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Make a character perform a ceremony to set something or someone free.

Posted in Dramatic on Jun 30, 2023

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✍️ 54 stories

The Real Meaning of Love.

Submitted to Contest #205

It was happy hour again. The week had rolled by, dramatically. Nate sat at the bar, he was the wise old owl of his engineering firm. His juniors were pussy footing around him, trying not to be insensitive. Nate's week had not kicked off so well, not great at all. On Sunday, his long time society wife had sat him down, for the 'talk'. She had fallen in love with a society doctor, the man of her dreams. Nate felt absolutely nothing, as she left the scene with her designer suitcases. His wife no longer had anything to say, neither did he. Nate ...

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Dust to Dust

Submitted to Contest #205

I remember the night we left Haiti like a dream. It was a hot and sticky August night, and my little brother and I slept huddled together on the same bed. He had wet his bed the day before, so his mattress was still leaning on the patio railing to dry. My mother woke us hurriedly, shaking our legs in hushed tones. “We have to go,” she urged. “Grab your things,” she continued as she walked to the other end of the room. I remember thinking, what things? What time is it? But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I saw our school b...

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Untithed Earnings for Starbucks and Smashing the Patriarchy

Submitted to Contest #205

I’ve never been that into weddings. Like when I was little I didn’t dream of myself in white and put my mom’s sheer scarves over my face and take those weird steps where you bring your foot next to the first and stop before you take the next one. And now I’m actively against them: they’re this weird relic of a patriarchal society where the dad gives the daughter (whom he owns!) to the husband because he needs an heir factory and the dad doesn’t want to pay to feed the girl anymore. Nevermind the only reason he has to spend money on her is th...

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American Rites

Submitted to Contest #205

Trust me when I say that nobody would want to leave their six million dollar condo, if they had one, to catch a flight to a yearly business ritual in the midwest. My ride to the airport arrives right on time, but not early. It’s a brand new Hummer limousine like I demanded, although the exterior could use a wash and a wax. The driver welcomes me and opens the door for me, as he should. He was smiling, but I could tell that he wasn’t really happy with his job. It wasn’t so much his mouth that gave it away, but his eyes were sad. He really sho...

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Blemish

Submitted to Contest #205

Her heart screams for her to stop, but she can’t. It’s too late. She knows she shouldn’t do this, that doing this will drastically change the course of her life. Her mind tells her it’s okay, throwing excuse after excuse to her, attempting to slow the pounding of her heart. She lowers herself to the ground, dirtying her once perfectly white dress. The dull hues of the forest from the morning fog make the bright crimson stand out incredibly. She finds the rose and forcefully plucks it from the earth. She brings it up to her lips, taking a dee...

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Habit Forming

Submitted to Contest #205

Language is a conspiracy, it ties you up in lies. Language tricks you, it seduces you into a state of languorous complacency. It’s what isn’t said that is the worst of it, language then masks what should be glaring omissions and turns your world into a mush of mild confusion. Smoking, drinking and not washing your hands after you’ve paid a visit to the loo are referred to as bad habits. What a joke! Well, the joke is on me. The joke has always been on me. I’ve got all the way to thirty two years of age and only now do I get that I am...

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Erie

Submitted to Contest #205

Erie was here even after her death. Maybe it was because I couldn't let go in the beginning. Maybe it caused her to stay horribly long. Whatever the reason, I knew that something had happened when Dad came home with a grave look on his pale, oval face, red tear streaks woven down piercing eyes."Dad?" I had said in a small voice, putting down the puzzle pieces I had a handful of in each hand. I felt sweat build up on my forehead, making my bangs stick to my head. I had smoothed them away. "What happened?"He... didn't answer. No, it was that n...

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Breathe

Submitted to Contest #205

Penny closed her eyes and pressed her face to the cold windowpane, trying in vain to synchronize her breathing with the croaking frogs. The early morning lay quiet as the household slumbered. Time suspended between winter's stark weariness and spring's vibrant joy, a stark contrast to the chaos from the previous evening. She tried to forget the state of the room behind her. Boxes were scattered in the middle of the floor. They were mercilessly torn through. Papers and books were thrown in lopsided piles, their pages bent and ripped. Clothing...

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The Idiot

Submitted to Contest #205

I don’t believe in God or the Devil or destiny. I don’t believe in much, actually. My mother wonders what she did so horribly wrong in raising me that I would turn out to be such “an empty shell of a human being.” Thanks, Mom, I love you too. Ha! I’m just an average person with no ambition, no dreams, no wannabe future. Really, does it matter? We’re all gonna die, anyway. Can’t stop that lovely part of existence. So, I say screw it. Just keep breathing every day, see what happens in the 24 hours that encapsulates you, wait to experience wh...

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The Funeral

Submitted to Contest #205

*TW Substance abuse (Alcohol)--Mental Health--Suicidal Ideation—-Language.Here I was dressed in black, prepared to say my last goodbyes to someone I thought I would share my life with. I suppose that's one of the greatest fallacies we suffer from as people; the idea that something could last forever in a world where nothing lasts forever. Then again, this could just be my embitterment talking. I had a tendency to "detach myself from humanity in moments where I might have to show vulnerability...." according to my therapist at least. And yet,...

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Critical Inaccuracy, Chapter 4 of 7 - Even Beautful Tamers Have Thorns

Submitted to Contest #205

It was just another pretty, promising, perfectly precious, spring morning. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, yada yada. Only, today was not just a typical morning. For Alicia... "Ah, the day is young!", said Alicia, as she rolled out of bed, stretched, and began her morning routine. She started by walking into her bathroom and washing her face. A great way to wake herself up. Next, she brushed her hair. Not a single knot would ruin her cutesy appearance. And at last the finishing touch, putting in her flowery hair pin. "Beauti...

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Bless Me, Father

Submitted to Contest #205

(Trigger Warning: Allusions/references to sexual assault)           “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession.” The familiar lines flowed through the rattan divider to the old priest. Not looking up from the paperback novel he kept in his lap, he raised his hand and performed a perfunctory Sign of the Cross.           “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Sp...

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A Change of Seasons

Submitted to Contest #205

A CHANGE OF SEASONS          “You weren’t playing squash last night, were you, Mick?”          He glanced over her shoulder, pretending to be absorbed in the carnage caused by a bomb blast in Israel. Stabbing a potato with unusual vigour, he put it into his mouth without meeting her gaze.          He hunched over his food like a mouse trying not to betray its presence to a snake.   ...

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The Tribe

Submitted to Contest #205

Drums banging! Mark danced around the fire, waving his arms around manically. Trevor watched from his small, wooden cage, hoping that Mark’s dancing would be enough for the tribe to let them go free. Trevor sat, thinking about how he and Mark even got into this circumstance in the first place. He remembers them walking through the forest, looking for adventure. They had certainly found it. Trevor had a massive headache and rubbed the back of his neck, flinching as his hand passed over a small hole, the size of an ear piercing, right there....

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A Little Needling

Submitted to Contest #205

Madge had been smelling death for thirty-two years. It could no longer sneak up behind her as it did some. For some, death is a dark ghost stalking each counted step. But not for Madge. Death for Madge was an old friend that just called to check in a few times a week. Death seemed to wear on her sweater like a cheap perfume. She had seen all the dearly departed as they arrived and she could read on their faces how it was they’d left this world: some had that look of unrepentant panic on their faces, some the pang of unfinished business and s...

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