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Write about a character who feels like they're cut off from something.

Posted in Angst on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 54 stories

28 Letters

Winner of Contest #115 🏆

A gem can not be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials. Sejong swept his books off the shelf. Rain pelted the world outside. The king opened one of his many works, the spine of it splitting under his force, and read off a page. Nongsa jikseol, methods of cultivation in agriculture. A guidebook to farming in Korea’s geography. Words that could keep his people from famine.He threw it into the rain. It splashed against the mud-coated field, water distorting the ink. A second book followed, sliding against the ground, ...

273 likes 138 comments 138
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Phantom Burn

Submitted to Contest #115

As the doctor prods away, I stare up at the ceiling, the red light of the smoke detector slowly blinking. “Already a year,” I mutter under my breath. “Hm?” Dr. Sharma looks up at me, wrapping what remains of my arm in a tight cloth. “Oh! A year since… yes, and in this year, you’ve healed great. The skin has formed over the cut well, and you’ve regained mobility in the elbow too.” “And what good is that when It’s not attached to anything?” I ask as he pushes away from the floor on his office chair, the wheels squeaking as he re...

37 likes 10 comments 10
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Schizo

Submitted to Contest #115

(Content Warning: Blood, Gore, Murder, Language.) Some wounds will never heal. That’s why I carry a roll of duct tape wherever I go. I’ll just bleed out until there’s nothing left of my soul. Sure, you could make changes like using super glue instead, but in the end, you realize that you control nothing in life. Yeah, I know I sound like a complete narcissistic ass for saying that, but you don’t know the whole story. When I was born, a Voodoo Man saw fit to place a curse on me. My mother told me all about it when I was just th...

28 likes 10 comments 10
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The "M" in FOMO stands for Mars

Shortlisted for Contest #115 ⭐️

The “M” in FOMO stands for Mars By Laura Pamenter I roll over in my cot and look out my oval window to the dusty red horizon. My bedsheets are rough on my bare arms, as they’re made from scratchy canvas, locally grown on our cotton-field where I earn my barely liveable salary.            “Be a part of the new world!” they said. “Be the future!”            This doesn’t feel like the future; creaky wooden beds, cloth tunics, and cha...

25 likes 12 comments 12
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The Fire Within

Submitted to Contest #115

Rain glanced out the window blocked by gray metal plates with holes so small she could barely see the Sequoia forest they came here to help protect. Though she just spent twenty-four hours immersed in the open ashen area mopping up, sitting in the inmate vehicle confined her spirit every time. It didn’t help that she was the only woman crammed back there with thirteen raucous guys. The other woman, Alma, sat up front with the fire captain. The louder the twenty-two year old boys grew, the more quietly Rain sunk into her earphones.The wild la...

18 likes 9 comments 9
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A Two Way Mirror

Submitted to Contest #115

            A Two Way Mirror As I walk down the street, I can hear the droning sound of German night bombers getting closer. The sirens soon screech out for everyone to rush to an air-raid shelter. Suddenly, I listen to the high-pitched whistle of bombs as they fall everywhere, smashing into and blowing up people’s homes. Civilians run screaming as they try to find somewhere safe to hide. Then - I hear a strange high-pitched whistling sound, “boom!” A bomb destroys a row of terraced...

18 likes 2 comments 2
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Blood Moon

Submitted to Contest #115

“Blood Moon” by Elizabeth Fenley I hate people. So breakable. The skin under my tattoo starts to itch again. I try not to scratch it. I recite the lyrics to Tool’s “Eulogy” in my head but give up after “You claimed all this time that you would die for me” and dig my chewed up nails across it until it bleeds. I tug my black sleeve down over the blood. I don’t bother looking at the tattoo or the damage. In an hour it will be healed-- again. Tonight is the blood moon—and the vernal equinox. Intense, in a bad way. And why my tattoo itches...

17 likes 11 comments 11
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Denial Is Not A River

Submitted to Contest #115

Nat desperately tried to maintain control of the motorcycle, now slowing while fishtailing slightly in the sandy loam. The headlights coming at him, one car passing another on the narrow highway, had mandated the desperate maneuver at over 70 mph. He had no other choice but to angle off the pavement and let the classic BMW twin slow itself. Any application of the brakes, front or rear, would likely throw the cycle into a slide he might not recover from. He had no desire to end up bruised or broken in the dark, this far from anywhere. Just pu...

16 likes 5 comments 5
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The Family Tree's Final Apple

Submitted to Contest #115

The Family Tree’s Final Apple It’s the first Tuesday of October when he finds her on his porch.            Sheltering herself, really, from the rain. It’s the first time it has rained since that big storm in July that knocked the power out down his street and the next and even the one after that. And even then this storm is nothing compared to those roaring winds and booming thunders; this is the kind of rain that blends in – the kind of spitting rain that feels more like his late Aun...

16 likes 1 comment 1
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The In Crowd

Submitted to Contest #115

Cheyenne didn’t know why, but she always felt cut off from the popular crowd.Sure she was pretty enough, that wasn’t it. Her mixed ancestry of Thai and Native American guaranteed her high cheek bones, and smooth olive skin. Her piercing hazel eyes and radiant smile made her irresistible. In fact, it was arguable that she was among the prettiest young women at UCLA.But no matter how much she tried it never seemed to be enough. Whether it was binging the latest shows that were all the buzz on Netflix, or the other streaming giants, or buying t...

15 likes 4 comments 4
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Not what I signed up for.

Submitted to Contest #115

CW: Lost Child, Police Brutality, COVID *The following story was inspired by recent events in Melbourne, Australia and mixes events from my own life with dramatisation inspired by the story of former Acting Senior Sergeant Krystle Mitchell* For the desk of the Chief Commissioner, When I was a young girl, my father took me into the city. There was a parade on and he wanted to see the marching band. He and I got separated in the crowd and I couldn’t find him. I don’t remember how old I was. When Mum tells the story I was six, but when Da...

14 likes 1 comment 1
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Cut Off

Submitted to Contest #115

We wanted this day to be so memorable that the experience would last a lifetime. A legend to tell our children and grandchildren. The pressure to come up with an idea was great and our parameters made it almost impossible to achieve.Our last year in high school on senior cut day (unofficial of course), my friends and I decided to plan something adventurous. Living near the Atlantic Ocean had its benefits. Freedom to walk on the clean, soft, warm sand in the summers. Digging toes into each step feeling the gentle coarse rub of the golden gran...

13 likes 2 comments 2
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Alone

Submitted to Contest #115

I was just following my routine, walking up the stairs, and out of the subway station on my phone as always. I’m not really sure how people used to pass the time without a smartphone and a solid pair of earbuds. There’s a reason NYC is the city that never sleeps, and even in the frigid mornings, the sheer decibels that everyday traffic reaches truly is a feat. Us office dwellers need the ways we can tune out the various tourists, honking, and yelling in the streets. What I didn’t know, is that my method worked so well. Because on this day as...

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Bread

Submitted to Contest #115

//Trigger Warnings for: War, Death, Mental Illness// “You’re scared of that, aren’t you?” Thomas can hear his fiance's voice over a blurred world around him. The most audible sound is his heart beating out of his chest. His breathing hastens as he can feel the air slowly draining from his surroundings. In his mind, there is a clash of falling glass and what sounds like gunshots. Everything further disappears as he feels his esophagus almost close like a hole in the earth. It is the fading voice of his fiance and the repeated banging of bul...

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The Daughter Who Disappeared

Submitted to Contest #115

Driving late at night—empty streets, neon lights, and crisp air—is the only way I can calm my mind. Ever since I got a ticket for speeding my parents only let me drive to work and school, but my friends are having a party and I can't miss it. It's my childhood best friend, Dylan, seventeenth birthday and I promised I would be there.  It started at 10:30 but these kinds of parties run late anyway, so I quietly open my window, place my foot on the nearby tree, and before I start to climb down it, I close my window so there’s only a sliver...

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