Satire
Off the Rails
A crescent of faint orange light winds its way under Paul's heavy lids, waking him all at once. This pisses him off, having always enjoyed the slow secession of oblivion from being, the somnambulant spectacle of the heavy dark deliquescing as the soft salmon glow of lamplight crept in, night a slipstream of the gentle dawn …
By T. McCormack4 years ago in Fiction
Manifesto of a Runaway Train
Thirteen thousand, seven hundred, forty-three horsepower, a V8 turbo charged engine, sixteen wheels with three extras just in case and track ahead of me for days. They’ve set me free, started my engine and now I’m not going to stop until I kill every last person on board this train.
By Rafe Kaplan4 years ago in Fiction
Trying to Reach You
The ringing in your ears is so subtle, so persistent, so rhythmic that you must be imagining it. But as you wake, your body sprawled carelessly on a triple-seat subway bench, the ringing is the only thing that seems real. You don’t live in a big city. You don’t take the subway. You have a ringing in your ears. These are truths.
By Addison Horner4 years ago in Fiction
"The P.W.K." (Part One)
NOTE: I wanted to be up front with you concerning my writing process here. There is a great deal about the technical filmmaking process that I am unaware of. In writing this story, I have done my best to emulate such knowledge by way of a basic, functional approach. I always write from my heart, choosing to believe in my own innate abilities and not putting much stock in anything else. Of course, if you have some form of extensive knowledge that you would like to share with me, please do!! It could only strengthen the experience for everyone else in the process. I can always make small adjustments later. Either way, do enjoy the tale, and let me know what you think about it. \m/, B']
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man4 years ago in Fiction
Unwelcome Visit
Rick came home in the middle of a storm. Even the thunder echoing outside her small house couldn't compare to his loud knocking. All he brought was a tattered suitcase and an empty wallet. It was more than he had when he'd left. She wanted to leave him standing in the hallway because he'd only contaminate her home.
By Shyla Pope4 years ago in Fiction
Satire on a death train
"Nightmares". He yells, the dapper skeleton. "Nightmares, get your nightmares here. Get it before they are all gone, for living, in reality here, is death". He cackles at his own joke, toothless grin and sunken eyes searching for another lost soul to torment.
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Fiction
