Humor
The Ice Slick: An Apology
Dear Montréal, Well, this has been a fun two days. Ha, ha. Sorry, I am not well-known for my sense of humour. Often I have been told that I should mind my own business and know my place. Offensive, yes, but I can understand the sentiment. But I needed to vent a little before the season was over. I often feel that you do not appreciate what I give you every summer, and that winter is the price you gotta pay.
By Kendall Defoe about 5 hours ago in Fiction
Kitsune's Intervention: A Very Inconvenient Yokai
"I'm telling you, Christie, he is CHEATING on you!" She sighed hard. "Min... I know you think that, but Darryl would never cheat. He is so thoughtful and so, so loyal. He is just the absolute sweetest. I lucked out so hard marrying him. It feels like a dream."
By Alicia Anspaughabout 9 hours ago in Fiction
The Android Detective: Help Wanted
Vesper Lyra leaned her lanky frame into the door to push through the entrance lacking working electronics. A simple, painted sign in a boring and nondescript font announced that one would find a Clyde Sharpman, P.D. inside. Among the bright lights, vibrantly coloured signs, and announcements everywhere else on Wetwater Street, how she even noticed the place was a mystery. Not to mention the roughly cut-out cardboard sign in the unit’s dirty window advertising that the private detective, Clyde Sharpman, wanted help.
By Jean-François Lamotheabout 9 hours ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam3 days ago in Fiction
