Fictional Prose
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Short stories and chapters from books and novels
This category is for fictional prose. These are original short stories or chapters from books and novels. The prose in this section covers all genres and subjects. Fiction based prose allows writers to post fantasy stories which are not written in verse, providing an outlet for free flowing thoughts and ideas, outside of poetic structure.
goldenmyst
Poem Published
Today 4:40am
Today 4:40am
Sign of the Times
Sign of the Times
I meet Shari in a bar in the warehouse district of New Orleans. Her bare midriff is illustrated with henna and her black lipstick completes her Goth look. The Stygian hue of her lips entices me to follow her even into Hades. She says, “Are you looking for a companion at the raves or a feathery woman to tickle you at night. I can do rough or soft, you pick.”
I reply, “There is a zip to those nose rings which is undeniable. Given half a chance you could have my hair dyed purple and a ring to rub my zipper from behind.”
She says,...
I meet Shari in a bar in the warehouse district of New Orleans. Her bare midriff is illustrated with henna and her black lipstick completes her Goth look. The Stygian hue of her lips entices me to follow her even into Hades. She says, “Are you looking for a companion at the raves or a feathery woman to tickle you at night. I can do rough or soft, you pick.”
I reply, “There is a zip to those nose rings which is undeniable. Given half a chance you could have my hair dyed purple and a ring to rub my zipper from behind.”
She says,...
#women
#motherhood
#gothic #vampires
#gothic #vampires
6 reads
2 Comments
goldenmyst
Poem Published
Yesterday 7:46am
Yesterday 7:46am
Hired Help
Hired Help
Ruby’s father left me an equal inheritance in spite of me not being family but rather his lawn man. Her father thought of me as the son he never had.
Ruby hangs her clothes on a line in her backyard which my back porch faces. I call to her, “Hey Gal, why pay rent? My place has a spare room just waiting for you.”
She replies, “You will always be the lawn guy in my book, never my Pop’s son. Now quit looking at me.”
I say, “Why did you lease your place next door?”
She replies, “I wanted to be reminded of what a jerk my father was to...
Ruby’s father left me an equal inheritance in spite of me not being family but rather his lawn man. Her father thought of me as the son he never had.
Ruby hangs her clothes on a line in her backyard which my back porch faces. I call to her, “Hey Gal, why pay rent? My place has a spare room just waiting for you.”
She replies, “You will always be the lawn guy in my book, never my Pop’s son. Now quit looking at me.”
I say, “Why did you lease your place next door?”
She replies, “I wanted to be reminded of what a jerk my father was to...
#romantic
#sexy
17 reads
7 Comments
SweetKittyCat5
Poem Published
15th Jul 2019 00:27am
15th Jul 2019 00:27am
A Twist Of A Vampire’s Fate XXIII
The Calling
HOTEL CENTRAL PARK
Sighisoara, Romania
Naynina flipped the bathroom light off and walked out the bathroom. She walked over to the dresser and lifted her cell phone. She slid it open and looked down at the blank screen. She scrolled through her text messages.
“He messes up our relationship, and discontinue communication, men.”
Naynina slid her cell phone close and placed it back on the dresser. She walked into the living room.
“Whew, that garlic smell is singing to me.”
Naynina walked over to the door and...
HOTEL CENTRAL PARK
Sighisoara, Romania
Naynina flipped the bathroom light off and walked out the bathroom. She walked over to the dresser and lifted her cell phone. She slid it open and looked down at the blank screen. She scrolled through her text messages.
“He messes up our relationship, and discontinue communication, men.”
Naynina slid her cell phone close and placed it back on the dresser. She walked into the living room.
“Whew, that garlic smell is singing to me.”
Naynina walked over to the door and...
#vampires
#fairies
#memories
#mythology
#ForbiddenLove
27 reads
3 Comments
SweetKittyCat5
Poem Published
15th Jul 2019 00:12am
15th Jul 2019 00:12am
A Twist Of A Vampire’s Fate XXII
The Scent Of Reminisce
VASILE TABARCA’S RESIDENCE
Sighisoara, Romania
Vacome closed the door to his brother’s residence. He pocketed his key and looked around. He walked into the Day Room. He sensed someone behind his presence. He turned to face his assumption.
Valan had his arms folded across his chest.
“Hey, what’s up man?”
“You tell me. You waltz into your brother’s home.” Valan inhaled the air on a long draw. “Smelling like Fairy’s Blood.”
Shit, Vacome thought.
“Not this time, I was with a woman name Mimi last night; she is a...
VASILE TABARCA’S RESIDENCE
Sighisoara, Romania
Vacome closed the door to his brother’s residence. He pocketed his key and looked around. He walked into the Day Room. He sensed someone behind his presence. He turned to face his assumption.
Valan had his arms folded across his chest.
“Hey, what’s up man?”
“You tell me. You waltz into your brother’s home.” Valan inhaled the air on a long draw. “Smelling like Fairy’s Blood.”
Shit, Vacome thought.
“Not this time, I was with a woman name Mimi last night; she is a...
#vampires
#fairies
#memories
#mythology
#ForbiddenLove
29 reads
4 Comments
Bl_nk
Poem Published
14th Jul 2019 7:18pm
14th Jul 2019 7:18pm
Contradiction:
I think the sky is falling down. As I struggle under the weight I thought to myself, I think the sky has fallen down. It has to be the sky ... it has to be ... right? The crushing weight it has, got me surrendering my movements, crushed under the pressure as if it’s the bottom of the ocean, I think I’m on the ocean floor. Or is it the sky that has crushed me?
My thoughts hindering my movements, pulling me down like anchors, with doubts having me second guessing everything, unable to come to a decision. My mind, is defined as: contradiction ... I think the ocean has fallen on me...
My thoughts hindering my movements, pulling me down like anchors, with doubts having me second guessing everything, unable to come to a decision. My mind, is defined as: contradiction ... I think the ocean has fallen on me...
#confusion
#SelfReflection
#FeelingLost #emptiness
#FeelingLost #emptiness
13 reads
1 Comment
goldenmyst
Poem Published
14th Jul 2019 6:08pm
14th Jul 2019 6:08pm
Felecia and John
Felecia and John
She is a fashion designer in New York City whose dresses are worn by socialites who navigate in circles of the wannabe nouveau monied. But she provides them the illusion of glamour and glitz. I have known her since childhood but when she invites me to dance with these snobs my response is to inform her of my personality traits which would preclude mixing in such a crowd. She brushes aside my protestation with a “You’ll have a ball. You won’t need to mingle too much. We’ll disco dance so you can put aside your worries.”
I enter the...
She is a fashion designer in New York City whose dresses are worn by socialites who navigate in circles of the wannabe nouveau monied. But she provides them the illusion of glamour and glitz. I have known her since childhood but when she invites me to dance with these snobs my response is to inform her of my personality traits which would preclude mixing in such a crowd. She brushes aside my protestation with a “You’ll have a ball. You won’t need to mingle too much. We’ll disco dance so you can put aside your worries.”
I enter the...
#love
#romantic
#city
18 reads
5 Comments
BobbyEdwards
Skeets
Skeets
Poem Published
14th Jul 2019 6:03am
14th Jul 2019 6:03am
the cult's guest speaker...
and now, without further ado, our cult’s Guest Speaker…
Honored dignitaries, acolytes, initiates and children of all ages: I thank you for your interest and for your attendance-
Tonight I will address “The virtues of lust versus the vicissitudes of love”. My time among you is as limited as my thesis is deep. I have been admonished to radically truncate my talk; accordingly I will dispense with the slide, chart, recording, film, kinescope, magic lantern, pantomime, interpretive dance and puppetry elements of my presentation.
(Ahem.)
Excuse me,...
Honored dignitaries, acolytes, initiates and children of all ages: I thank you for your interest and for your attendance-
Tonight I will address “The virtues of lust versus the vicissitudes of love”. My time among you is as limited as my thesis is deep. I have been admonished to radically truncate my talk; accordingly I will dispense with the slide, chart, recording, film, kinescope, magic lantern, pantomime, interpretive dance and puppetry elements of my presentation.
(Ahem.)
Excuse me,...
#faith
#apocalypse
15 reads
0 Comments
goldenmyst
Poem Published
12th Jul 2019 11:56pm
12th Jul 2019 11:56pm
Vagrant in the House of Women
Vagrant in the House of Women
I sleep in sodium light shadows. There, whiskey weary souls expire like angels in the fetid night air. Their cardiac cauldrons pump like lovers in a final tryst.
On Christmas Eve the Soup Kitchen runs out of meals. The last cup of milk is served. I am a bewildered hobo who roams the storefronts in search of Yuletide generosity from restaurant owners. When I round a corner, an angel holds my hand and opens her van door.
My heavenly companion gives me a derriere boost and I feel the warmth of her hand through my...
I sleep in sodium light shadows. There, whiskey weary souls expire like angels in the fetid night air. Their cardiac cauldrons pump like lovers in a final tryst.
On Christmas Eve the Soup Kitchen runs out of meals. The last cup of milk is served. I am a bewildered hobo who roams the storefronts in search of Yuletide generosity from restaurant owners. When I round a corner, an angel holds my hand and opens her van door.
My heavenly companion gives me a derriere boost and I feel the warmth of her hand through my...
#women
#marriage
#spiritual #sensual
#spiritual #sensual
13 reads
0 Comments
goldenmyst
Poem Published
11th Jul 2019 11:09pm
11th Jul 2019 11:09pm
Conversation Best Not Overheard
Conversation Best Not Overheard
Way out in the boondocks down Barataria Boulevard in Marrero you can hear the Gators at night. Out here in the boonies, big rigs blow their horns for little boys who dream of one day being truckers. This is where New Orleans sophistication turns countrified.
We are at “Where Ya At Pizzeria” The place is made from a converted warehouse and surrounded by empty lots of abandoned boatyards.
My wife’s best friend, Darlene, tells me that her daughter is working on her masters at the University of New Orleans. Brandy left her...
Way out in the boondocks down Barataria Boulevard in Marrero you can hear the Gators at night. Out here in the boonies, big rigs blow their horns for little boys who dream of one day being truckers. This is where New Orleans sophistication turns countrified.
We are at “Where Ya At Pizzeria” The place is made from a converted warehouse and surrounded by empty lots of abandoned boatyards.
My wife’s best friend, Darlene, tells me that her daughter is working on her masters at the University of New Orleans. Brandy left her...
#marriage
#betrayal
#food #sexy
#food #sexy
20 reads
0 Comments
AaHarvey
Poem Published
11th Jul 2019 7:45pm
11th Jul 2019 7:45pm
32. Beedazzled
The hornets appeared on the horizon.
Zipper was on lookout with Tryin’ Flyon.
The two of them were in an argument
And didn’t see the hornet’s a-flying.
In fear Tryin’ stumbled back and hit a plant,
And all the water came raining down with a mighty splash.
Sound the alarm! I can’t, Tryin’!
My wings are soaked through, said Zipper, nearly crying.
The two of them ran and watched as above a squadron of hornets,
Crashed down with a thud!
What have we got here lads? A couple of wet-through bees.
Please don’t hurt us,...
Zipper was on lookout with Tryin’ Flyon.
The two of them were in an argument
And didn’t see the hornet’s a-flying.
In fear Tryin’ stumbled back and hit a plant,
And all the water came raining down with a mighty splash.
Sound the alarm! I can’t, Tryin’!
My wings are soaked through, said Zipper, nearly crying.
The two of them ran and watched as above a squadron of hornets,
Crashed down with a thud!
What have we got here lads? A couple of wet-through bees.
Please don’t hurt us,...
#soldiers
#war
#death
#ShortStory
#bees
11 reads
0 Comments
AaHarvey
Poem Published
11th Jul 2019 7:43pm
11th Jul 2019 7:43pm
31. All abuzz about a bee
The name’s Humble B. Bumble; welcome to my mall.
How do you do?
If there is anything that you need, I am sure we have it for you.
Need a fresh pot of honey to go with your food?
Not a problem, keep the bottle; I saved this one especially for you two.
Do you need to buy your honey something new?
Not a problem, all honey is good here, I can make honey too.
If you see something you like, I am sure we can find you a good price.
The sugar sure is nice; we just got this frozen stuff,
You won’t believe your eyes!
They call it ice; ...
How do you do?
If there is anything that you need, I am sure we have it for you.
Need a fresh pot of honey to go with your food?
Not a problem, keep the bottle; I saved this one especially for you two.
Do you need to buy your honey something new?
Not a problem, all honey is good here, I can make honey too.
If you see something you like, I am sure we can find you a good price.
The sugar sure is nice; we just got this frozen stuff,
You won’t believe your eyes!
They call it ice; ...
#money
#food
#ShortStory #bees
#ShortStory #bees
14 reads
0 Comments
goldenmyst
Poem Published
11th Jul 2019 6:24pm
11th Jul 2019 6:24pm
Her Breakfast Kisses Are His 401k
Her Breakfast Kisses Are His 401k
I play second fiddle to a saxophonist who remembers the tenormen of old who made the sax wail like the women they loved. One night we do a gig on Frenchmen’s Street in a club called the “Wharf Stompers Club.” The crowd shouts like it is Mardi Gras on Canal Street. Each jazz set eggs them on until the music is drowned out by the yelling. But that doesn’t put a dent in the throaty madness which is the sign of a gig well done. Deep in the crowd, a shrill scream erupts and the men part like the Red Sea as the young woman pushes...
I play second fiddle to a saxophonist who remembers the tenormen of old who made the sax wail like the women they loved. One night we do a gig on Frenchmen’s Street in a club called the “Wharf Stompers Club.” The crowd shouts like it is Mardi Gras on Canal Street. Each jazz set eggs them on until the music is drowned out by the yelling. But that doesn’t put a dent in the throaty madness which is the sign of a gig well done. Deep in the crowd, a shrill scream erupts and the men part like the Red Sea as the young woman pushes...
#love
#romantic
#music #alcohol
#music #alcohol
18 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Fictional Prose: Short Stories and Chapters from Books and Novels
