Pillar of the community

Jim Larson was a fine shop owner. At 9 p.m. nightly, you would see this pillar of the community descend the stairs of his basement and go to a secret room within. He would sit and talk for hours to the corpses hanging on the wall. Some old, some new.

Challenge

Disturb me in 50 words or fewer

...we all float down here...

Kmrh1993

89 reads

Collector

I pried it open.My fingers gripped onto the smooth enamel. I pulled and tugged. It snapped and popped as it loosened. Finally it was free. I held it in my hand. Thick blood droplets splattered the surface. I'll add this to the collection.

Challenge

Disturb me in 50 words or fewer

...we all float down here...

amberrhian

272 reads

my daughter

My daughter isn't my daughter and she doesn't know it. She will never know how I cut her out of her mothers stomach and how I watched her slowly bleed to death. I guess its good that she was my own twin sister. Amy looks just like me. Almost identical

Cover image for post White rabbit., by Prose

Prose in Prose

1.8k reads

White rabbit.

Austin, 2014. An idea was born into the streets. Two men walking, teeth dry from the ways of liquor. One stares in front. Downtown festival. Talks to the city ahead, but to the one walking next to him.

I have an idea for an app.

Small city, the grey heat. Overcast no match. No hope to burn off the film from the damage last night. Hotel lounge, hair of the dog. The city had grown, and they were strangers now, each waiting to leave there, one by plane, one by car and dog. Talks of Prose., the font. Talks of why it would work, a family the size of a world. Strangers yet not quite. Revolt against apathy. Earned things, lost in paces too fast to retain soul, to keep their light. Drinks and words, the lobby bar turned museum for the old death of the words eaten by technology. A way out through a way back in.

We are all here now.

Thank you for being here with us.

Thank you.