best way to capture the essence of the message being conveyed, without being overly (or perhaps unbearably), critical of the Left? I’ve come up with a story to do just that. So here’s my personal reflection on what or who the 'woke' mob may be….
By Delusions of Grandeur 4 years ago in Fiction
And He Shot Him in the Head
The range allowed for anyone with enough grit and exactness to try their hand at putting rounds on paper targets. In time, those targets could be future attackers. Of course, a situation where an attacker would assault you, heart rate, adrenaline, and the whole pharmacy of other drugs in your brain and body would be coursing.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
Abaddon
CHAPTER 1 “Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say”. That was the final utterance from that smarmy shithead Gabor as I opened the door of a monstrously pretentious onyx-colored G-Class that would taxi me to a tarmac the size of a small country.
By Logan de Armond4 years ago in Fiction
Experiment 86119
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I rather feel like I hear screams too often while looking at the vastness of the stars above me. Inhaling the salty air as I stand just close enough to the ocean for the water to roll over my feet, I ignore the subtle hues of different colored lights coming from me. Almost in a trance, I stand perfectly still as I await something I’m not a hundred percent certain of as a memory rises.
By Skaoi_Nott4 years ago in Fiction
Vickers Goes Down With the Ship
Chapter 1 - The Boatman “’Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.’” Science Officer Cornet Barnaby Vickers was distracted – lost in a peaceful trance. Sleeping was never a regularly afforded luxury in the academy, and many of the cadets had trained themselves to rest by focusing on a single point. It was a makeshift form of sleeping, but it was incredibly rejuvenating compared to the alternative of struggling to convince a Cadre Instructor that one was not asleep.
By Charles Rix4 years ago in Fiction
