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Set your story in a major city that your character has a love-hate relationship with.

Posted in Middle School on Oct 25, 2022

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✍️ 152 stories

Museum

Cassandra Durnin

Submitted to Contest #85

Dear Laura, There are many things that words can’t seem to express. Loss is one of them, isn’t it? We make up all these words to go with emotions, and some spin colors into their work, calling sorrow blue, grey, or even black. It’s transformed into the missing piece, a form of emptiness, and I suppose that’s true. Nobody could do this awful feeling justice, but I’ll be damned if I won’t try. Besides, the therapist said it might be good to write. She told me not to write to you. Ha! I used one of my many skills, and tuned her out. Just l...

21 likes

Town Girl and Country Girl

Submitted to Contest #85

Even though she would never have thought of referring to herself as a “girl” in other contexts, because she thought it was a bit silly when she was theoretically old enough to be a grandmother, though she doubted that would never happen, given that you had to be a mother first, Marsha Pendleton still happily and proudly referred to herself as a country girl. Often adding riders like a country girl at heart, or a country girl born and bred. Those who were more pedantic (a trait Marsha herself was prone to) could have pointed out that the born...

20 likes

Property Values in Pompeii Are Trending Down

Story Time

Submitted to Contest #85

As the lava poured forth from the gaping hellmouth, Elenzia realized she should have taken a different route to work. Her husband had warned her over their morning coffee that smoke was billowing out from the top of Vesuvius, but it had done so many a time, and gone were the days when it would send all the citizens of Pompeii fleeing to the water. For a time, there were weekly volcano drills, wherein the village crier would run about screaming “Eruption! Eruption!” and all would gather in the square to calmly take attendance before loadi...

19 likes

Excerpt from Missing

Keith Manos

Submitted to Contest #85

Athens, the oldest capital of the modern world, was a city of rectangular, gray-white buildings, all of them slammed against each like the lockers we had at Tremont High, except these buildings seemed to be constructed haphazardly, as if it was an anything-goes type of architecture. People crowded the streets, going in and out of the shops and avoiding the Volkswagens, Toyotas, and Volvos that honked and battled each other at every intersection. But what really struck me was the lack of wind in the city, like the air was resting because Zeus...

17 likes

To my friend

Nicole Davis

Submitted to Contest #85

Hey, Man! Gavin here. I know I haven’t written home lately, so I wanted to catch you up. Let me tell you about how great last night was as I scramble to get ready for work this morning. Dude, it was EPIC! My buddies and I went from party to party, dancing and socializing over snacks and drinks in those intoxicating neons. Flashing discos didn’t hurt either. I love this city, there’s always something to do! Anyway, I met this really great girl who gave me her number on a napkin. We got to talk for a bit before her friends came and pulled her...

17 likes

Coming To Terms

Coira MacHaffie

Submitted to Contest #85

The Aldritch Academy of Magic, Sorcery, and All Things Presently Unknowable was a menace. This was, of course, well-known by the citizens of Aldritch proper. No one had forgotten the incident three years past when an aspiring necromancer had accidentally raised all the dead buried on city grounds, which had led to a harrowing forty-eight hours where the deceased had outnumbered the living by an uncomfortable margin and had, in more than a few cases, decided to increase their numbers further by settling some old grudges before the necromancer...

17 likes

Love Never Dies

Marzia Azad

Submitted to Contest #85

Love never dies Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh,I was brought up here seeing the beautiful sky with overwhelming moon. In my childhood it was only a city to me. We had tiny field where me and my brother used to play cricket. We used to wait to hear the Azan (prayer declaration) in nearest mosque because it was an indication of being afternoon. At that time Dhaka was only an answer of general knowledge question to me. That time I had interest about famous places of Dhaka like Shahid Minar, National Museum etc.. It was all about visiting...

17 likes

It's not always raining

Karen Watts

Submitted to Contest #85

“Renoviction? Is that even a word?” “In Vancouver it is, and it just happened to you, Jill.” Still clutching the poorly worded eviction notice, and trying not to sob into the phone, Jill waited for her friend, a long-time Vancouverite, to explain. “Let’s say you want to double the rent. You can’t legally do that, but you can force your tenant to move out for renovations that turn the place into a bigger or better suite, and then the new rent for the next tenant is justified.” “And this happens to lots of people?” Jill sniffed and looked arou...

17 likes

Only The Cruel Ones Survive

Submitted to Contest #85

Monday, 17th of July, 2045 Today I have black in my heart. I'm tired of black; it's everywhere these days, spreading like a disease. It kind of reminds me of the pandemic we had years ago, but I think this is worse. Now, instead of people's bodies getting infected, it's their minds. Everyone hates everyone else, it sickens me. War has torn apart almost every country in the world, ripping them into pieces. I have nightmares about it; sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, wondering why they don't just lay down their guns and plead ...

17 likes

When I remember Pablo

Anna Forsyth

Submitted to Contest #85

There are some days when I think I’m in love with her. But the day after, I wake up with a throbbing headache. Mostly, we drink wine and smoke cigarettes, and she talks about Pablo. Pablo is her boyfriend. Or a dead poet. I can’t remember which. One is Pablo, and one is Paulo. She talks about them both a lot. I take a long drag from my cigarette and make a low, thoughtful sound. “Hmmm.” And then it doesn’t matter whether she’s talking about Pablo or Paulo - the lover or the poet. She’ll smile at me, and come back from that far-away place. We...

16 likes

Charmed

Submitted to Contest #85

In the cities they occupy, the homeless are as much a part of the community as any other group. They inhabit the wedge-space under every bridge and make nests behind fences near freeways; they establish tent cities beside train stations and turn playgrounds into drug spots. You don’t need to go downtown to see them. Even residents in wealthy neighborhoods catch glimpses of the homeless on random mornings when one pops up on the sidewalk outside of their homes. The transient ones always look confused, like they’ve just escaped abduction, and ...

16 likes

Reuniting with Roma

Submitted to Contest #85

Reuniting with Roma I love Roma so much I live there two months a year. But one year, Roma morphed from lover to spouse, no longer striving to delight me. Suddenly, it was enough for the city to span the Tiber with bridges, illuminate the ruins, and provide busses with bodies and backpacks oozing from both entrata and ustica doors. I did not have an "ah ha" moment, rather a series of moments that moved my passion for Roma to echoes of medieval bells and memories of riso gelato. It was good while it lasted. Then it was over. Maybe it was ...

15 likes

Dislocation

ROBERT Ellis

Submitted to Contest #85

“I’ve always wanted to go to Mardi Gras. You know, in New Orleans.” Jim looked hopeful, but I kept quiet. I was going to Mardi Gras, for the sixth time in the last twenty years, but I belonged. Plus, I’d earned it because of my bargain with Pat. After all, I’d lived in New Orleans for over ten years, first college, and then working at a bank downtown. Come winter up here, shut up in that small house with Pat, I really earn a trip to any place that makes me happy. After all, I have to live up here now. “Here” is Bangor, Maine, where I now...

15 likes

Chicago

Roth Sassin (inactive)

Submitted to Contest #85

I both love and hate Chicago. I hate how cold it gets, I hate how hot it gets. I hate the stink when you go under a bridge, I hate the long long lines. But I love the many restaurants and towering buildings. I love the parks and the museums. I hate the trash and dirty water that lines the streets, sometimes overflowing onto the sidewalk. I hate the high prices and the small apartments. But I love important things like The Bean, or the Willis Tower (or Seris, I can never remember). I love the river that they die green on St. Patrick's...

14 likes

Dear California

Jana Tulisa

Submitted to Contest #85

The room was full of useless objects: dusty and scabrous racks, secular books with modern covers, a rotten apple at the varnished table, an unsorted pile of papers. The air was slowly flowing from one corner to another, marking every drop of wine on the floor. The setting sun was radiographing through the bobbinet, leaving thin stripes of light on everything she has once touched. The woman took the envelope out of the box, smoothed the small mark in the right top corner with her red nails, and smiled faintly. She hasn’t been reading them...

13 likes

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