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Four times a day,
we help you
get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
Hit publish.
Read. Be Read.
Write. Now.
in a slump
My goal was to fill the world with hope, but to do that I absorbed all the fears and doubts of everyone I love. I gave them my hope. I hope they got better. I hope they found beauty in this world filled with splendor. I wanted them to(more)
They love the you they want you to be. And they sing that love so sweetly that it hurts not to try to be that. It happens slowly, and you don't notice. But before long you're more interested in being their you than yours.
I set sail with the morning sun over my left shoulder. The way generations of local lore told us never to go. I didn't sail out of hubris or naivety. But because the only thing worse than death is not knowing.

I took a small vessel and lef(more)
Our lives were designed to be short, and our sense of foresight was designed accordingly.

We came from thickset forest and fields of tall grass. At any given time, our entire world was a short sight line about half the radius of a circle. Objects flitted in an(more)
We were a family of wrenching anxiety and hidden scribblings, prayers and other secrets, yet in our need to know more than was good for us we intruded on each other always. We didn't respect locked doors. We fought to have the last word, even if it was only(more)
Why the hostess, blonde and 20 years too young, waited until the guests were here to polish the banister with artisan bee pollen is maybe the biggest mystery of the night.

"Miracle stuff from a little apiary near our place by the lake," she says. "He's a wonderfu(more)
Fortunately, the only thing she found was the porn.

There were way worse things on there, diagrams of 3D-printed guns, parcel bomb schematics, a couple lists of names I'd typed up when my temper ran a little too hot. When she stumbled into the folder-inside-a-folder-inside-a-folder and popped open(more)
Pollen probably killed my father, a decade before the drink. More than the mess he left, the fist holes in the drywall and the scars on everything else, I remember his breathing, rattling like a spray paint can, hissing like a cobra.
Just start. Momentum matters. Like overcoming rejection, or public speaking, or working out. Waiting for the right moment to start hardly ever works. There are refined techniques. There is an art to it. But first you need to get better at the act  of doing.
It wasn't his fault.


Feng had recently gotten a stunning red dress, and Dwight fumbled on a generator, so Ace didn't hesitate before bursting into a sprint towards the red-cloaked figure.

It's not his fault that she had the same idea, and so when the(more)
There used to just be milk. It was white. It came in a glass bottle, or a waxed cardboard carton. That was what you got, and you either take it or leave it.

I think about that fact while staring at a wall of milk varieties in the(more)
Who were we before we stopped loving each other

Were we wiser

Did we know something in our innocence that we lost through experience

Did it only seem infinite because we never tested it
Did we build it for a fair-weather world only for it(more)
The driver's side door on my work vehicle won't open from the outside any more. Supposedly some latch inside the door-panel is broken, and the whole thing has to come off in order to fix it. I wanted to do it myself, but the screws they use to attach(more)
"You're hurt."
Joey ducked his head, glaring at Susie through the eyes of his mask. "Go away."
"But you got hurt in there."
"So what, Susie? Go away, stop bothering me."
"But Frank said-" (more)
"This sucks," Quentin hissed, sucking in a heavy breath through his teeth. His lips were a light purple and his hands a bright pink thanks to the cold. "I didn't think the Entity even knew WHAT snow was."
"Tell me about it," Jake mumbled, swearing under his breath when(more)