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  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    “Don’t you get it?” my fellow comrade croaks in a mere whisper, reaching up shakily to touch my hair peeking out beneath my hood. Pain ripples across her pale, bloodied face. “Callisto,” I sob, not bothering to suppress my shaking body, “Don’t speak.” My voice too is a no more th...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    Oh, I never asked you for your decision. The difference between right and wrong. Whether it’s moral or not. I just like to have a little fun. Isn't that a good enough reason? I lick my lips, feel the blood dripping off my knife. One, two, three, splatter of blood. I said to not ask que...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    I am the story teller. So let me tell you a story. There is a child that is to grow up and become a well-known, cherished man. That man will be famous for the day he- oops. Sorry, that is not a story I can tell. But there is another I can tell you on this dark, warm night around this blazing cam...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    As soon as I laid my eyes on the girl, I knew there was something different about her. She had a shy, quiet smile that stood out like no other, an adventurous glint in her hazel eyes, and an exciting air about her. But that wasn’t what caught my eye. Despite her enthusiasm, I could sense the ha...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    “Name?” the slick machine voice asks. “Vega,” I reply. “Full name?” the robot asks. I’m sure the operators behind the robot might be a little ticked off now, but what I’ll say in a moment is worth their time in my opinion. “Vega Thorne.” “Of?” the robot prompts. ...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    The wafting smoky air is expected, naturally, and neither am I unfazed by it. The drunk commotion surrounding my informer and I is also a regular occurrence at our location. The Parlor is an excellent place, for there is always a customer at one point or another who knows good bounty. But really...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    My face, my mother always claims, is the most gorgeous she has ever seen. But that’s what mothers are supposed to say. By the time I was ten, I begged her to stop saying such things. I have convinced myself that I am not perfect. That no one is perfect. No one can be the most beautiful ever, becau...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Any real night wouldn't be spent at the rundown café with flickering lights and cheesy decorations Any real night wouldn't have a stale, suffocating odor torn leather booth seats and bolted-down stools Any real night doesn't taste of yesterday's leftovers cherry ...

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