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Center your story around someone who’s at a loss for words, or unable to speak.

Posted in Dramatic on Mar 14, 2025

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✍️ 79 stories

In the Silence of Ashes

Submitted to Contest #294

Jakob’s fingers trembled against the dented tin cup, water sloshing perilously close to the rim. The November air carved his lungs raw, bitter with smoke from chimneys that transformed flesh to ash. His worn shoes navigated the mud between barracks, sidestepping puddles that mirrored a colorless sky.At thirteen, Jakob had perfected invisibility. Three years of silence—not by choice but necessity after witnessing his father’s execution—had rendered him a ghost among the living dead that shuffled through the camp. While other boys his age had ...

53 likes 35 comments 35
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Picture Purrsephone

Submitted to Contest #294

**TW: SUGGESTION OF CHILDHOOD S.A**I was happy to see her again. Happy to be held by her, happy to hear her news, to be opened up with the bicycle repair kit she brought from her other home, the one she shares with her mother, and have my inactive bluetooth module replaced. That was a surprise. How she had found a replacement for something so old, the means by which I used to share my pictures. How she had learned how to install it. She told me her teacher Mr. Frayne had helped, Mr. Frayne who knew about old tech. Mr. Frayne from the pl...

45 likes 45 comments 45
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The Jinxing Hour: Teddy's Version

Submitted to Contest #294

It started with an Eggo waffle.A perfect toaster waffle. Golden, crisp, flawless.The last frozen Eggo in the box, rescued from the depths of an icy, neglected freezer drawer—beneath the abandoned bag of tater tots and the mystery Tupperware no one dared open.A syrupy masterpiece, steaming on a silver platter—aka a well-worn, plastic Toy Story plate. Buzz and Woody—barely visible now—scraped thin by years of utensil scratches and dishwasher cycles.Across the table, Annie and Grace readied for battle.Twin tornadoes in glitter scrunchies.Forks ...

38 likes 37 comments 37
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Sponsa Maritum Manducat

Submitted to Contest #294

Ok, as you all know I am a published author. This is one of my characters, Miss Lacy, making a special appearance for this erotic, horror story. "Fred, that's the couple," said Miss Lacy. Fred and Miss Lacy were on the prowl for their next Friday night...murder night...victims. Fred pulled up, got out, grabbed the couple by their hair and threw them into the van. Now, mind you, Fred is Miss Lacy's henchman. This cat is a true cheesedick. He is 6'7'', plus or minus, no one knows for sure but he is definitely a mammoth of a henchman. Miss Lacy...

36 likes 19 comments 19
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When Words Don't Work, Stop Talking

Submitted to Contest #294

If Birdie Lomax had paid any heed to her appearance, she would, in the music hall vernacular, scrub up well. But she’s tossing chicken scratch in the air, and the light of dawn is at the cruel end of the spectrum. Her hair, still more brown than grey, escapes a poorly-drawn knot at the back and flies in all manner of directions, as if in a mood to fall out with its neighbours. The farmhouse behind her is long and low, full of rooms she never looks in or clears out. Beneath these timbered beams lie cricket bats and exercise books, beds s...

31 likes 35 comments 35
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The Best Gift of the Blarney Stone

Submitted to Contest #294

Sage was as silent as she was beautiful; it was this mystique that kept the boys guessing. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk; she just didn’t want to. Ever. “Just a long drink of water,” her grandmother used to say about her, drawing out the o. Sage loved her worn blue jeans and faded T-shirts, her keds with holes in the toes--old things that flexed comfortably. She loved the farm life and bonded with animals better than humans. When lambing time arrived, she practically lived with the sheep. She frolicked with the lambs and nuzzled her ...

21 likes 15 comments 15
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Are You On Insta?

Submitted to Contest #294

Biting into my sandwich, I began to chew despite the choking sensation. I should have made it lighter, fewer slices of cheese perhaps, but then again, how lean can a sandwich be before it’s just bread on bread? I forced down the bite with a small sip of water.  The whoosh of the Keurig along with the intoxicating aroma taunted me from across the lunchroom. My coworkers casually chatted while selecting their K-cups from the spinning rack, their easy banter keeping me seated in silence.  I made a mental note to or...

20 likes 11 comments 11
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Napkins

Submitted to Contest #294

My father was angry that we had to leave all his napkins behind. Two miles past Quincy with half a tank and no money to get us any further than Burlington, his most pressing concern was going to be what happened to all the napkins he left in the cupboard above the kitchen sink. All hoarders have a worthless item they prefer above all other items--worthless or otherwise. My father’s favorite was a napkin. Any kind of napkin. He collected them the way kids my age at the time collected Pokemon cards. The strange thing about a fixation like this...

19 likes 14 comments 14
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The Art of Unmasking

Submitted to Contest #294

They recoiled from her like she carried a plague, these townsfolk with their secrets festering beneath pressed smiles and starched collars.Elizabeth watched them scatter when she appeared, conversations crumbling to ash, laughter strangling in throats. Their eyes sliced sideways, lips curling with barely concealed revulsion as they sought refuge from her penetrating gaze. She’d spent years trying to earn their acceptance, volunteering at church functions, helping with town festivals, offering shy smiles that were met with turned backs.The cu...

18 likes 15 comments 15
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A night to forget

Submitted to Contest #294

That Friday evening, I called out to my children, inviting them to dinner. The February air was crisp and cool, and everyone was home, filling the house with warmth and laughter. As I began preparing our meal, my husband settled in on the couch, phone in hand, and the kids were engrossed in a Disney movie. I tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had been growing inside me all day. As I walked past the couch, I snuck up behind my husband, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and peeking over at his phone. That's when I saw it – a mes...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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The Last Thing She Said

Submitted to Contest #294

“What’s your name, Sister?”Every sinew, every neuron wanted to comply, but blood dribbled out of my mouth when I parted my lips.Embarrassed, I motioned for another towel from the stacked pile beside the man. He wasn’t dressed as anyone helpful, but I didn’t care. He seemed kind enough—not like the others.He understood my frantic wave and leaned over to grab another shop rag. The first one was still in my hand, soaked and useless.He handed me the thing with remorse arched into his shoulders—much like he did when he opened the door to my inces...

17 likes 2 comments 2
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Lemonade

Submitted to Contest #294

Lemon climbed up the vertical bars, her powerful scaled toes gripping each one effortlessly and pulling her ever closer to her target. Her advance was silent. Not a rustle of a feather nor a click of her sharp talons betrayed her as she crept upward. When she had manoeuvred herself into the perfect position, she reached forward with her impressive beak, slotting it into the space between metal poles and gripped the tiny paper corner that peeked over the edge of her cage. In one swift motion, she flicked it away. Down the label floated, grace...

17 likes 16 comments 16
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Palo Santo

Submitted to Contest #294

NOTE: This story deals with an ugly social bigotry, and thus some terms and phrases may be offensive to some readers.Probably the black pine tree that set her off.It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t asked for it, had basically told the Mexican at the auto “laundry” as nicely as possible to fuck himself with the add-ons.It wasn’t that the thing was so unpleasant or cloying. The mingled pine and lemon and mint virtually vaporized amid the Tropical Mango Eruption Body Bath and aerosolized Warm Vanilla Sugar that formed Nancy’s orbital essence.It ...

15 likes 15 comments 15
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My Name Is Harper Torres

Submitted to Contest #294

In my first public speaking memory, I’m six and holding a teddy bear. His name is Roberto, I explain to the class, and I hold him whenever I feel scared.I pass him around the room, and each of my classmates examines him briefly, unimpressed. They were more impressed with last week’s show-and-tell, when Elijah brought in a fossilized fish, its scales still glimmering under the fluorescent classroom lights.What they don’t know is that if you hold down Roberto’s right paw and speak, he’ll record what you say and repeat it back to you. When Robe...

15 likes 8 comments 8
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Brandy

Submitted to Contest #294

I LOVE him.He’s my favorite.He sings me my own song that soothes my ears. He holds me close and protects me from danger.He is EVERYTHING.We’ve been all around this universe together and I’ll remain by his side until the last star winks out of existence.But sometimes, he’s sad.I curl up beside him and gently nudge his arm, but he still cries.Cries for me.His burly hands bury into my black silky fur and he whispers, “I love you.”My tail thumps. He knows! He knows I love him, so crying is pointless. I sigh, content. “I’ll always take care ...

14 likes 6 comments 6
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