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Write a story about a character who acts like they ‘don’t have feelings’ — except they’re just putting up a facade.

Posted in Character on Nov 11, 2022

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✍️ 45 stories

Resting She-Devil Face

Shortlisted for Contest #172 ⭐️

Thank heavens you’ve brushed away that nauseating carpet of dust from my face. I can finally breathe again! The only thing separating us now is the thin sheet of picture-frame glass between your gaze and my photograph. Of course, time also stands between us. An entire one-hundred-forty-eight years since my photo was taken—a stretch long enough for fashion, language, and customs to have evolved beyond my recognition. What little I understand of this modern world comes from the conversations I’ve overheard; the little bits and pieces I’ve gath...

26 likes 22 comments 22
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The Crafting of Fadhilla - a LitRPG Story

Submitted to Contest #172

Name: Fadhilla MoshiTime Remaining: 6 minutesA graduate of World Altruism’s Vision program, Fadhilla Moshi, sat in a computer center in Tanzania’s central city of Dar Es Salaam and had only 6 minutes left to live, but she found time for her father.His sad voice came over the line, “I hope they let you return home, someday.”“Probably not anytime soon, Papa. We Chagga are too good at this, and after all, you are the one that sent me here, weren’t you?”“Our family is proud of you.”A telltale vibration in her headgear let her know the explosive ...

26 likes 17 comments 17
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Recall

Submitted to Contest #172

Trey’s breakfast was ready a few seconds after seven-thirty; efficiency down 0.002 percent. I made a note of it in my logs and continued to my next task.“Good morning, sir,” I said. “Breakfast is served. I will prepare a warm towel for your shower.”“Schedule?” he asked.“Meeting, nine-thirty to eleven with the board. Lunch date at twelve with Leo.” It was all I could do not to spit out the name. I couldn’t stand the man. “Nothing scheduled after. Will you be returning home early this evening?”“Home at six. I want salmon for dinner.”“Yes, sir....

22 likes 17 comments 17
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The Substance of Things Hoped For

Submitted to Contest #172

Jolik Corona had seven kills under his belt before he turned fourteen. By the time he was thirty, he had reached triple digits in this area and was a legend on the Temporal Anomaly Force. Still, ninety-seven percent of the population died quietly. Despite their best efforts, the TAF hadn’t found a way to go back in time to stop the scourge of the NCC-1701 virus. No one could find the exact origin of the virus, for it had spread quickly, and it seemed to start on every continent at approximately the same time. What was known about the virus ...

22 likes 28 comments 28
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As if I care.

Submitted to Contest #172

Hmphhh. That was my attitude towards all of them. They didn't care about me, so why should I care about them? Most people see me as a happy go lucky kinda girl. Always the one planning the outings, the one who is the life of the party. If I had a dime for every time someone mentioned how strong I was, and how it seemed I just take everything in stride I might be able to afford the counselor I so desperately need. But the truth is, I'm really screwed up. No one knows the depth of the darkness I hold inside. Because, let's face it, no one real...

15 likes 3 comments 3
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A FULL LIFE

Submitted to Contest #172

A FULL LIFE            Dr. Samuel swished the dividing curtain closed as he left. Nolla straightened the sheets and folded the frail hands over the ribcage. She reached in the bedside table for a comb and tried to arrange the hair. Nolla tidied the bedside area and made the woman’s remains as presentable as possible; it had been a long battle and Mrs. Grant’s gaunt face looked battle worn.            “Mrs. Grant’s family will ...

14 likes 6 comments 6
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THE BALLOON BOY

Submitted to Contest #172

Jasper Engstrom frowned as he placed his phone back in the charging station. He crossed the living room to the large front picture window and gazed out at the private road that ran in front of their house. It was a beautiful Autumn day. The trees were in peak form, alive with vibrant splashes of orange, red and yellow. The leaves hadn’t begun to actually fall, so the brilliant green of the well-tended Engstrom lawn completed the perfectly seasonal setting.  Jasper was looking but he wasn’t seeing what was in fro...

14 likes 8 comments 8
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My Acacia

Submitted to Contest #172

Mentions of domestic abuse, emotional manipulation, self-harm and suicide references, mental health issues and mild swearing. No one sees the wolf but me; cobalt grey fur and piercing eyes, one blue and one green. She’s gorgeous so it seems fitting that her name is Acacia meaning ‘queen of the wolves.’ Red pearls bubbled up through the tears in my skin, melting and merging into one another to create a crimson river. Over time they would knit together and form silver lines on my once untarnished canvas. I am simply paper that has been paint...

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the effigy

Submitted to Contest #172

I'm a rock. At least that's what I tell myself in my head. Over and over. Sometimes I like to believe it’s the truth. I’m a rock. Not “I feel like a rock” or “I’m like a rock.” Just “I am a rock”. A creature carved from hardened magma, trapped indefinitely in a moment that will never exist again. I am made of stone and nothing can hurt me.  I am heartless. Capable of vapid thought and insipid rationality, of cold callousness as an inanimate object. I am cruel to the point of monstrosity. Harsh like the jagged edges of a serrated k...

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INNER BEAUTY

Submitted to Contest #172

John Stenheimer wanted to kill someone. And not just anyone. He wanted to kill a Black man or a Jew. Either one would do; it didn’t really matter. As the leader of a local neo-Nazi group in a Southern state, he had to set a certain example for his followers. He had just earlier given a powerful, riveting speech to his acolytes, leading them in the chant, “Blood and soil! Blood and soil! Jews and Negros will not replace us!” John Stenheimer had all the visible requisites of a neo-Nazi. His blond hair was styled in a crewcut. He had the ...

14 likes 8 comments 8
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Green tea

Submitted to Contest #172

It is 6:00 am, no one is at work for another hour, except for me and a few others who were sent here to serve. I go to the room where morning meetings occur and I start my cleaning immediately, I sterilize the surfaces, vacuum, put new flowers, I even start on the morning coffee. Here at firm, everyone has their own preferences and it is quite complicated: black coffee, coffee with sugar and milk, cinnamon, pumpkin spice, the list goes on. However, there is one cup of green tea I serve every morning and it is for her, Meredith, tall, blue-ey...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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The Witches Contract

Submitted to Contest #172

Her wicked eyes brimmed with angry tears as she put the final nail into the door, sealing it shut. The entrance of her home. Or at least what she called home for the last blissful two years. She was tired of running. Tired of creating another version of herself. Or at least a version of herself she wouldn't be able to touch for two hundred years or so. She usually had fifteen to twenty before people started staring at her too long. Holding their children a little tighter as she walked by.  Something happened this time, She though...

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Crying Count

Submitted to Contest #172

“Maria Lobell, it’s your turn,” a tall woman announced from the doorway. My hands gripped tighter to the satchel I was carrying. It’s now or never, I thought. I had been out of work for months, barely scraping by in dad's basement.  The smiling lady held the door open as I stepped into the carpeted room. Three cries, that's it. No wonder this woman has such a high position here; she is strong. I tried to cover the floating number over my head, an embarrassing seven. Only three more days till January first, then a clean slate I reminded...

13 likes 4 comments 4
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You know it to be true

Submitted to Contest #172

Sometimes I feel like a foreigner in my own mind, or like my mind is the foreing place in and of itself. I often feel lost. Everyone else instinctively knows what is expected of them, how to feel and how to react. It’s as if they have a knack for life that some of us will never master. Do you know how often I find myself apologising for something, not knowing what exactly I’m apologising for? The closest thing to an answer that I’ve been able to come up with, is that I’m apologising for my existence. Feeling. This is a word I have trouble wi...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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Taste Memory

Submitted to Contest #172

The dog days of summer were fading, and with it came her 22nd birthday. Fat, noisy drops of rain punished the single window of her basement apartment. A single rotating fan was too clogged with thick gray dust to be of much use in the damp stifling unit, but she ran it anyway, hoping to trick her mind into thinking she was being cooled. Early in the morning she had risen to complete two errands on the town’s bus system which was free of charge to all students at the local university including her. She returned before 9 a.m. with two grocery ...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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