Thank goodness for this prompt.

This is a true story and it’s happening as I write.

everything’s packed up.

every summer we’d visit this place

and it was hard to say goodbye.

but this is for real.

there’s no going back.

literally.

a neighbor I’ve known for three days came over to give me a gift.

a flower necklace wrapped in a handkerchief.

“you’re going to need it” she told me.

i tried to te...

Something just has happened, and the little girl inside of me has woken up.

With a delicate yawn, she smacks her lips.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep,” I murmur to her. But my nostalgia has worked its way down to her, and it’s too late. She bubbles up inside of me.

“Look!” she says. “It’s ———! We love ——-!”

“Pipe down! Your time is past,” I whisper, but my demands are futile.

“Don’t you remember when...

*TW: Implied Violence*

*I don’t usually do horror, so this may come off flat, but please leave tips in the comments! I appreciate it in advance! And thank you for taking time to read my story! :D*

I was fresh out of college, ready to find my place in the world, and also almost broke.

I’d rented a small apartment, but I’m still not sure I got the most from my money. The cracks in the walls, outdat...

I read about this communication form back in History. And since nothing else is working…

Well, here goes.

I kind of like this. It feels a little bit more permanent than intermessaging. Like, I can delete messages but I can’t get the ink off of the page. If that makes any sense. And then there’s the sound of the pen scratching, and the smell of the paper, and it all just feels so… real, I guess....

I watched from my usual spot on the hill. The lavender fields were slowly dying. Even now I couldn’t help but notice the gray starting to permeate their petals. To my disdain, it wasn’t the most lovely day, for the sky was still clouded over from the nighttime showers of delicate rain. That odd, natural fog flowed from the distant forest.

Then she came down the path.

She, per usual, ignored my p...

there is something about

the sun streaming in through the windows

the sounds of others in the other rooms

the softest whispers of “let’s get up now”

they don’t want me to rest anymore

and as expected I must

get up

Get up

GET UP

an awakening is a choice

to either

dread

or dream

or simply

exist...