The blades of red grass stretched over her head. They clung wetly to her as she pressed through them, but when she checked her skin, she found no crimson stains. What little of the sky she could see was black as mold and smeared with blood. The line between day and night was arbitrary. Warm …
Once in a while, he runs away. The story ends like this: he comes back. He knows that, but that doesn’t stop his escapes. The story happens because of this: he doesn’t know. His life isn’t bad, lonely, or empty. What life is, not just for him, is heavy. Sometimes he feels the hairline fractures …
The long and bloody dance ended at that gas station at one in the morning. Anton found Jonas filling his car with shaking hands, dirty clothes, and a week’s worth of stubble turning into a beard. Not that Anton looked any better. He lingered by the ice machine, savoring his last moments with the man. …
When the clouds blotted out the sun, and the ground turned black with death, the Sunholder began to build his tower. Rotting wind and doubt buffeted him day and night, but it didn’t stop him from rising the next day to continue his work by candlelight. Those few who still breathed on the earth saw …
Author's Note: Now that I'm actually going for the English creative writing major, I have some assignments I can start sharing! So here's the first flash fiction on the site, as well. Let's see if you can figure out what the prompt was! To the New York City Chief of Police James Buchanan, This is …
and when the alarm pulls us from sleep, i’ll do everything i can to make it last a little longer. thirty minutes left and we had things to do, but you’ll press your face into my neck and i’ll let you sleep. twenty-five minutes left and i’m awake with an eye on the clock, more …
Drabble Inspired by //Banks by Lincoln// And no matter what I do, I can never find a place where this feels right. I’m in a place in my life where I’m finally ready to leave all that I want behind, but my love, I wanted to bring you with me. Maybe your promises and our …
You’re sitting in your bedroom with the girl that you love. She’s trembling and shy in the privacy of that room, and your thoughts are coming slow under the weight of fear. You know that she loves you but there’s always been walls behind you and the people you care about. A blurry line where …
There are so many ways to tell someone that you love them. There’s love in the desperate need of a kiss. There’s love in the smile when you see each other. There’s love in the way you hold them close, love in the way that closeness feels like home. There’s love in the anchoring warmth …
Ben Sidorenko's Writing 