Microfiction
Where the Water Moves One Way and the Truth Moves Another
The river had always flowed uphill, though no one in Bellmere ever said it that way. They said instead that the town was “cleverly engineered,” or that the water simply “knew where it needed to go.” Children were taught in school that Bellmere sat on a rare but perfectly respectable incline that confused outsiders more than locals. On field trip days, Mrs. Carrow would line the class up along the iron railing and point toward the water climbing, slow and patient, toward the distant hills.
By Lawrence Lease2 months ago in Fiction
Marshall's Observations. Runner-Up in Craft Over Catharsis Challenge.
Marshall watched seagulls and crows playing in the wind among pink-tinted cloud beds that slowly turned gray as the sun hung at the sea's horizon. He used his iPhone to focus on the reflections in the water and snapped a photo. He liked the result; it showed a butterscotch sun sitting on the water below a pink cloud, with the ferry in the foreground.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Fiction
To love the villain. Content Warning.
Most of us think the best of other people. We look for the goodness in them and expect it in return. And when reality doesn’t live up to that image, we are left heartbroken. Once we fall for that kind of person, that darkness… it’s almost impossible to escape.
By Minou J. Linde2 months ago in Fiction
Past Lives. Content Warning.
War made for odd couples. To Private Jim Mclellan, Sepp seemed a good man; better at least than some of the monsters he heard stories of deeper into the Reich. Real monsters. This Sepp almost reminded Jim of his uncle; the one from Wisconsin he met a few times at Weddings.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Fiction
TCoE: Climb
A scoff erupted from above. "You'll never make it," a man's ragged voice sneered. A twelve-year-old boy with messy dark hair and tan skin pulled his brown eyes from the parchment in his shaking hands. The sharp, resentful words cut his heart, leaving it frozen and gradually draining. The skinny lad was a bit taken aback by the stranger's harshness, but he mentally fought hard to brush it off. After a few moments, the bitter man who taunted the boy removed the hood of his cloak to reveal a scarred face. The man had wrinkly, tanned skin and long, dark hair.
By Mel E. Furnish2 months ago in Fiction
The Harmless Detail
Wisdom is in the little details. 🌹🧠🩸 It started with a small rose-like patch on his skin. Reddish-brown, almost like a little tattoo that had etched itself on Barry Leong's right wrist. He glanced at it, barely, then paid it no mind. It itched, very slightly. Nothing worth discussing at the dinner table. Too unnoticeable to interrupt the day.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 months ago in Fiction
