Jerome worked as an engineer at a large company. Every day, he brought home something new to show to his children.

What kid ever received a letter back in return? Sure, lots of us write to Santa Clause every year, but who besides me ever gets a reply?

In the end, it wasn’t his fault Nor was it hers.

It was a hard night of sleeping and I was tossing and turning, so I flipped on my side, facing the wall as the back of my hand brushed against something, pulsating, I had touched it. And when I flipped onto my other side, turning my back to it, it took that moment… to pounce.

The door creaked open, revealing a long forgotten room. Hesitance filled the orphan’s stomachs but that feeling soon wore off. Hand in hand, they inched forward.

“I’ll tell yer one thing” my dad told me, “if it’s it’s a circle it will bounce back, if it’s a square then leave it right there” I don’t know what it means; I’m beginning to suspect he had shape-syndrome, a study I’ve recently taken part of as a a psychiatrist is training.

Marc and Joline had been friends for many years. Despite long gaps in communication, their reunions felt familiar and comforting as if no time had passed. They quickly fell back into the easy camaraderie that characterized their friendship.

Do you know the muffin man, who lives on Drury Lane? Well I do and boy do I have a story about how I met him. It was a fairly boring day, as Mondays usually are, and I was driving to work when suddenly a Muffin delivery truck ran a red light in front of me and crashed into a wall

It was an ordinary day at the office of the private eye, if it weren't for the fact that my boss was out because of a cold. I wanted to close the office, but no, no, my boss had insisted I at least take in any cases people wanted him to investigate.

It was definitely not the way things were supposed to be done, but we did it, and all promised to never speak about it again.

Abigail stood in shock staring at her father's mutilated corpse. She couldn't even find it within her to cry.

"Nay, not the enchanted milk!" cried the maiden, her hands trembling. for she knew well the magic it contained. "Ah but it is actually enchanted whip cream!" The squire proclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "It could bring you many prospects... as long as you try it."

Today was the day. The cucumber sacrifice ritual I was supposed to host was going to start in an instant. I knew the Cats kingdom needed me to hold this event, as I was the only cat in town who did not suffer from cucumbofphobia. It was my duty. Yet here I was, hesitating.

While cleaning out her grandmother's attic, Eliza finds a box of old letters. "Mum, did you know about these?" she asks, holding up a faded envelope.

In this world, you are the victim or the offender, and I refuse to be the victim.

On Tuesday, Megan found herself looking at her self in the mirror without recognising herself?

The cannon had taken them all out, he was the only one left now, however they continued to fire, and he didn’t have much time left.

Elliot’s foot tapped furiously on the hardwood. Whatever the results were would change the trajectory of his life. His mother sat across from him, stone-faced as ever. He could see her silently praying. She did that when she was nervous.

I live in a world where most people willingly become zombies because "everyone else is doing it & they seem fine." And yet that is the world I live in. I have stayed inside, fearing for my life because I don't want to become a zombie, and people think I have some mental illness.

Yes I fondly reminisce of the times we shared. It is not often I find a genuine soul who cares for me and recognizes I too have a soul. It was an enthralling melding of two people which I rarely if ever experience. I miss that person and wish to see them once more.

The students stumbled out of the underground library like a horde of academic zombies.

On a weekend hike, Gregory finds a forgotten cabin. "Do you think anyone still lives here?" he wonders aloud, peering through the dusty window.

Era quase meio-dia. Pedro, estudante da Unicamp, não aguentava mais esperar pelo almoço. Sua

“Are you going to hurt me?” Charli peeped, cowering behind the shelf. She eyed the tall man, noting how his features seemed to sharpen as he lifted his hat to meet her gaze. She wondered if she should start running, though her thoughts were interrupted by the man’s response.

The Bronx office was chaos. It was the last night of the month. One third of the staff was out with the new rat flu variant. There were rolling brownouts all over the borough. There was a triceratops loose on Tremont Boulevard.

Sometimes in life you’re overwhelmed by choices, to the point of paralysis. Right now, you find yourself in the opposite situation. There is only one choice. It won’t be fun, but it’s the only thing you can do. You’ve wracked your brain and don’t see another option.

In a world where people had naturally purple hair, could levitate at least 3 inches off the ground, and surgically removed their fangs to avoid piercing their own lips - I had nothing. Nothing to contribute and nothing to stand for. A “Normie”. With not much to fight for.

The Baguette Boys had pulled off 12 perfect pastry heists in a row. The next one would be their baker’s dozen. It needed to be a spectacular score, and hopefully big enough for them to retire from carbohydrate larceny. What would it be?

Once upon a time in the happiest trek, in the happiest Forest lived the happiness creatures the world has ever know the trolls.

“Well look who it is!”, he shouted. “You buttered crumpet! You double stuffed sandwich cookie! You greasy lemon, you pig in an electric blanket, you shredded clam salad, you!” Blushing, I said, “yes, what is it?” He coughed, then said, “well how are you?”