A decade has passed. Outside: higher seas, angrier neighbors, a world more chaotic. He rises, heavy with years, and opens wide the door.
A decade has passed. Outside: higher seas, angrier neighbors, a world more chaotic. He rises, heavy with years, and opens wide the door.
After 3 years, 692 stories, and 1,592 critiques, OneFortyFiction has come to the end. Thanks to everyone for your time, love, and joy.
He had to be precise, yet his hand trembled and the candies came tumbling down. He stormed out of the store cursing his conscience again.
His skin was torn. The scar ran jagged, his face ruined. His hands were strong, his touch gentle. Here lies a man, a life well spent.
He texted me during math class. I caught his eye. We met for coffee. Classes over, we went to my place; proved one plus one makes three.
The plague comes. Power becomes extinct. Empires crumple. The end is nigh. “Not yet,” she says, her fingers flying over the keys. “Not yet.”
Jake picked up the sharp knife, fingered the golf ball sized cyst under his arm, and wished (not for the first time) he had health insurance.