|My money and my mouth.|
The Childhood Innocent "Mom, I'll be alright! Now lemme go!" Matthew complained, trying to squirm out of his mother's arms.The Childhood Innocent by Midnight-Day
She smiled, planting a kiss on his head before stepping back. "Are you sure you have everything? Your lunch? Your pencils? Your --"
"Yeah, yeah, I have it!" he interrupted, keeping his eyes on the steadily approaching yellow blob on the road. As it came near, it slowed down slightly and faded into the more distinct form of a school bus. The doors opening with a quiet sss, Matt hopped on the first step, then paused for a second.
"Bye, sweetie!" his mother called, waving.
He winced, muttering, "I told you not to call me that in front of the other kids!" But he gave a half-hearted wave and climbed on the bus.
Walking down the crowded aisles, he felt so small in front of everyone else. Add that to the fact that this was his first ever day of school, he was a puny kindergartener, and there were
A Modest Solution2088.A Modest Solution by SurrealCachinnation
Birth month 7.
Mei looked up the records on the day the City Council announced the arrival of the Vending Machines and Microwaves: Day 12, Month 9, Year 2088. It was a healthy curiosity. Her parents never spoke of it, but she always wondered about the other children she might have grown up with.
“You are named after my mother,” Mei’s mother had told her once. “You have her eyes. Deep and brown like the earth. Your grandmother passed away while I was pregnant with you. It seemed right for you to inherit her name.”
“What was Mr. Lee’s firstborn’s name?” Mei asked.
Her mother only pursed her lips and ordered Mei to peel the potatoes for supper.
Mei had been six at the time and didn’t understand the concept of death. Mr. Lee, their neighbor, had a son the same year that Mei was born. There were baby pictures of the boy
When Larceny Runs in Blood"Damned thief." Oscar sighed and turned the television off. There'd been another accident, and more deaths. He didn't know why he still watched the news, because more often than not it was depressive. It reminded him that the lives of he and his family were just objects to be stolen, some day.When Larceny Runs in Blood by Swiss-Dilettante
"Darned thief, dear." His wife Lily arched a brow at him, and darted her eyes across their children, her way of saying: You will not screw these kids up, you will not give them excuse to swear and do wrong.
"Hmm." Oscar nodded, not wanting to point out their offspring would pick up "unacceptable" language from other sources. They both knew. Perhaps they should move to West Virginia. "Yeah, sorry, you're right. It's just in my nature."
Their oldest child chuckled and pardoned himself from dinner, while their two younger lingered behind for a moment with incomprehensive looks and cute, pouting lips before toddling off, their mouths still soiled from their uncoordinated eating.
Lily called af
|These are all the submissions I get for ScreamPrompts. Check them out; not all the submissions I receive make it to the group's gallery but they are all in this collection. You might find some hidden gems in here!|
Writers of the Revolution: February 19, 2012Thanks for all your suggestions about what this new feature should be called! We haven't worked out what the final name should be yet, but we hope to reach a decision soon. In the meantime, feel free to keep suggesting if you have any more ideas!Writers of the Revolution: February 19, 2012 by theWrittenRevolution
Featured by Solarune
SkysongMA is one of my favourite prose writers on dA. It's not only that her writing is sleek and professional, that her characters feel real and easy to empathise with, that her dialogue jumps off the screen; what I like most about her stories is how solid they are. You are left feeling both satisfied and hungry for more. If you're looking for something good to read this Sunday, I cannot recommend her fiction more highly.
"Her smile makes me want to punch things. People—not just Practioners, real people who should know better—smile a
The PainterThe PainterThe Painter by Cloudy-Darkness
The fumes of pharmaceuticals, the unnaturally clean odors, the overly bright corridors coated with white; all a familiar sight to two kinds of people, namely the patients who took to roaming the hallways of the hospital, and those who worked to keep them in check. Both would get sick of the monotony and tedium really quickly, and the latter would be even more jaded.
He was one of those unfortunate enough to be forced into staying inside, and since the day he got the job, he longed for paid leave. His current financial position wasn't one that offered much room for sickness and random departures from the set schedule. He still remembers the way he swallowed more tablets than my colleagues prescribed just to get the energy to get out of bed. That was not one of his best days.
Yet, he somehow managed to climb up the ranks in a speed that astounded even himself. He knew that bending a few rules, like never coming in carrying diseases etcetera, would pay off. Four year