If he says it once again, I’ll kill him, she thought. If he says anything else… She was slouching over the kitchen sink and doing the dishes from dinner. If I had a dishwasher, I’d be standing in the middle of the living room now shouting at him. Sometimes less is really more. Fewer conveniences, more silence.  Bitterly she gave a laugh and put another tumbler down on the dish towel. What does it matter that she doesn’t have a dishwasher, because her mother-in-law has made do with a mug all her life?

The following is a working Title name. Just something I wrote out quickly today. Is rather poorly written if I do say so, but just upping it as is. Might continue this piece, may not. But here is, as said, the Pilot episode.

Spiral (Working Title)

Episode One: Pilot

Its late and there’s nothing to do but to look at the blank white screen. Blink….. Blink……Blink.

Close off all the lights in the room still the screen Blink….Blink….Blink.

How long had he been laying there the laptop on his desk was closed, still when he did the same with his eyes, Blink…. Blink……Blink

that empty white page that just poured out every thought and feeling he had to get away.

I walked across the endless beach a dry and barren land that stretched out before me. I was always here and the sand was always around me so far as my memory could attest. I walked and needed nothing while the sand was warm and the world unimaginative my path was bearable. I stopped when I pleased but soon found no reason to take in the vast endless ocean of sand that swirled around me yet was so perfectly calm and silent.

Reminds me of the ocean

“Oh, sweet flower, oh, careless darling. Don't you know I love you?”, I asked her. She didn't reply. She had become so distant nowadays. She kept to herself and everlasting dreams. She didn't even look at me anymore. Though I never stopped admiring her. Her porcelain skin was dusted with little make-up. Her natural beauty was more than enough to enthrall me. Her soft blond hair fitted her face perfectly even though some had strayed, touching her lips. I still loved the imperfection.

     Moonlight spilled into the quiet room. Dust shifted as the night breezed swirled through. It felt like a deep breath, the filling of cool oxygen into your burning lungs. Everything felt so new, so reformed. I couldn't tell if it was the absence of gravity that made my heart race or the the nostalgic presence of an old flame. It had to be the latter. She floated around curled into a ball. Her curly black spiraled around her head like a dark halo. It all felt so free to me.

The fantasy was a dream. A lucid vision of twisted memories and wants. The bitter tinge of broken promises and regrets awakened me, as bead of sweat rolled across my fore head. Her spot on the bed was empty. As it had been for awhile now. A sense of nostalgia crawled over me as I feigned that the lines in the sheets looked exactly the same as the day she left. That time had overlooked them and change never took place, But I was fooling myself. Everything changes. If a century of living hadn't taught me anything. It was that; everything changes.

John slid down the stairs in a daze. His bare feet slapped audibly against the chilly steps, his hand ran down the small dimples of the egg-shell white wall. It was cold that night, the coldest night so far, and the rest of his family lay bundled under fabric cocoons atop of their adaptable, NASA-inspired mattresses.

**Don't know if you guys will even like this but I wanted to get Emma's secret out. Hope everyone enjoys it. Suggestions are welcome! Oh and sorry there is nothing from Freya's point of view but..I am tired and don't know what to write. So hopefully you can just take this for what it is. Sorry in advance for any grammar/spelling mistakes.**

Tristan

**Just a continuation. Sorry it took so long. I haven't been able to decide what to do with this. Got a good idea of what I am going to do now though...Critique please! Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.**

Tristan

The first rays of the morning sun hit the flat grey surface of the monolith, on a cold winter morning, like the gentle touch of a goddess, like child's play, like a dying man's last breath. The rectangular shape twists and bends at the corners, trying to escape itself. The rough concrete and steel holds it together in a timeless embrace.

Every time Devon walked to his car, he was reminded of how much he hated this campus.

Ses belles boucles dorées dansaient sur front alors qu’on eut une risée. Ses yeux bruns disparaissaient derrières ses paupières. Son petit nez frétillait de bonheur, ses belles lèvres rouges et bien tracées laissaient s’échapper des petits rires.

A man writes to the women he loves from prison. (first person/1393wrds)

*If anyone has any ideas for this story please comment them! I hope you all enjoy!*

*Warning: Some things may be triggering to anyone with Self injury issues..Also please note that writing stories is not my strong suit so I apologize for any mistakes. One more thing, when I put {} around something it is meant to be italics. I do not yet know how to do that... Please comment!*

Found myself at heaven's gate. No sound of joy or eternal glow.Smoked my cigarette and knocked. And knocked again. One gate cracked slowly. A green sleepy devil answered :" Real-estate investment!!! Get out before i call the hell hounds !".

AN:A different version of "Worth Fighting For" that manages to complete ignore DesertRat's good advice. Ah well, I like this one a little better.

My first attempt at a "flash fiction" piece. That is, one that's under 1000 words. Barely made it at 993. Not happy with not being able to build it up correctly, but I don't care.

~~~

"See? Didn’t I tell you guys this diner was the best joint in all of New York?” former Private McGuffy asked his war buddies, only lately returned from overseas.

“You said a lot of things, Harry. When do we get to meet this wife of yours?”

AN:More flash fiction, though this feels really forced.

AN:No idea what to make of this one, just threw it together.

AN: A quick piece of flash I wrote to break up the monotony of revising my pieces that aren't flowing. Ironically I've already revised this once.

Mória heads to class and sits down at the back, trying to make herself invisible.

"Hi," says the girl beside her, "my name is Ashley. What's yours?"

Hoping the conversation will be over soon, she replies, "Mória."

"Mória, what a lovely name. Are you new?"

"No."

"Oh, well it was nice to meet you."

"You too."

The teacher came rushing in. "Sorry I'm late, everyone, I'm having a terrible morning. I trust you all had a great summer?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the whole class.

"No," said Mória quietly.