Sophie’s Misfortune
by ~MirellaBailey
“Will you run away with me?”
“Yes.”
I hadn’t expected him to say yes.
-
We were far from home before I had the courage to ask why.
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you anything back there?”
“Yes. But I want something more.”
Posts tagged prose
A Remembrance
by ~SententiaTertiana
As a remembrance for Veteran’s Day and being a soldier, I thought I would write something that is dear to my heart. Something that was an experience I will never forget. What follows is a brief synopsis of the events leading up to the main occurrence.
In April 2003, the men and women of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment (3rd ACR) deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Though these men and women, who will be referred to from now on as Soldiers, were trained in their respective jobs and equipped to the standards of the United States Army at that time, none of them knew what to expect. Some, a small minority, had seen combat before, either in Bosnia or Desert Storm. There were even a few Vietnam vets that had gotten out of the military and signed back up at a later date. But in reality, none of these Soldiers knew what was to come in the next year of their lives.
By the Highway
by ~theByb
The trees were all dead. No leaves, bare fingers stretched towards the sky in a twisted sort of prayer. The houses below them had no prayer – not even one coming from a tree – that could save them. They were ramshackle, they were peeling paint and broken pipes. They were forgotten glass shards embedded in a crying toddler’s foot, or cold wind blasting its way through a broken window. They were everything that a house should not be, hazardous and inhospitable and ugly.
FFM4—Challenge
by ~WocketPocket99
“Microchips?”
“You don’t need those. These are chronically enhanced ladybugs.” The man pointed to a red painted camera. “That’s one, there,” he said.
Jack squinted. “Genetically enhanced?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Anyway, come inside. We’ve got more.” He motioned to the door.
My Future in Algorithms
I’m an awning-bound baby,
all denim and dopamine.
You’re sporting a cardigan,
and a knack for trigonometry.
The Great Wall
by ~shebledgreenink
When papers ask me where I’m from, I write “Seattle,” because they don’t want to know the real answer. When people ask me where I’m from, I say “downtown,” and they take a good look at me and take that to mean “Chinatown.”
My parents run one of the zillion dim sum restaurants here. They’re what the white kids at school call “fresh off the boat.” Most of the people here are. They don’t speak English at home, and they try not to at work. They don’t watch anything on American TV; they read the local Chinese paper and watch the one Asian channel, pausing to turn off the TV in disgust whenever one of the five daily Korean soap operas comes on. On Saturdays they go to the market and complain about the terrible selection. When they manage to find chicken’s feet, they declare a feast day and eat it with reverence, like it fell from the heavens just for us.
The radio told us:
by *iPawed
i couldn’t sleep last night.
i didn’t know why but i kept waking up - i was too hot; there were odd noises outside; someone in the apartment was moving around.
i finally went to sleep at dawn, and between the clouds and the sun, the sky was orange.
i updated my facebook status from my phone to,
the sky is orange: why is the sky orange?
a friend responded:
red sky in the morning (or orange) - shepherd’s warning!
she didn’t know how horribly right she was about to be.
Comfort Moon
by ~AllegoriaMalata
I picture myself sitting in my little antique apartment holding a bowl of oatmeal. I’m in my pajamas with my hair cascading everywhere, and the oatmeal has little pink strawberries in it. It’s November, and very cold, outside.
I hadn’t realized I was crying. I felt wet sliding down my neck in slimy, salty rivers before I noticed my vision was blurred and my throat was tight with reluctant sobs. I must look so ridiculous when I cry. I don’t even know why I’m sad.
A Christmas Kitten
by ~tigertailzlc
She came today.
She hasn’t come for a lot of days. It’s too cold. But today she came. Today is Christmas Eve and she came for me.
She is happy today. She talks a lot – endless chatter as she sticks a handful of food in my cage, which I gratefully eat up. I am hungry, and it’s cold.
She doesn’t stop talking. I don’t know what she is saying. She knows I don’t know. Or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she thinks I know. But anyway, she doesn’t stop talking. I listen to her, glad of her voice in the glum silence. The others listen too. They are lonely, like me.
Grey and Gimble in the Wabe
by ~scarletbird
The ground was soft beneath his feet. It squelched and popped beneath the pressure of his determined stride, and sometimes crunched on a creature that hadn’t been able to get out of his way quickly enough. Hadn’t been able to, or hadn’t wanted to—it was hard to tell, in a place like this. Barren, and yet alive in its own way. Wet, always wet, but with a sickly damp that worked its way into his clothes and his hair and his lungs. Flat and endless like an empty chessboard. In the distance stood figures that looked somewhat like trees, except they were too round, too perfect, like the tops of some ghastly fungus. If the man ever paused long enough to stare at them, they might move, just a bit. But it was hard to tell. And the man never did stop long enough.
“Why are you following me?”
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