Write a story inspired by a memory of yours.
Posted in Nonfiction on Oct 26, 2022
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✍️ 98 stories
“How To Slash A Tire” by Deidra Whitt Lovegren
Step One: Let some air out.“You have to depressurize the tire,” the older boy explains, pulling out his switchblade. With a flick of a button, a two-inch blade appears. My eyes grow wide—I have never seen anything like it. With a vulpine grin, he hands the knife to me to hold. I shake my head. His hair is long, blonde, feathered. He’s wearing a black AC/DC concert t-shirt. I don’t know him very well since he goes to another school, but he’s a friend of Susy Watts. “Why do yo...
“The Hijacking of Instagram KBJR0719” by Kevin Broccoli
When the Bitcoin pirates abducted my Instagram, I was watching a movie on whales. Something about how whales are worse than sharks. A documentary. I found it to be unreliable. A shark is a shark. This must be the work of the shark lobbyists, I thought. As I was creating oceanic conspiracies in my mind, I received a text message from a friend-- “Hey, I think you...
“For Pete's Sake” by Thom Brodkin
I’ll never forget the day I realized my dad was going to die.Young boys know nothing of mortality, certainly not when it comes to their fathers. To most sons, dads are giants among men, strong and fearless. It’s why we rely on them to fight our playground proxy wars. “My dad can beat up your dad!” is often the last salvo of scared boys who don't want to fight—but act as if they do. I had often made the proclamation because if my dad were indestructible then maybe I was too.Most of the life lessons my da...
“What He Would Have Wanted” by Kate Winchester
*Trigger warning: This story discusses death and dying. You knew his picture was going to be in the church, but right in front of you, you didn’t expect. In a frame by the altar, his smile said it all; a proud father, grandfather, and future great-grandfather clad in his beloved plaid, flannel shirt and posing in front of the corn stalks that he planted for his family to enjoy. Pumpkins from his garden r...
“Potholes and Spider-Web” by Aaron Caicedo
Warning: Strong language, and references to self-harm and issues with mental health “I think I’m gonna kill myself.” He’d said it without emphasis, eyes unwavering from the golf game on TV, but Frank’s bowels wriggled in shuddering waves; he watched Jeff in his periphery. What Frank said was something he’d thought before, but never aloud, let alone to another person; this largely explained his ...
“Heartbreak” by Chloe Schaefer
“You value honesty, right?” She texted me one night in September. I narrowed my eyes at my phone screen while answering. “Yeah.” “Ok,” she said. “I like you. Like a lot.” I read the sentence, put my phone down for a few seconds, then read it again. Yep, this is real. I'm not hallucinating. I read it again anyway, and then one more time for good measure. She likes ...
“Addiction” by Allie Mae Sakry
“May I use the bathroom?” I waited with my raised hand for Mr. Westeadt to excuse me at the same time during his history class for the nth time. I never took more than a few minutes, so he was never suspicious of me doing anything bad like doing drugs or skipping class. He sighed and gestured to the door. I hurried out without my backpack or any of my belongings that weren’t already in my jeans’ pockets....
“13 Years Ago” by Evina Roux
I had almost forgotten about it, until one day I see a golden envelope sliding under my door. I get it in my hand and turn it around. ‘Class of 2009’ is written neatly on the front. I sigh of boredom as I open it and take out the invitation. Reunion. How nice. “That is an event I’ll be avoiding at all costs.” At least that’s what I’ve said to Maggie when we were on the final year of high school,...
“I Will Lay Me Down” by Abigail F. Taylor
TW: Suicidal thoughtsWe were coming back from a day trip to Fallingwater and stopped to swim in a river that cut through the low-slung hills. After an hour of driving, our stepdad, Mark, a native to the general area, pointed out the windscreen. “Here! We can picnic just on the side.”Mom dropped her feet, from where they'd been sunning on the dashboard. She offered one of her signature, premeditated smiles. “How nice.”Beth, my sister, drab and dreary, huffed. Lately, she spent her morni...
“Crystal City Polar Bear” by Bill Kemp
Crystal City Polar Bear Christmas 1955. The brand new Philco 45 RPM all-transistor record player was encased in a puke-green plastic box with a lid of the same putrid color. Despite the extremely heavy use over the next three years, in 1958, the Made in America turntable, still rotated without a glitch. A white plastic mesh cover on the front of the box hid...
“The Catfish” by Tanner Burke
There used to be a pond just behind my house on Terry Street. It’s still there, actually, I’ve just moved on. It was surrounded on all sides by reeds taller than me or Max or even Carson who was the tallest. We went there after school, left our backpacks at home and picked up our fishing poles then walked just past the Barbers’ house down the hill to the pond. Oh no, it was the Palermo’s house with the wind chimes that s...
“Common Troubles” by Talulah Pellon
My Dad was sitting on the swinging bench with a pile of my books again. This time he didn't take anything from my nightstand, the stuff I was currently picking away at. So while I was weary about why exactly he was interested in my reading selection- at least I wouldn't be missing anything that I wanted to pick up. My parents had deposited us at the lake house cabin in upstate New York with our aunts and cousins, as they did every summer. The cabin had ten beds on the highest floor and three private bedrooms for the...
“The White Picket Fence ” by Becca Ward
It reached around our house like a protective parent. Our white picket fence. Our white house, our sanctuary within it. It gleamed and shone with the confidence of belonging. It existed because everyone had a white picket fence outside their white wooden houses, and when I was born, we were everyone.I sometimes imagine that we stayed in that house with that white picket fence until I was old enough to move out on my own. Like everyone else.Me as everyone, riding the yellow bus...
“The road to death” by Joane Unknown
I remember that night like a dream that keeps coming back every night, from which you wake up out of a sudden in the middle of the night, breathing hard and fast then feeling cold sweat on your back. The night where our life's length could have been shortened within seconds My friends and I were getting ready for our countryside trip. Josh's grandparents had a small, traditional house somewhere up in the ...
“In the Box” by K. M. F. Strider
Content Warning: Physical and Sexual Violence, Language “Fine,” he says at last, circling the lowest number and signing his name. I hold out my hand. “Congratulations. You just bought yourself a car.” His hand is a little clammy, but he shakes on it and leans back in the chair. “You didn’t even buy me dinner first!” he jokes. I hate those jokes....
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