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Write about someone who decides to make their own version of something old.

Posted in Character on Mar 17, 2023

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✍️ 36 stories

The New Language

Submitted to Contest #190

We called it Yopanko. No real reason why, other than the fact that it was a word we could all pronounce equally. There were no S sounds for Georgie's tongue to mash into lisps. No Rs to trigger Kelvin's Elmer Fudd syndrome. And no Ls to make me self-conscious about my hand-me-down accent, the byproduct of my mother's emigration from Nagoya, Japan to Seattle, Washington. Our speech impediments, our insecurities, our home and school troubles—suddenly none of that seemed to matter.What mattered was that Yopanko was ours, a new language entirely...

52 likes 56 comments 56
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Amazing Grace

Submitted to Contest #190

**Content Warning: murderous, psychopathic behaviour**“It’s terrifying, Mercy,” says Mrs Stafford, when she finally finds her voice. “It must be taken down.”I don’t understand. It’s a magnificent scene. A vista of 17th century London is stapled across the wall-mounted display board, crammed full of rickety wooden houses cut from corrugated cardboard. Tissue paper tongues of flames engulf the buildings, sending sequined sparks soaring into a soot-black sky. Panic-stricken Londoners flee the inferno in a steady stream, their crayoned mouths in...

38 likes 31 comments 31
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Flightless

Shortlisted for Contest #190 ⭐️

There was a time when men could fly— Bobby pressed his makeshift goggles to his freckled sunburned face, the ones he’d rigged from transparent artifacts he’d found floating on the salt flats.—a time when people sped from continent to continent faster than the wind—Bobby shoved his hands into gloves made of ancient vinyl he’d harvested himself from the buried city. —skimming over empty oceans, gliding over barren mountains, traversing the endless deserts without even touching the sand—Bobby puffed his cheeks out and climbed int...

37 likes 38 comments 38
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Working On It

Submitted to Contest #190

Working on It(Meant to offend no one, or, at least, all equally:)Narrator: Once upon a time...Director: Hold up there! I believe I have heard that line before. Who first said that? We can't just plagiarize someone's work.Narrator: It is a common start to many stories. So well used the statute of limitations has certainly expired. It enjoys common-use status by now. No danger of being sued.Director: Well, I still don't like it. Above all else we must be original. Who wrote this line of crap, anyway?Narrator: Says here the play came from B.S.W...

25 likes 31 comments 31
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The Replica

Submitted to Contest #190

Droplets of paint flick onto the floor as the brush moves along the canvas. A concentrated expression covers my face, and the tip of my tongue sticks out the side of my mouth as I focus on my work. Every detail needs to be perfect, just so, exactly like the original. My hand quivers under the pressure, and in one unintentional motion I accidentally spread the paint 1/10th of an inch too far in the wrong direction.  Dammit. I sigh, grabbing the edge of the half completed canvas and tossing it into the piles with the rest of my failur...

18 likes 5 comments 5
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The Second Symposium

Shortlisted for Contest #190 ⭐️

Last night was something of a disaster.  It started out well enough. Alexander and I had gone to see a play put on by his twin sister, Eleanor, at the university’s theatrical club. I remember him coming to my door and asking if I wanted to come along in his usual stiff, matter-of-fact manner. He kept his hands behind his greatcoat and rocked slightly on his brogue heels, evidently feeling faintly awkward but nonetheless maintaining his rigid posture and keeping conviction in his clipped voice.   They were st...

17 likes 7 comments 7
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A Love Letter....

Submitted to Contest #190

Finally, Teagan had reached 21 years of age. She would now open this sacred letter, which her mother had written to her. This was composed straight after Teagan was born. Teagan polished her glasses and began to read. "Dear Teagan, This is Mummy's love letter to you. I will present it to you on the momentous event of your 21st birthday. As I write, I am resting here, feeling euphoric. I am gazing in wonder that I have made a human. You look so perfect. I checked. You have all your digits, and look supremely content. The fairies have brought...

15 likes 2 comments 2
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THE KILLED VERSION RISES

Submitted to Contest #190

Monday, 03/20/2023 as if coming out of a trance, eager to reconnect with sources and facts, diligently managed the cluttered Gmail inbox. Then one of those e-mails woke me up so rousingly that it lit the fuse for the powder barrel of the third and final act of my life.He invited me to an international competition of authors and offered me some prompts, among which the one that saddened me proposed that I retell an old story, from my point of view.It was presumably the coincidence of divine providence with my attention and I felt, then, the a...

15 likes 1 comment 1
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Summer Lace

Submitted to Contest #190

“Will you marry me?” my boyfriend asked me several months ago, and of course, I agreed. He is a great man. He works a basic job, but it pays the bills. He makes more than me, teacher pay is its own category of shitty, but I like my job. We decided to have our wedding in the summer so that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a substitute, and we could immediately take our honeymoon. July 17th feels a long way away and right around the corner. I have less than two months to alter my mother’s wedding dress. She married my father in 1989, an...

14 likes 0 comments 0
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Past Over

Submitted to Contest #190

It’s the smells I remember most clearly. Sunday afternoons were reserved for Grandma and Grandpa, for visits to The Home. Not their home, mind you, but The Home, with all the finality, rigidity, and coldness those capital letters exude, the “H”resembling a hospital bed. Their home had been a place of warmth with the wonderful smells of baking, fresh flowers, and various lotions and creams. The Home smelled of urine, disinfectant, and decay. What had once been soft and inviting, with colorful scattered rugs and large deep pillo...

14 likes 7 comments 7
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This Ain't Kansas

Submitted to Contest #190

‘What do you call that thing when it’s a follow up to a book or a movie?’‘You mean… a sequel?’‘Yeah, that’s it. So I’ve been thinking about it. What we need is a sequel to that one about the girl, the dog, the tin man, the scarecrow, the lion, the two witches and a wizard.’‘A sequel to the Wizard of Oz? Are you crazy? You ain’t no Frank Baum.’‘I mean, isn't anyone curious what happened after? It’s all very well they got what they wanted, but sometimes things don’t work the way people think. You know, unintended consequences. That’s a very un...

13 likes 9 comments 9
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Gigi's Dress

Submitted to Contest #190

Abby cradled the old bronze picture frame in her hands, contemplating the photo it held. Her fingers ran absently along the filigree, darkened with patina for as long as she could remember, in the same way her mother’s did when she held the same frame. She never had the chance to meet the woman in the photo, but she had heard so many stories about her while growing up that Abby felt like she had known her all her life. Even though the black and white photo was faded and had multiple cracks running through it, the woman’s sharp features a...

13 likes 1 comment 1
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The Farewell Dress

Submitted to Contest #190

The Farewell Dress Lisa Christman Carla was a seamstress at heart from the time she was 10 years old. She loved sewing with a passion, and she was not afraid to admit it to anyone. Some artists used paint or clay, even paper or wood as a medium, but her medium of choice was fabric. She adored the look and feel of the different fabrics and all the possibilities that could come from them. When she created a new piece of clothing it was not just something to wear, but a unique piece of art. She never had to worry about what her next project wou...

12 likes 1 comment 1
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Frederick's Wristwatch

Submitted to Contest #190

Frederick stood rooted to the spot in front of The Persistence of Memory. A group of students stood idly at the next painting over. An old man sat on the bench behind him. Frederick guessed they were all waiting for him to move out of the way of the painting so they could have a turn. Alas, Frederick could not. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the painting. It ignited a fire in him. He could feel it from the tips of his fingers to the pit of his stomach. Frederick was intent on mastering time. He looked at his watch, then back at the p...

12 likes 0 comments 0
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VIRUS 2057

Submitted to Contest #190

Jefferson City, Missouri Outlander Territories  UNDERGROUND BUNKER   December 9, 2055   5:11 am  Cassie pushed through the pain, her brow damp, her face fixed in a look of grim determination. She willed herself to stay quiet, but her contractions were fast and furious now.  The dimly lit room was a depraved space to give birth to a baby. But the little family of three, soon to be four, had few options at this point.    The doula kneeled in the tight spa...

12 likes 4 comments 4
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