Short Story

General Patrick finally took notice of the trident on the uniforms of all of the men sitting at the table, not to mention the tape on the uniforms that read ‘US Navy’. “How the hell….” General Patrick said out loud.

(Y/N) let out a frustrated growl and absent-mindedly stared at her screen full of code. She grabbed Kwehvin Lockhart, her rubber chocochick, from her desk and tossed it between her hands.

"This is all YOUR fault! I'm p-pregnant because of YOU!" Over the course of his years upon this earth, Draco Malfoy had seen many shocking things, mostly thanks to his psychotic - and mercifully deceased - Aunt Bellatrix and her sadistic ophidian Dark Lord. Yet despite all of the horror he'd witnessed during the last war, no act of violence, no streak of depravity, no one person had ever, ever come close to shocking him nearly as much as Hermione Granger just had.

Last week, dressed in her tailored suit and mile-high red heels, Morgana walked into the neighborhood watering hole in the Bronx. The pub was dim, crowded, and smelled like stale beer and musky cologne, but despite the irritating odor, she enjoyed the drinks and the laid-back atmosphere, even if she stuck out like a sore thumb when she came dressed in business attire straight after work. But that didn’t really matter, because she and her crowd were celebrating Merlin’s master’s degree by consuming nachos, wings, and beer. It was a fine night to let loose and chow down on greasy food. After all, this was Merlin, who worked so hard at his two jobs, teaching grade school and tutoring disadvantaged kids at the community center, all while

“Mom?” Avalon asked. Seeing her mom and another man kiss was heartbreaking, she’d always believed that her mom would stick by her father’s side no matter what.

Staying in the middle of New York currently is bothersome. There is a raging heat outside and my air conditioning unit has broken down. No one comes into my shop, except for my regulars, anymore. No one believes in old styled medicine, anymore. No one, except, for the boy roaming

Kissing the driver good-bye, Marlene Barnes exited the 2011 Malibu and waltzed across the parking lot. The raven-haired beauty with a taste for the finer things in life, unlocked the new, red sports, Mercedes parked in the doctor’s parking lot with the other expensive vehicles. Driving out onto Imperial Highway and down to Highway 74, with her thoughts lingering on the last few hours spent with her lover. Marlene drove faster than usual to get home ahead of Jerry and Andrew. Smiling as she drove into the garage, without seeing Jerry’s car parked in his usual spot. Marlene went into the house, after making a fresh pot of coffee, she sat at the table, she glanced through the mail while waiting for her husband and father-in-law to arrive.

How are we supposed to go in deeper? It’s not like we have a submarine!” “But we do!” Willow exclaimed suddenly. “Huh?” Me and Scarlett asked at the same time. “Well, at least my dad does. He works for the Marine Biology Center, and he can take us down in a submarine!” Willow told us excitedly. “Great! Let’s go!” exclaimed, already running down the driveway. Willow and Scarlett hopped on their bikes that were parked in my driveway, and I got mine out of the garage. Then we set off to the Marine Biology Center.

The electricity that crackled in the onyx sky was an aura full of ancient and regal blood; a storm brewing with every passing word shared between two opposing souls.

“(Y/n)?” “Yeah, Oku?” You settled back next to him under the warm covers, even though you were extremely warm already.

"William watched Abigail for a moment noticing her stiff nature. " Abigail, " He said with his tone shaking slightly. William knew something was wrong Abigail was not her usual self.

“Gate 4A is boarding! Next flight boarding is Gate 4A!” the cheery pre-recorded voice announced over the airport’s loudspeakers.

He first glimpsed the sun as it rose above the bell of a French horn.

"He's up late again," Frederica murmured to herself after seeing lights in the room ahead. She quietly opened the door to the study of the highest ranking officer in the Iserlohn Republic, Yang Wenli. A stray beret lay slightly crumpled on the sofa and empty paper cups cluttered the coffee table in front of it. There was a glow coming from the desk as the study's occupant watched yet another history documentary. The man himself looked slightly disheveled like the rest of the room, a far cry from the hero of democracy he was hailed to be. In other words, things weren't that much different from usual.

30 Gary must have phoned while she slept; he’d left a voicemail to say he would see her for breakfast, and to expect Liz. Jen played the message repeatedly, agonising over each word, his tone, the brevity of the message. She was desperate to see him, to judge the effect her behaviour of last night had had on him, yet she dreaded this encounter. Had he asked Liz to come as a witness or a referee? Coffee was percolating, the croissants warming in the oven. Angie was at the table; Jen could see her knee jerking, as if keeping beat to a song only audible to her.