Satire
Colourless
Rose Crawford woke once more as the screams of her alarm bellowed into her ears. It was the morning of April 16th and today of all days was essential for her career. She slipped out of bed to begin her day with the ever familiar attitude of a dull, dreary disposition, accompanied by the internal longing that lingered inside the pit of her stomach, day after day. She opened the door and left her house, entering the streets of a black and white world. A colourless society it was, one with no life, no spark, no excitement, and literally no pigment other than the shadows of grey in her opposing extremes. A world with no colour. This was Rose's life.
By Anna Harrison5 years ago in Fiction
Back On The Bull
"The house was perfect!" Kendra thought to herself as she walked up to the front door. She carefully held the damn blue vase for her buyer that had to be shown in every room. Meticulous beautiful garden out front. Three car garage. Wrap around farmers porch, an acre of land, gorgeous views; How was this place still on the market? Listed again for the third time in two years. She just pushed back negative possible reasons in her head. She wanted this deal to go through. She needed this deal to go through.
By C. H. Richard5 years ago in Fiction
A Night at the Bull's Market
This black tie party just reached a biblical level of indulgence. A man with half a haircut pulled a silk sheet from off the lobby's new state, and we all admired the raging bull of gold and its underlying plaque: 'The Lawrence Gilhourey Economics Analytical Center'.
By Jamie Todd5 years ago in Fiction
Flight to Pamplona
I’ve never participated in the Pamplona bull run—the encierro—in San Fermin, Spain. The sheer thunderous weight of the large beasts who are funneled into the same municipal corridors as the human adventurers must be one of the most powerful vises for the adrenal glands ever devised. Confused animals are stoked into a rage at this juxtaposition, and the hard horns meeting fragile flesh, quite unnecessarily, fuels the exhilaration of unpredictable potential outcomes.
By Gerard DiLeo5 years ago in Fiction
Aunt Jemima Loves Pancakes
Aunt Jemima moved swiftly through the rain pulling the collar of her jacket tighter against her neck - tears ran down her cheeks. The wind grew stronger, practically turning the umbrella inside out. The neon light beckoned as she got closer to Joe's Diner. She entered, shook out her umbrella and sat on a stool at the counter. “Nasty night,” the waitress said, “What can I get for you?”
By pamela mayer5 years ago in Fiction
Bulls > Bears > Humans
There was a world that had three classes of animals: bulls, bears, and humans. The bulls were at the top. Aggressive and carefree, they tackled every venture with a thrust of their horns. Although lacking in morality, their modus operandi led to their successful reign over the cautious bears and frail humans. They dominated the business world due to their relentless risk-taking. Their ruthless attacks on fellow candidates rendered them unbeatable in politics. Their social circles had no room for humans, and only the slightest for a few bears.
By Julian Moritz5 years ago in Fiction
Tree Salad
You do not have to be vegan or vegetarian to consume this salad since it is universal, actually only for Earthlings, except for trees. I doubt they will like this salad since it would be somewhat cannibalistic on their part if they do. We have known the feel, taste, and fill of human meat throughout our history during lean times and when it was believed to contain one’s essence and strength. These facts always amazed me. How ignorant were we? How keen on bloody flesh and licking bones were our not-so-remote ancestors? There breathed brainless cannibals in the last century, notwithstanding the demented variety who had their freaking minutes of fame. Hannibal Lecter was just the cinematic version. But this recipe is for a tree salad, not a human one. I have no recipe for human flesh, except to kiss, lick, and bite it when in love.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Fiction
