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Center your story around a character who longs for something they’ve lost.

Posted in Dramatic on Nov 15, 2024

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✍️ 86 stories

Tears For A Lost Love

Submitted to Contest #277

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, right at the tippy top of the Misty Mountains, there lived a big bad ogre in a castle guarded by gargoyles and topped off with turrets, towers and all that scary stuff that ogres usually have on their castles. ’Orrible Oswald, as he was known, was so-named as he happened to be a most ’orrible ogre who was just about as ’orrible as ’orrible could be. In fact, he was so ’orrible that none of the other ogres would have anything at all to do with him and he had to live alone. Well, not completely a...

60 likes 57 comments 57
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Longing for Youth Lost

Shortlisted for Contest #277 ⭐️

Kurt looks down on his newborn great-great-grandson. He’s swaddled tightly in a blue blanket. On his head is a little beanie with blue, yellow, and green rocking horses. A Beatrix Potter mobile spins above him. Peter Cottontail and Benjiman Bunny had danced him to sleep with a sweet lullaby. The boy’s face looks peaceful, free of the daily stressors that the adult mind must sort through while slumbering. The baby is still, relaxed, cozy – the perfect sleep. It has been a long time since Kurt has had a sleep even half as good. His bladder isn...

48 likes 25 comments 25
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He's Pointing a Cookie at Me

Submitted to Contest #277

"Knock it off! Fleabags!" Another acorn hit me in the ear. I picked it up and hurled it at the nearest squirrel. It missed."Just what I expected from a baker," the squirrel said. "Go back to the kitchen and bake cookies. It's all you're good for." The squirrel clan laughed.I picked up another acorn and hit the rodent between the eyes. That put an end to his laughter."How's that for a baker?"The squirrel clan redoubled their missile attack. Acorns pelted me on all sides. Squeakings rang out for reinforcements. I just had to poke the bear. I'm...

39 likes 31 comments 31
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Letting Go

Submitted to Contest #277

Allen Moore takes a seat on the couch. He’s wearing the #1 dad t-shirt his kids gave to him six years ago. It has shrunk and he has grown around the middle. He wears it with the worn-out pair of black & blue plaid pajama bottoms his wife has always threatened to throw away. She never did because she knew they were his favorite. An off-white terrycloth robe and moccasin slippers top off the ensemble that compliments his unkempt hair and a week’s worth of stubble. He pours bourbon into a tumbler piled to the top with ice. He stares at the ...

31 likes 10 comments 10
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History repeating

Submitted to Contest #277

There is something so hypnotic about stirring a huge pot of beef chilli. I always love to add a secret ingredient a work colleague shared with me years ago. 'My boyfriend Alex adds a chunky cube of dark chocolate for flavour and it's a game changer.' Not sure its a game changer but there is a richness it certainly adds, and I love serving with fresh coriander, rice and a huge dollop of sour cream. Mwah!I find it so satisfying after a day of work sat at a desk at home to cook for my family. I enjoy everything about the process from visiting t...

23 likes 5 comments 5
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Earth's Quest

Submitted to Contest #277

“Can you lose yourself? Why do I long, a lonely desperation, to find myself again?”“You’re not alone,” my father, Time, answered. “Many feel an emptiness, a search for meaning. Although within your heart you ache, you also aren’t the same as men.” I saw my father as heaven’s strength, but Time was running old. “It’s true, Father, I often lie awake in early hours, my memory’s fingers barely touch the thing. The hound slips its bounds and taunts me in a fog. I know it’s there, but when I grasp the thing firmly, only mist escapes my h...

21 likes 11 comments 11
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Time to Go

Submitted to Contest #277

“Time to go.” Those were the reported last words of Mr. Ġefǣr.  Adrian Rivera sat at his desk on the 50th floor of the One World Trade Center, fingers resting momentarily over the keyboard as he gazed out at the skyline. The vast panorama of New York City spread before him, yet his thoughts drifted back to a time he could barely remember and to a childhood friend he could never forget. Today was, after all, the anniversary. The day that changed the world and his own life forever. On the fateful day of September 11, 2001, Adrian had been...

21 likes 5 comments 5
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In Absentia

Submitted to Contest #277

Beyond the part-demolished, boarded-window disused mills, the weed-strewn patch of land for sale, and the two remaining soot-suffused, red refractory chimneys, the evening clouds are low. They bubble up behind the road-bridge like the mousse of peach champagne. Trees on either side spark the river deep-alive with tall reflections, whilst down the grassy bank on a trail that leads between the heavily scented pines, a man and boy make their way to the water’s edge. The child runs ahead, picks up and skims a stone, its bounce across the surface...

20 likes 4 comments 4
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Greener Grass

Submitted to Contest #277

The realtor hadn’t yet removed the white post from the front lawn when she hooked on a new ‘for sale sign’ to the arm. Another commission on this house was on her mind, two in as many years and the price had risen 10% since she’d last sold it. She didn’t question the seller’s motivation; it wasn’t her business. She was, however, curious as to why Marvin Kaminsky would want to sell it.           “So soon?” she commented when he called her. She’d expected some insight.  &nbs...

18 likes 2 comments 2
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Can't go home.

Submitted to Contest #277

This was very unfortunate. Unfortunate indeed. Her mom warned her that a moment like this would come but she did not believe her. She absolutely would not be admitting that it had happened so soon. How could she? Macy was small for her age, a good centimeter shorter than all of her friends. She wasn’t as “filled out” as they were either. Her mother reassured her that she would catch up with everyone else in the next year or two and positive that by the time she was an adult no one would be able to tell that she had been such a little th...

18 likes 0 comments 0
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One Step at a Time

Submitted to Contest #277

I don’t remember anything. What happened to me?”“You just came out of surgery. The surgeon says you’ll be just fine.”“Surgery? Why did I need surgery?”You really don’t remember the accident?”“No. The last thing I remember is getting dressed for a run. I wasn’t sure if I needed a jacket. You suggested a light shell. I can’t remember if I listened. Sorry babe, you’re usually right but none of this has anything to do with surgery. Did I fall and break something? My legs feel sort of weird. It’s as if they’ve been wrapped in cotton and restraine...

18 likes 2 comments 2
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Burn the Old Blue Bird Down

Submitted to Contest #277

“Hey, Jay, get in here and help me.” A young man with a slight British accent shouted from inside the bus through the open doors of the old Blue Bird. “The sooner we clear out our stuff from this ol’Bird and move into the new bus, the quicker we can hit the road.”On the outside, Jay shot a glance at the gleaming machine to his right as he stood beside the faded yellow school bus with the blue logo above the door. “The new tour bus is a fine piece of machinery, I must admit. And I’m glad we are successful enough to ride in style, but…” He sto...

17 likes 8 comments 8
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The Life of Edward Hughes

Submitted to Contest #277

May 19, 1955 Mandatory counseling is better than jail time, I suppose. I guess I owe the Judge that much. My therapist’s name is Judy. To be honest, I think she’s a quack. Yeah, that’s right Judy. I hope you read this. I don’t want to talk to you. You’re forcing me to write in this stupid journal. Journaling is stupid. And so are you. There… I’ve written something this week. I guess you can sign off on my timesheet. May 26, 1955 Back again. Apparently, writing any words I feel like doesn’t count towards my time served. Yes, that's how I’m ph...

16 likes 8 comments 8
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Lost and Found (and Notarized)

Submitted to Contest #277

I’ve always wanted to be a nun. Growing up Catholic, I admired everything about them. I’d sit in Sunday school and dream of spending my evenings drinking tea and reading Bible passages. I imagined them meeting on sunny mornings and taking slow walks through gardens, pointing out the different hues of yellow and purple in God’s flower creations. Watching the birds, feeding them tiny seeds, and marveling at their ability to fly and sing so beautifully. I longed for their simple modest clothing, habits hiding their hair. Did they have gray hair...

16 likes 6 comments 6
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The Crumple-Rumpled Thing

Submitted to Contest #277

That blasted thing. There never seemed to be an end to the search for it. I sighed. She had lost it nearly four decades ago, yet still I hunted for it like a golden eagle seeking indefensible prey. I remembered it well. She wore it infrequently. The most common place for it was on the dresser, atop the mirrored vanity tray brought from who knows where. I was too young to know that particular thing’s origin story. For that matter, I was too young to have such a singular focus on something that was surely gone forever… I sank deeper into the ...

16 likes 5 comments 5
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