Nov 09
fiction 3 comments challenge: Club

This guy asked me to join his club

"Mate, this guy just asked me yesterday if I wanted to join his club."

"Woah, what'd ya say?"

"Well obviously I asked him what it was about, you know?"

"Don't tell me it was some kinda cult or somethin' freaky like that."

"Geez no, he said it was a book club."

"Oh yeah? Sounds chill."

"And then I asked him if you could come, cause I thought you would love to go."

"Aww that's sweet."

"But then this jerk is like "No way your friend's got issues" 





"Haha oml, thanks for that"

"No problem mate, anyone that's got beef with you has got beef with me"
Oct 19

The Jump

The Jump
My feet crunched the snow as my thick boots led me toward the hill. It was mid-winter, a warmer day than most, and the tramping was making my forehead sweat. My friend Clementine was ahead of me, my short legs and puffy snowsuit weighing me down-and slowing me down. Finally, I reached the top of the hill. I sat down, not caring if my butt got wet or not. Mindlessly, my mittens picked up a ball of snow and packed it evenly. This was the best packing snow of the winter. It was the perfect mixture of wet and fluffy, a combination rare at least to Vermont. Judson, another friend, was thinking the same thing.
Dec 05

Ten Days of Winter, 1892

Editor's note: In the 11+ years of this site, I have shared only a couple of things on the belief that this is your site, not mine. But I am sharking this because, well, becaue I thought you might like to read/listen to it and, also, to see that some stories take a long time to develop. I'd love some feedback -- this is your chance! :) 

I wrote this piece of fiction for Winter Tales 2017 and it was presented by Vermont Stage in its shows Dec. 6-10, 2017 at FlynnSpace. (It also was going to be presented at a similar winter story show in East Montpelier on Dec. 16.)

Audio download:
Feb 13

The House

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)
Feb 13

The Pendant

NOTE: This is part of the Sprout1 Challenge. This piece was written by an anonymous writer during Vermont Writes Day, and we loved how it started us thinking. How about you? If you would like to extend this story, please click the SPROUT button below and continue it. If you find lots of sprouts, and we hope you will over time, and you like where someone else has taken this, sprout that post. Have fun. And we thank whoever posted this on on Friday, Feb. 10, 2017. (We have made a few edits, by the way.)

The old iron bell jangles as I step into the familiar shop. I wave to the owner, a kindly old gentleman, who smiles at me as he always does and says hello. He seems to appreciate my visits, even though I don't often buy anything. 

I make my way through a maze of old bookshelves and chairs, paintings, vases and other miscellaneous objects. I know almost all of it by memory and can tell whenever the store has sold something. 
Mar 25

Hair Removal!

My hair is long, black, and mysterious. It has always been this way for as long as I can remember, but it was time for a change. I wanted my hair to glisten in the sun, not hide me like dark shadows. I wanted my hair to bounce as I ran, not hold me down. I wanted to experience something new since I was going to be starting high school in just a few weeks.

A few days ago had been my biggest downfall of all my 13 years living on this planet we call Earth.  I was buying groceries at our local market when I saw a dye bottle. It was calling out to me, “Claire... This is perfect for you.” I couldn’t help but want to buy it. So, I did.

I went home after that and began ripping open the dye box. As I read the instructions about as fast as humanly possible thoughts swirled in my mind. Was I really going to go through with this? How would I look? As I began putting the dye in my damp hair I immediately stopped. There was a burning sensation piercing my scalp.
Mar 25
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye
hochanan's picture


I glance into the mirror. Crap! I stare at my reflection, and instead of the soft, sleek, smooth gray hair that I had anticipated, my hair has turned an outrageously bright mix of pink and yellow stripes. I look like a mad scientist from the movies after a colorful explosion! I quickly run to the sink and furiously begin to scrub my hair, sending water everywhere, but nothing happens! I jump into the shower fully dressed and grab the shampoo. The shampoo that I frantically spill on the bath floor seeps into my dapper socks. My socks, now full of soap, slip on the wet floor of the shower and I land on my wrist with a deeply sickening snap.
Mar 25
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye
parei's picture

Today Is The Day

Today Is The Day
“Today is the day,” I said as I push my glasses up. I gazed at the mirror looking at my messy hair.

   “Today is the day, I dye my hair.”
Mar 25
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye
flame's picture

Died Hair Gone Wrong

I have always wanted to dye my hair but I never had the nerve to do it but today I do. The color that I have always wanted to dye my hair was light blue and today is the day that my mom will finally let me dye my hair light blue. And I am so happy.

We got back from the store and I go up stairs to the bathroom and three hours later I was all done and I look in the mirror and my hair isn’t light blue it’s pink and I hate pink so I look at the bottle and it says to leave the hair dye mixture in the refrigerator for an hour and then dye your hair. Then I noticed that I forgot to do that and the bottle says that the dye lasts for at least a month.

So I go down stairs and I tell me mom what happened and she said the same thing happened to her when she was my age and that made me feel better and it’s a good thing I got two bottles. So my mom let me do it again and I did it right the second time and it came out the way I wanted it to.
Mar 25

A Rose for my Rose

A Rose for my Rose

I can still remember the day I met her. I was in third grade, perched on a log among the school’s field, carefully constructing a dandelion crown from the grass around me. Each flower plucked from the earth with careful consideration of its stem length and vibrancy. My lissome fingers weaved the torn pedicels through one another. Among the soft sounds of the other children laughing and the wind shaking itself through the trees, a lamentation danced itself past my own humming and into my head. My eyes scanned the plain around me and they settled on a girl, beyond the tree line separating the field from the forest. She was leaned up against an oak, wrapping herself up as if the mid-March weather was much too cold.

My feet lit up and blinked as I trudged through the grass and the rain-kissed dirt towards her. She remained stoic as I sat down next to her small frame and asked her what was wrong.
Mar 24
Roses and Summer Dreams's picture

In Pieces

Huddled in the basement, all of us. We all are crying softly, like if we cry louder, the storm will raise its voice too. But, Bella gets louder every time she hears our furniture getting destroyed. I am now reciting prayers in my head, and thinking about the awful time that we will step out of our basement, only to see our dear house in pieces. And most of all, I am dreading the times where I see my parents sending a check to the furniture company and the re-builders of our house. I am afraid just to see how many 0's there will be. My beating heart tells me that I need to focus on the positive. There isn't a whole lot of positive things, but one of them is that we are finally getting rid of that horrible couch.

"Jennifer!" Grandma yells."How long will this last?! And, Oh My-how long will we last?!"
Mar 22
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye

Short-Term Disaster for a Short-Haired Girl

         I’ve always wanted to bleach my hair a lighter blonde. My hair is already a natural dirty color, and once my natural looking red hair dye faded out, I found some gentle bleaching dye that I had been eyeballing every time I came across it. I had asked my hairdresser if the dye was okay for my hair and she said yes, especially considering how healthy and undamaged by any other dyes my hair was. So I bought the hair dye, went home, and began to read the instructions.
Mar 22
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye
Nattilie Sanso's picture


I walk into the store with my head high and my shoulders back. I walk down one isle and don’t shy away from people looking in my direction. My walk is steady, but my heart is racing. A pick up a box labeled “FIRE RED HAIR DYE.” I walk straight to the counter and slide the box toward the cashier. When she asks how my day is going I respond with a smile and a “It’s good! How about yours?” She seems almost frightened by my enthusiasm so I just hand her the money, take the box of hair dye, and exit the store with my head down. I try not to let that awkward encounter ruin my good mood.

When I get home I realize that I had been smiling the whole time in the car. I was so excited that my parents had finally let me dye my hair. It’s the last day of summer and I was ready to go back to school with a cool, new hairstyle. I am going to be a highschooler this year and I feel so grown-up. I didn’t expect everything to go horribly wrong.
Mar 22
Roses and Summer Dreams's picture

Sherlock Holmes

Restless, I open my eyes. Weird. I do not hear Hazel’s soft breathing. Instead, I hear footsteps. Deciding to go back to sleep, I lie down again, urging myself to just fall asleep. Just fall asleep. Just fall asleep. Just fall asleep…
Briiiiiiiiing! Alarm clocks. Being a parent of a six-month-old baby, means that I lose patience and most of all; sleep. I walk angrily to Hazel’s crib. Staring at her, I realize her eye shape is different. The yellow stripes on her onesie were closer together. Usually, George  would tell me that I was hallucinating or just finding an excuse to panic. No. This was serious.
Where was the real Hazel? I grab the phone and quickly dial nine-one-one. Fake Hazel is crying as I impatiently stomp my foot on the bedroom floor. George comes running in.
“What’s the matter, Honey??!” he cries, tears forming.
Mar 22
fiction 2 comments challenge: Twist
layla.h's picture

A Morning Stroll

It can get so lonely sometimes. These days I’m finding it harder and harder to get out—these old bones won’t last much longer; I know that someday soon I will fade away to nothing—but I can only bear to go so long without seeing the sun. So this morning, I took a walk.

When I first stepped out into the sunshine, I couldn’t help but feel positively overwhelmed by it all—the warmth, the light, the scent of grass and the sound of birdsong; and most of all the memories it brought me. I saw myself in that spring landscape. It was as if I were watching a picture film of my life.

There, just atop that hill, I knelt as a child in my blue Easter dress and inspected the patch of daffodils before me. I would choose the best ones to bring home to my mother. I can still remember the way she smiled and swept me up into her arms when I returned home, careful not to crush the delicate blooms I was clutching in my small fist. Daffodils were her favorite flower.
Mar 22
Liam_Patterson214's picture


Once upon a time, a boy named Arthur was faced with the toughest decision a young boy could make. Earlier that week Arthur was down by the lake. A whisper came from behind him, it said "follow" He turned around, and a Wisp, a mythical creature said to lead you to your fate, was floating above the ground. In awe, Arthur followed the Wisp down a dark path. They arrived at this abandoned temple, Arthur said "W-where are we?" He turned to his side, and the Wisp was gone. Tempted by fear, he started to walk back. When suddenly, the Wisp returned, and said, "Go inside. Your fate awaits you." Then it disappeared into thin air. Arthur swallowed his fear, and walked inside. He was greeted by an old man, sitting in an old throne. "Come. Come closer" the man said. Arthur took a deep breath, and walked toward the man. "Who are you?" Arthur asked. "I am the oracle of Paneses. And I've summoned you here, to tell you of a great danger headed to your town." Arthur didn't believe him.
Mar 22
Jen L.'s picture

My Baby

I woke up in the middle of the night to hear the baby crying. It was my turn to calm it. Something was off though. The baby’s crying sounded different. It just wasn’t the same as before. I got up and went to the crib. It looked like my baby. It just didn’t feel like my baby. I took it out of the crib and started to rock it gently. It fell back to sleep. I decided to sit in the rocking chair with it for a while and figure out what’s wrong. Before I even sat down the answer came to me. It’s not my baby. It was someone else's, but who’s could it be and what happened to mine. I woke my husband up. I guess he could tell I was panicking.

    “What’s the matter” he asked.

    “Does this baby seem like our baby”, I probably looked freaked out because he gave me a look of confusion.

    “Yes. It does look like our baby. Why wouldn’t it not look like ours” he yawned.
Mar 22
K.grant's picture

Sweet Ellie

I walk into my daughters room to get her up, I lean over into the crib and just stare. That's not my child, this little girl is not mine. I grab her and check for sweet Ellie’s beautiful birthmark she has on the back of her ankle. It's there the child has the same exact birthmark. But this is not my child. I pick her up again and walk to the kitchen because even if its not mine shes got to be hungry. My husband walks in, he kisses my forehead and then kisses the mystery child and says “good morning Ellie”. And at this point I'm going crazy, this is not Ellie. I raise my voice and say “what? How can you not see that is not Ellie?”. I start to freak out, the tears start to stream down my face and I start to think the worst. I will never be able to find my sweet, precious girl, they are hurting her, they are already halfway across the world, my thoughts are going wild. I call the police, I call my mom, I post on facebook that I'm missing my sweet girl.
Mar 22
Connor Mazzarella's picture

The Goliath

A boy named Slick with his three sisters and single father lived in Ireland. Slick spent most of his time at a lake near his house. He would fish, skip stones, and go swimming in his shorts. Slick lived in a town called Paddle, sometimes he would meet a wise man named Jok. Jok would tell him stories about his past, but today he was going to tell Slick his prophecy. The prophecy was that Slick would have to kill a fish the size of a whale, with the teeth of a shark. Jok said the fish was called the Goliath. Slick was scared, but then he realized that if he killed the fish he would have enough food to feed his whole family for years. Jok had made a fishing rod that was very special. It could lure any fish to hook on, and it wouldn’t let them go. Slick took this rod to his shack that he had made at the lake. Then he went back home to tell his family about his prophecy. His youngest sister Coral was amazed, but his other two sisters didn’t believe him.
Mar 21


Please note that the subject I am adressing has played out many times throughout people's lives across the world, this story was for a school project and is not an actual accourance.

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