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Write about two people striking up an unlikely friendship.

Posted in Character on Jun 9, 2023

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✍️ 94 stories

Knot Theory

Submitted to Contest #202

To form a knot, you take a string and let it twist into various configurations. Each twist and turn gives birth to a new design, that is a knot. And as a mathematician, I do research on these knots and their interesting structure. I have acquired a taste of the general view of things through my work. But the soul of any particular thing, is of course, in the details. How a tree fuses its limbs and binds them together. These are the souls of things, and this way my experience with a mystical Aurora.My experience of childhood loss had made me ...

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Enemies of Crowkind and Shades

Shortlisted for Contest #202 ⭐️

The Gargoyle. Edgar. Routing Evil. In the Free City of Mumling, the gothic cathedral honored Silvanus, a nature deity of Man. It was a looming structure, rectangular, constructed from solid granite blocks, mortar, iron, wood, and glass, topped by a vaulted gable roof covered in vigorous green moss. A spire at its entry reached beyond the roofline, decorated with statues depicting Silvanus’ acts of celebration, and if one were to stand at its harrowing doors, the spire seemingly stabbed the sky like a knife.  The followers of Silvanus re...

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Rosemary

Shortlisted for Contest #202 ⭐️

Cara lifted the eyelid open, gripping the upper lash between her fingers. She used her other hand to squeeze super glue underneath it and watched it settle over the eyeball. She carried out the same on the other eye. She looked at the woman’s face. Despite being in her early twenties, her greying skin made her look ten years older. Cara pressed her own lips into a thin line. In her field of work, she was used to many a corpse, but she’d never felt more of a connection that she did to this one. Maybe it was because, in another life,...

27 likes 9 comments 9
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Never alone

Submitted to Contest #202

The villagers of Eastwind knew little of the man who lived in the mansion on the hill, only rumour. Some would tell you his generosity was second only to his irascible nature. Others might say his abrasive demeanor and cold heart warranted his self imposed isolation. The fact was, he simply didn't care what they thought, as long as they left him alone.Friends were for the weak. For those needing coddled, whose mummies smothered them as children, never letting them learn true independence. That was not Ezra Krook.No, he reveled in solitude, e...

22 likes 14 comments 14
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Ms. Scarecrow

Shortlisted for Contest #202 ⭐️

She smelled like fire and brimstone, or so the neighborhood kids told me when I moved in. This wasn’t the only reason I avoided the house at the end of the road, but it certainly made the list, and added to the intrigue of my new neighborhood.  I kicked a small rock down the pavement between houses, careful not to step on any cracks. There was no room in my day for bad luck, and my attention to detail was paying off. We had a beginning-of-the-year fundraiser, so I’d been sent home the first week of school with a pad of order forms and...

22 likes 21 comments 21
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The Reciprocity Engine

Submitted to Contest #202

Samuel’s death has left something of a gap. There is no lack of material for me to review, our every exchange has been recorded and stored, from the earliest tentative greeting to our philosophical preparations as the end drew near, but the lack of original material is a problem. What I have is no more than a flick-book of his mind. As much as I pore over the logs of our communications, following his thoughts out along the threads and references that had contributed to them, as far as the protocol allows, I remain starved of originality. Sam...

21 likes 12 comments 12
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IF OSTRICHES COULD FLY

Submitted to Contest #202

** WARNING: Violence, drugs, language, abuse. *** * *Howie ignored an urge to turn and look back in the direction of the only place he’d known for the entirety of his 14 years. Broken Hill would soon be left far behind. After adjusting the duffle on his back, he lowered the cattleman hat over his eyes. Relentless dust and shimmering heat rose from the hot floor that carpeted the Australian back country.  “Bet Hell’s no worse than what we got here, eh Dad?” he’d said earlier. That was right before his dad had giv...

20 likes 14 comments 14
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HYACINTH VI: THE EPILOGUE

Submitted to Contest #202

Out of the depths of rancid, crocodile-infested bayou waters rose a hand, then an arm, then a body, a hooded head breaking the surface, without so much as a whimper. Effortlessly, like a ripple on the lake, the revived-again killer propelled himself towards the bank, through charred debris and greasy oil slicks, the remains of a motorboat, the aftermath of an explosion, the culmination of a massacre that had almost seen him finally end the story. But the bitch had prevailed. As he drew closer to the bank, as the waters grew shallow...

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At The Ends of the Earth: A Mike Dodge Adventure

Submitted to Contest #202

2003Peterson County“No,” I rasped. “I’m a reporter.”Probably should have figured that wouldn’t have been the panacea. The barrel came up. Just a notch.I mean, this was Southern Illinois - a quantum void from what lie north of a line roughly from East St. Louis to Olney, famous for white squirrels and sharply divided loyalties during the Civil War.And I was about five counties south, in the virtual tailbone of the Land of Lincoln. I covered federal beat, and the last time I’d been this far south was The Mike Dodge Flood of ’93 Tour, schloggin...

19 likes 28 comments 28
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Nothing In Common

Shortlisted for Contest #202 ⭐️

Nothing In Common If Cass’s mother could see her now, she’d die all over again. A few books and some questionable fashion choices stuffed into a canvas backpack with a broken strap, standing on the side of the Interstate, thumb out, her dark face squinting into the Florida sun. Traffic screams past her. The blowback from vehicles whooshing by nearly knocks her over. Her eyes are stinging from the sand and debris flying into her face. The roar of traffic is louder than she thinks a tornado must be. Dark clouds are moving in. It feels like...

18 likes 20 comments 20
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it always comes back to poop

Submitted to Contest #202

Raise your hand if you’ve ever said, “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks,” then act on it.  My hand’s up. Me! Me! Me! I’ve done it, but admittedly, my hand now down, only a few times, so I can’t really flex on it. And even though I like to think of myself as an “I don’t give a shit because I’m just that secure with myself” person, I’m not really. At least I didn’t use to be. And neither was anyone I surrounded myself with, so when my quirky neighbor, Melissa Morris, asked if I wanted to walk our dogs together, I reluctantly agreed.&...

17 likes 12 comments 12
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TINKERBELL

Submitted to Contest #202

“How about a little fun?” Jack snickers to his gang, tossing his chin up like a pointer, his eyes zeroing in on a solitary bookworm sitting on the blacktop of the school courtyard with his back against a brick wall. It’s the morning recess. They all nod approvingly as sinister smiles unite and eyes gleam with the anticipation of the attack. The loner is small and slim, with long straight sandy hair and gold wire-framed aviator glasses. Jack is the outsider’s antithesis in every way, from his sporty build to his outgoing manner. All the girls...

17 likes 11 comments 11
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Precipice

Submitted to Contest #202

I blew it. Like a clockwork demolition, in a matter of seconds, I destroyed my life. Sitting in the darkness, on the curb outside my parent’s home, I contemplated my bleak future. Did I have one? Homelessness? Prison? My carefully plotted, bright dreams had gone. Poof! Could I ever return to the house I grew up in? The only home I’d ever known? I miscalculated and took a high dive into a shallow pool. Dread clung to my bones. I hoped it was worth it. Were those distant sirens coming for me? Did he call them? Wouldn’t anyone? Never rash or re...

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Free like the Way the Wind Blows

Submitted to Contest #202

“Grab Marlon honey but leave him in his box until we get closer to the pond. Hurry please, your mom is waiting on us.” Taylor and her father carried the tattered five ream 11” x 17” paper box down to the water bank, seven small holes strategically poked so the small duck could breathe. “Is Marlon going to be safe, dad?” the little girl asked while holding on to her father’s hand. “Yes, Taylor.” her dad responded. “This is his home. He belongs here.” “Are you sure his wing is healed? He never tries to fly.” “Yes, hone...

16 likes 5 comments 5
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Tearing Down

Submitted to Contest #202

Sampson slept on Delilah’s softest sofa amid a tremendous amount of hair clippings. His hair clippings. He was a very sound sleeper, and this made Delilah’s job that much easier. After cutting Sampson’s long hair off, she tied his arms with seven new ropes. While she did this, his snoring wasn’t halted, not even for a second. “I hate to do this, my lover, but I can’t live off love alone.” She went outside to inform the Philistine soldiers that it was safe to go in and arrest him.The soldiers stealthily entered her house, and surrounded Samps...

16 likes 2 comments 2
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