Excerpt

Classic Short Story
In the general laughter, he did not share, or only a very little. He was thinking about the Arctic and Antarctic regions, which of course, on the globe, were white. Miss Buell was now telling them about the tropics, the jungles, the steamy heat of equatorial swamps, where the birds and butterflies, and even the snakes, were like living jewels. As he listened to these things, he was already, with a pleasant sense of half-effort, putting his secret between himself and the words. Was it really an effort at all? For effort implied something voluntary, and perhaps even something one did not especially want; whereas this was distinctly pleasant, and came almost of its own accord. All he needed to do was to think of that morning, the first one, and then of all the others—
By Sram4 years ago in Fiction
Shy
CHAPTER 1 Journal entry 1: I don’t know his name. I’ve never heard it spoken out loud, unless I did hear and didn’t associate it with his face – his mannerisms. But, I call him Shy.
By RedWritor4 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Star
Tom, flashing his torchlight with deep thoughts about his penultimate battery porch, felt the bizarre wind on him while walking along the cold desert. He looked around and paused for a moment whether to march forward or set up a camp for the night.
By Govardhan Pinni4 years ago in Fiction
A Night Owl's Writer's Block
I spun around in my office chair, head tilted back, willing an idea to pop into my brain. After a half dozen rotations, I was plenty dizzy but had no new ideas. I dragged my feet on the floor, and my chair squeaked to a stop in front of my computer screen.
By Jessie Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
An excerpt from "Off the Edge" (my original story)
The house was dead silent. The creaking of the stairs as I carefully tiptoed down them seemed to shake the house, echoing throughout the quiet darkness. I could almost see the sound, bouncing off the decades-old appliances in the kitchen and the outdated furniture, more fragile than their elderly owner.
By Jay D.4 years ago in Fiction
The Return of the Defenders
It was getting late. Though the sky displayed a myriad of colour, with the growing shadows came a sense of foreboding. A nervous hush fell upon the forest, the only movement coming from the wind blowing through the leaves, and the day-dwellers scurrying for sanctuary. It had been this way for as long as Gaeryll could remember.
By J.C. Winter4 years ago in Fiction
The Triple Bar
After riding one day, Jim tossed me a piece of baling twine and told me to use it to lead Freckles through the gate. Jim was always telling me that I was a wimp and so I didn't protest, I was afraid, but told myself it would be fine, you’re just nervous. I didn’t realize I was saying this to myself, it was a mantra I had been using for so long originating from my determination to be different than my mother. I followed Jim’s instructions. Freckles crowded me into Jack and the thin twine slipped out, as I maneuvered between the two geldings. In the momentary confusion, Katie, our mare, bolted free through the open gate. Jim called out to me "Get her". Freckles safely in the pen I strode after Katie. She hoisted her hind legs in the air and kicked toward my hip, I turned as her feet neared, so all she got was my wrist. I backed up cradling it, not sure of what had happened to my small delicate hand, making sure I was out of her way, and wouldn’t be harmed further, I sank down, stunned, searing pain focused me, as I sat on the cold spring soil. I didn't go to the emergency room, Jim didn't think I needed to. I waited 10 days, it was swollen, but not terribly black and blue. It was my right hand, I earn money drafting using auto-cad. I’m a professional ice skater. Finally I decided I needed to make sure it healed properly so I went to a Doctor. There was a small break, but nothing to be done about it, just wear a brace and keep it immobilized.
By Gaby4 years ago in Fiction
EXCERPT FROM- Shane,Stabb, The Big Man, The Driver and The Wind
Shane, Stabb, The Big Man, The Driver and The Wind. Chapter 19–Strix Farm By: Preston Leigh
By Preston Leigh4 years ago in Fiction
The White Ripper
1. Bruce Gomer plopped his fat and hairy body onto a threadbare swivel chair in his decrepit trailer in the woods of Stuttgart, Arkansas, forty-five miles southeast of Little Rock. Wearing nothing but a dirty wife-beater T-shirt and torn socks, he played with his cock then turned on his PC and went to the Facebook page, Don’t Tread On US!
By Keith Seewald4 years ago in Fiction
Sasha Chapter V: A Meeting with Effie
This is an excerpt from an epic fantasy novel I am currently working on. If you enjoyed this excerpt, please consider sharing it. You can also like the tweet on my twitter account @chenoehi. Thank you for reading!
By Cheyenne N.4 years ago in Fiction
Edge of Fire
Chapter One Ira stared into the flames. The embers sputtered and splintered, sending sparks flying all around him, and the blackened ashes went golden orange and red with each crack of the smoldering wood. But in spite of the fire’s hot glow, his breath still came in small clouds of vapor.
By Meredith Swanson4 years ago in Fiction
Late Bloomers
He wasn’t all that interested in classical music, but an hour out of class was an hour out of class. It wasn’t that he thought “normal” music was better, or anything, but the classical music he’d heard before was never interesting. He always supposed it was some lost in translation thing, something he was missing because he so used to messing around with synthesizers and auto tune and everything he could get his hands on.
By A Baptiste4 years ago in Fiction