Mitch looked down on the little village on the table. An exact replica of the village where he lived, the village where he was from. He laughed inside.
The little hairs of his so-called friends and family. The objects of people he didn’t even know. The little figures all had names now. Personalities. Hopes and dreams for him to destroy. He hated them. He hated them all.
He picked up one, put it down in the village. Mrs Maple. The old hag down the street. The one who told his parents about the dead little birds. She put her close to James, the limp. He turned the light down to night mode. Tonight they would meet, in the alley behind the church. Where no one ever walked.
He pinched James with a needle…. (more)
This is an interactive story, where you (lucky you!) get to be the protagonist. Read the first part, give me your next move, and I’ll tell you how your story ends. Good luck.
You sit before your desk, squeezing your pain and fears out on the paper, disguised as fiction, told in another person’s life. The horrors of the past, the nights of loneliness.
You’re tired. It’s been a long day, first the day job, then writing till late at night. You put your pen down and go to the kitchen.
You cut a slice of bread and get a glass of water. Take you shoes off, put them under your bed. It’s a warm night, and you leave your window open… (more)
-We did it, we’re cross the border! We’re rich!
The two rugged men made a high five.
-What’s that on the sky?
-Looks like a seagull to me. But… It looks big, no?
The seagull came closer.
-Way too big, Ron said. -Damn, it looks like a plane!
The seagull circled over the truck, as if it was looking for something. It dived.
-No! Let go! It’s mine!
-Not any more it ain’t! Give it!
-Please… You don’t know the danger you are…
A voice thundered from hills on the other side of the valley.
-Is that man bothering you, Elisa…?
-N-no! No! Everything is fine! We’re.. we’re just… flirting! Flirting, yes, that’s it! We’re flirting.
-Are you sure? He seems rather aggressive… (more)
The goats were running up the hill, looking back over their shoulder. The noise from the engine far away was loud and frightening. A giant machine. The driver… Its kind had come from far away, somewhere beyond this world. They were huge like gods. Terrifying.
The goatherds walked slowly up the hill to find shelter for the night.
-The sound, one of them said to the other. -It’s getting closer… (more)
-She’s back! The Mushroom Picker! She’s back!
-Oh my great fungus! Run! Hide!
-Wait, Surnbok said thoughtfully. -I might have an idea.
He ran through the little mushroom forest as fast as he could with his little tail body. The others ran back and forth in panic, screaming, crying.
The first mushroom was picked. No one lived there, but it did give good shadow down by the little puddle.
Another mushroom went up in the air.
-Nooooo!!! My house! My new sofa! Bambar ran towards the mushroom house.
The others held him back.
-There’s nothing you can do! Shell take you as well!
Surnbok had something white in his hand… (more)