Fictional Prose
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Short stories and chapters from books and novels
Secrets - Freddy Again
Back at The Factory, we bump into Freddy again in the entrance hallway.
'Hello, hello, hello,' he says, peering at us through the rimless specs. He's wearing a pullover and walking boots with thick grey socks. 'And where have we been today?'
'We went to a puppy farm,' Robert says.
'Aye, and very nice too. Are yous planning on buying a dog?'
I answer. 'It was just for fun. Robert and Mel like dogs. I tolerate them as long as they don't bark and whine for too long. I prefer cats, myself.'
'Aye,...
'Hello, hello, hello,' he says, peering at us through the rimless specs. He's wearing a pullover and walking boots with thick grey socks. 'And where have we been today?'
'We went to a puppy farm,' Robert says.
'Aye, and very nice too. Are yous planning on buying a dog?'
I answer. 'It was just for fun. Robert and Mel like dogs. I tolerate them as long as they don't bark and whine for too long. I prefer cats, myself.'
'Aye,...
#family
#mystery
53 reads
0 Comments
The Preservation Of Our Enchantments
Hanson wonders if the coordinates on the message board would direct more traffic to it. Largely undiscovered due to the unmaintained roads and proximity to a major city, its privacy has been well protected for those with the enthusiastic but discreet sense for such adventures. Hanson prefers that it stay that way, infuriated to see that it has gone public. It would pose a risk for those like himself, who have found such liberations on its shore.
He ropes Beth and Stu into joining him Saturday for the hour drive to survey the scene. They have all enjoyed the intoxicating...
He ropes Beth and Stu into joining him Saturday for the hour drive to survey the scene. They have all enjoyed the intoxicating...
#beach
#fiction
#memories
87 reads
2 Comments
Chemistry
The train rattled softly through the Georgia pines, golden hour spilling over fields of cotton like melted butter. I was scribbling equations in a weathered notebook—half-work, half-daydream—when the compartment door slid open.
She entered like a controlled reaction: precise, inevitable. Her curls were auburn chaos pinned with a pencil, and her eyes held the warm, calculating gleam of a labradorite gem. A faded "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants" tote-bag hung from her shoulder, stuffed with a biology textbook and a dog-eared copy of 'Cosmos'.
“Mind if I...
She entered like a controlled reaction: precise, inevitable. Her curls were auburn chaos pinned with a pencil, and her eyes held the warm, calculating gleam of a labradorite gem. A faded "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants" tote-bag hung from her shoulder, stuffed with a biology textbook and a dog-eared copy of 'Cosmos'.
“Mind if I...
#coffee
#dialogue
#fiction
#luck
#science
152 reads
0 Comments
Miss Birdseed
The public house had long been haunted by some strange presence that upset slop trays and let beer dribble out from the taps when no one was looking, but it was not really about this that the publican's wife had come to consult the occult detective, Joshua Samuels.
'That's just the Pimlico poisoner, that is' said Mrs Godalming with weird alacrity. 'Back in my grandfather's day, the pub was frequented by bigwigs from Westminster on their way to County Hall, where Maggie Struthers was strung up by her neck in the place of execution for killing her husband and child with arsenic....
'That's just the Pimlico poisoner, that is' said Mrs Godalming with weird alacrity. 'Back in my grandfather's day, the pub was frequented by bigwigs from Westminster on their way to County Hall, where Maggie Struthers was strung up by her neck in the place of execution for killing her husband and child with arsenic....
#evil
#ghosts
#historical #horror
#historical #horror
61 reads
0 Comments
Private Dick
I looked at my watch, it was nearly eight o’clock. It had been a slow night so I decided to close up shop when she walked in through the door like a cool night breeze.
She was a buxom brunette with a silhouette like magic and dreams. She wore a red and black dress that hugged her curves. This dame looked more dangerous than all the perps I had ever tailed.
She had an hour glass figure with hips like a stand-up jazz bass, ready to be pressed against you, to be plucked and played. She had red luscious lips so full and pouty she looked like she was constantly...
She was a buxom brunette with a silhouette like magic and dreams. She wore a red and black dress that hugged her curves. This dame looked more dangerous than all the perps I had ever tailed.
She had an hour glass figure with hips like a stand-up jazz bass, ready to be pressed against you, to be plucked and played. She had red luscious lips so full and pouty she looked like she was constantly...
#murder
#mystery
728 reads
4 Comments
Secrets - The Puppy Farm
Day After Pub Evening With Gordon
After lunch, Mel drives Robert and me to the farm to see a litter of puppies. The dogs are based in Yorkshire, a collection of chocolate and black Labradors, nine of them under heat lamps, small woolly things with drooping mouths and serious eyes and tiny tails that swish from side to side. The smell inside the annexe to the farmhouse is strong, like a mixture of manure and peroxide. In the pen outside, the adult dogs bark in excitement when they see us, one tall black Labrador jumping up to nip my fingers.
'That's Isaac,'...
After lunch, Mel drives Robert and me to the farm to see a litter of puppies. The dogs are based in Yorkshire, a collection of chocolate and black Labradors, nine of them under heat lamps, small woolly things with drooping mouths and serious eyes and tiny tails that swish from side to side. The smell inside the annexe to the farmhouse is strong, like a mixture of manure and peroxide. In the pen outside, the adult dogs bark in excitement when they see us, one tall black Labrador jumping up to nip my fingers.
'That's Isaac,'...
#family
#mystery
#nature #son
#nature #son
82 reads
4 Comments
Sonja at 18
Sonja at 18
Our healing village is down by the levee in New Orleans. I am deep in Psyche hospital funk. I am curled in a ball on the couch in a fetal pose. My mind is afloat in a Sargasso Sea of drugged peace.
The mind doctors take me off all my meds. I am alert and sitting for a change. Sarah and Pamela, who are counselors, walk by me. Sarah looks at me. “Paul did you know Pamela poses nude for artists in the French Quarter? You should come to a showing of her at the gallery after discharge.”
“That sounds like my cup of tea,” I reply, moon-eyed.
...
Our healing village is down by the levee in New Orleans. I am deep in Psyche hospital funk. I am curled in a ball on the couch in a fetal pose. My mind is afloat in a Sargasso Sea of drugged peace.
The mind doctors take me off all my meds. I am alert and sitting for a change. Sarah and Pamela, who are counselors, walk by me. Sarah looks at me. “Paul did you know Pamela poses nude for artists in the French Quarter? You should come to a showing of her at the gallery after discharge.”
“That sounds like my cup of tea,” I reply, moon-eyed.
...
#healing
#love
#MentalHealth
#romantic
#sensual
118 reads
2 Comments
Secrets - Creaking Floorboards
They say that you and I never went to Vince Macarthur's house, only Gordon did. But I did go, and so did you. I remember the three of us going and I remember the house well. The faded curtains. The musty smells. The shabby carpets. The elusive dancing shadows behind the loose banisters on the staircase. The torn settee by a pile of dusty newspapers. The purple vase in the corner with a fine wiry pattern etched in the glasswork. The metal guard around the gas fire. Model aeroplanes in the sitting room. Spitfires. Lancaster Bombers.
The whole place had a dark and gloomy...
The whole place had a dark and gloomy...
#fear
#friendship
#memories #mystery
#memories #mystery
71 reads
2 Comments
Level 0
Princess Alia finds herself in The Woodlands Mall, but something is off. Something is...different.
She's in the front entrance, where she expects to see a food court and pathways either left or right.
But she sees instead an elevator in front of her and a build in wall. She can't ignore it, she can't look back. This is it.
She walks forward, step by step until she hits the button. The doors immediately open. She's on floor 4. Earth realm.
The elevator moves without her pressing any buttons. She sees the bunny's face mounted on the wall, prompted to...
She's in the front entrance, where she expects to see a food court and pathways either left or right.
But she sees instead an elevator in front of her and a build in wall. She can't ignore it, she can't look back. This is it.
She walks forward, step by step until she hits the button. The doors immediately open. She's on floor 4. Earth realm.
The elevator moves without her pressing any buttons. She sees the bunny's face mounted on the wall, prompted to...
#spiritual
74 reads
0 Comments
THE ADVENTURE OF STUMPY AND THE DUMPSTER BOY
A three legged dog with brown curly fur waited in the alleyway.
The dog’s name was Stumpy.
The rain and ice had cracked the concrete. Years of waste had washed through. It was slimy and grey.
A boy of seventeen, ragged, hungry, and pale, was rummaging around a dumpster.
Stumpy barked.
A man dressed in beige grabbed hold of the Dumpster Boy and pulled him out. It was the manager of the Magnificent Burger House. He was sweaty and salty and his moustache covered his mouth.
“What are you doing in my Dumpster?”
The boy had hold of a bag of mouldy...
The dog’s name was Stumpy.
The rain and ice had cracked the concrete. Years of waste had washed through. It was slimy and grey.
A boy of seventeen, ragged, hungry, and pale, was rummaging around a dumpster.
Stumpy barked.
A man dressed in beige grabbed hold of the Dumpster Boy and pulled him out. It was the manager of the Magnificent Burger House. He was sweaty and salty and his moustache covered his mouth.
“What are you doing in my Dumpster?”
The boy had hold of a bag of mouldy...
#dogs
#dreams
#nightmares
91 reads
6 Comments
The Poet
They say the poet's weapon is not a sword.
But their words and pen.
Sometimes,not a pen.
But a feather of a hen.
A poet's power can depend.
And cannot be measured.
They can win fights with just their words.
And open gates to new worlds.
Worlds they create and write.
They can be the kindest you've seen.
And create your fate.
A poet is like a god in their own world.
That they write on their own.
Their power can be unlimited if used right.
In their room,in their home.
They are the best ones...
But their words and pen.
Sometimes,not a pen.
But a feather of a hen.
A poet's power can depend.
And cannot be measured.
They can win fights with just their words.
And open gates to new worlds.
Worlds they create and write.
They can be the kindest you've seen.
And create your fate.
A poet is like a god in their own world.
That they write on their own.
Their power can be unlimited if used right.
In their room,in their home.
They are the best ones...
#happiness
#hope
#motivational #uplifting
#motivational #uplifting
77 reads
0 Comments
TAG, YOU'RE IT! _ with "Vision_of_insanity"
They played a fierce game of tag all of their lives
From as far back to childhood through to their later years in life
Tag you're it
Now, tag you're it!
The game was harmless, but both were eager to tag the other throughout their lives
Even when they were married & had families, the game went on
One of them fell ill a few years back
Even so, wheelchair bound and sick, he would tag his friend gleefully, like he did for over 70 years
His friend was saddened but thought he'd bounce back
He never did
While in the hospital on his...
From as far back to childhood through to their later years in life
Tag you're it
Now, tag you're it!
The game was harmless, but both were eager to tag the other throughout their lives
Even when they were married & had families, the game went on
One of them fell ill a few years back
Even so, wheelchair bound and sick, he would tag his friend gleefully, like he did for over 70 years
His friend was saddened but thought he'd bounce back
He never did
While in the hospital on his...
#collaboration
#dark
#friendship
131 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Fictional Prose: Short Stories and Chapters from Books and Novels (Page 6)