join us
{it's free}
already a member?
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
I pick him up and hold him in front of the fridge. A ragged winter moth has fumbled its way inside and plastered itself against the brushed aluminum. His nose twitches, short wifts of air jetting from the folds of his nostrils.
A young boy gazed down on the sun-stained, dust-strewn plaza of a dying city from the comfort of a lofty terrace.

Thousands of people were seated quietly far below him. From where he stood, leaning lazily on a carved stone balustrade, it was impossible to see them a(more)
At some point in all the greatest myths ever written, the hero must pull back the veil that pens in the world of matter  and look into the eyes of god. It's as if heroes must be disillusioned of the world before they can move forward. They must see it(more)
Here are the rules of the game:

It will be someone you know, but you won't know it when you first see them. You will have to unravel it over time. It sleeps inside them like a stone in the heart of the earth, vibrating endlessly, aching to(more)
My reason for fighting evaporated in the predawn air on the final moon-day of the full harvest, along with the mist.

Magnhild was too proud to be left back in the village with the other shield wives. And she proved the mettle of that pride time and tim(more)
Long story short-- I didn't.

By the time the Daimler had screeched to a halt at the end of the pier, all that was left of the last boat off the island was a brooding smokestack on a dark horizon. We didn't know it at the time, bu(more)
Mara paused. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon. A light wind licked the tips of the long grass gently, tickling her fingers. Under other circumstances, it might have been peaceful.

The army had ridden out a fortnight ago. The soldiers were beleaguered from(more)
She lay strewn across the clammy stones of her cell, naked, shivering, bathed in moonlight. Just beyond the shafts of pale light from the barred window, out of sight, came a ragged voice. Soft, almost weak, but housed in the silence of her solitude, it cut through her breast(more)
Her smile was a delicate thing, like holding a child's hand. Warm in a fearful sort of way. At least that's how I saw it.

Maybe that's why she left.
Flames ate through the paper-thin tenement walls like locusts, devouring the meager possessions of its impoverished residents and replacing them with emptiness and light.

It was a hard and scrutinizing light, the kind which renders the thinness of one's life inobscurable.

Sullivan lost his elderly mother(more)
How do you tell a man to whom you owe your life a hard truth? How can you look into the eyes that pulled you from your own darkness and tell him that his dream is a husk?

There's no clean end to it now. I know that(more)
Glass twinkles on wet asphalt in the glow of a failing streetlight.  Steam peels free from the crumpled chassis, slinks along the hood, swathing the vacant, staring headlights with a foggy rheum.

The scene implies motion, turmoil, trauma, and noise, making the absence of such characteristics all the more(more)
Emotion is tangible. Quantum mechanics applies. Even the most unobtrusive means of observing will alter the equation irrevocably. Whatever the world sees of you, by definition, is impure.

I suppose it follows, then, that we are most beautiful when we're alone. Supposing, of course, that beauty is the(more)
He lived his life based on what he felt he owed to those around him.

Everything from the faint firelight gloaming in the farmhouse windows,  to the musky breathing of the oxen just the other side of the barn wall to his back, to the patter of rain that(more)
I'm suffocating.
The air is too full of ghosts.

They settle in your chest like a nest of vipers. Writhing, cloying, sweet lullabye-tendrils that cradle and constrict until you feel the gentle tug of other worlds through invisible windows.

Their venom courses. It strikes where you are(more)