Prose
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- Written by: ladyofthecanyon
- Category: Prose
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He told me something
beautiful
before I awoke.
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- Written by: ladyofthecanyon
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 1524
he stalks about her house all day
awaiting her return.
I don’t blame him.
To sit curled and warm in
blankets that sing her scent
cuddled happily in the knowledge that
she will return—
and she will—
is almost as good as
watching her walk through that door.
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- Written by: vlindernabokov
- Category: Prose
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That broken window always let the chill in and all the warmth out. Like a great gaping void leading into the darkness with its shattered teeth around the perimeter it had always stood. All the rest of the Noctifer house stood an epitome of renovation and restoration but for this one window up in the attic where the wind blew in the most cold. Whenever Ms. Noctifer was asked why she would not have it fixed, she replied ‘because I cannot.’
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- Written by: Joshua Hennen
- Category: Prose
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Frank Sanders is a nationwide syndicated columnist who dispenses his “hillbilly wisdom” to any who will listen. Frank works as a painter and sometimes graveyard landscaper in Beckley WV.
I fell so embarrassed to write you about this subject. My husband has been a good decent man for the past twenty years of our marriage. He lost his job about three years ago, however, and has become very complacent about finding new employment. He has turned down multiple offers for work, some even paying nearly as much as he was making before. I have been working two jobs and am considering a third to help make ends meet.
Read more: Frank Advice by Frank Sanders
Brady Hammer stole a peach pie from Old Lady White’s kitchen window sill.
He wasn’t harboring any larcenous intentions against the maiden woman when he woke up early for his four-to-midnight shift at the mine that afternoon hungry as a spring-skinny bear and still a little groggy from wasting so much of what was left of the previous night at a saloon with a few of the boys. In fact, outside of raiding the occasional watermelon patch with the other coal camp kids as a child himself back home in Kentucky, he’d never been what anyone would consider any kind of thief.
He wasn’t harboring any larcenous intentions against the maiden woman when he woke up early for his four-to-midnight shift at the mine that afternoon hungry as a spring-skinny bear and still a little groggy from wasting so much of what was left of the previous night at a saloon with a few of the boys. In fact, outside of raiding the occasional watermelon patch with the other coal camp kids as a child himself back home in Kentucky, he’d never been what anyone would consider any kind of thief.
Read more: Brady Hammer Stole A Pie
