Short Story

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

The clicking of her black heels echoed loudly as they made contact with the worn-out cobble pathway. The dull coloured water from the river hit the rocks as the sound of the Big Ben rung, indicating that it was 10pm. Fog littered the poorly lit street and the winds nipped at her nose, only the sounds of her heels meeting the uneven stone could be heard throughout the empty streets of London. She fixed her grip on her newborn, bringing the fragile, olive-skinned baby girl flush against her wool coat. She kept her head down as the crisp breeze blew through her brown silky hair, reminding her of her husband’s fingers that once used to do the same. Her pale blue eyes pierced through the fog as the strong winds pulled back her hood, exposing her

It must have been around eight o’clock in the evening when Johnny saw the flickering lights from the tiki torches that were bordering the outdoor terrace. The two had been facing each other for a while now in the hotel’s lounge, and Johnny’s sight of the outdoor terrace gave him the out he needed to get Clarissa to a more secluded and romantic spot. “Pick up your drink…we’re going onto the terrace,” he quickly and bluntly told her with a grin. As soon as she could grab her lemontini with one hand and her purse hanging from her arm, her beau gracefully clasped her other hand and led them both through the crowd of hotel guests to the terrace entryway. She couldn’t help but be turned on by his spontaneous ways and smiled the whole way to the terrace

She brushed her frozen, cherub fingers against the wicked bricks of the buildings she passed, feeling their history. Meanwhile, her eyes told a fairytale to every onlooker she passed: possibly one that they might have heard as a child, told by a soft spoken mother in the comfort of the sleep that was about to embrace them, giving them dreams of warm and golden passion, love. This unclaimed child’s laughs were heard across the street on the other side of the sidewalk by a couple, too in love to notice such a nuisance to their romantic evening. Eventually, as she continued her journey wandering on and on throughout the streets of London, nothing and everything was on her mind, except for the whistle of the cold, brisk winds that the night had offered. And for a moment, she

Roman slumps into the bedframe, retching out a sigh that carries through the room. I remain still by the door, ever so slightly tense with anticipation. My eyes flick to the walls and the tables. There are cigarettes haphazardly scattered across the coffee table by the window. Godammit.

I shoot up from my bed in the middle of the dark in a cold sweat, my eyes adjust slowly as I rub them in the darkness. I glance beside me at a familiar silhouette, it's none other than Thomas and I note his arm carefully constructed around my waist. In the few years I've known him I've realized this nervous tick about him, like a child, he finds the need to cling onto something in order to sleep. There have been moments in the night where I've found him cradling me like a beloved toy in his arms possessively but in the morning he's always gone and he leaves no evidence of his actions.

“HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING?” she questioned in a hushed whisper in the elevator, the peacekeepers undoubtedly waiting at the bottom doors. It was a relief that they were going up. There were never set rules on if tributes could go into different floors that didn’t correlate with their district, but frankly, Reeve felt like the rules were out the window at that point.

“I know you’re longing to get out of here and explore on your own, and today your request is granted, but on one condition – you must take Sparkle with you, as she knows more than you do. She will make sure you return here safely. The ruling power has surely run your image through facial recognition software, and the dark elves are curious about you.

Chad was born to be a wrestler. He was barely out of pull-up and showed promise. When someone mentioned wrestling, he would grin from ear to ear.

When they entered the ballroom area, the room moved around them like clockwork. Fathers and daughters swirling in synchronization around the center that sat the little orchestra playing a haunting tune. The girl’s dresses flounced out, as their heads were thrown back, eyes closed. The guys of the pair moved to the left, narrowly avoiding some of the spinning couples to come into contact with the most stereotypical male bar room, he had ever seen. Cigar smoke layered over head as fathers and sons took generous sips of whisky and chuckled with their ironically flamboyant hand gestures. The boy seemed to shrink under the atmosphere, and felt a claustrophobic nausea as he made his way closer and closer to the bar. The man working behind it

Hidden from view by the thick copse of trees bordering the east side of Westview High’s running track, Tyrell Carson watched with interest as Dennis approached Harry. The two ‘teenagers’ exchanged a few words before Dennis turned and walked away. Although out of earshot, Tyrell could see well enough to know the meeting was not a drug deal, and his eyebrows drew together into a frown. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that had his spider-sense tingling. That morning, he’d attempted to bribe a student office aide to steal Brady and McQuaid’s files, but despite offering money and threatening violence, he’d failed his mission statement. Failure did not sit well with the arrogant teen, and

Billy Weaver was walking down the street after getting off the train when something in a window front caught his eye. If was as if he was a rat that smelled cheese and trying to sniff it out. The sign read, “Breakfest n’ Bed” It felt as if he’d been staring at the sign for hours. He walked up to the door and knocked on the door. Not after two seconds of knocking on the door it opened. There stood a woman, old, small, and looked like a normal grandmother.

I reach in my pocket as I clamber out of the dusty wagon, I find is a stick of gum, a euro and two roll-ups. Trouble is, I don’t even own a match to light em. I don’t have much after handing over my savings to the traffickers. I’ve come from France to the UK because everyone tells me life’s good here..

It all starts on the side of Mt. Kilimanjaro, at the science and mining camp Alpha Site 18. Emilio, a black haired, blue eyed, roughed up miner from years of working in other mine shafts and a hard personality with a soft spot for children, was walking toward the main science bay area at request of the head scientist there, Ian Mack.

His hand was on the back of her neck; it was how he calmed her when she was faltering, and she knew it was all right, she could make amends, she hadn’t driven him away. They pulled out chairs, sat, reached for cups, tore