TheWritersRoom

So, I just received the body. The only things I knew beforehand were that the deceased was a prominent athlete and that his murderers were sending him to me. I don't know whether they murdered him due to his skills or other unknown reasons, but I don't need to know. However, judging by the stab wound and the third-degree burns, I'm willing to bet it was somewhat personal. Fortunately for them, so long as I get paid, I won't ask questions. And boy, did I get paid this time. Apparently, the people who commissioned me are extremely wealthy since they somehow managed to buy an Amazon truck look alike to deliver the body discreetly, as well as throw in a fat envelope of unmarked bills. And I'm not going to lie, I was slightly impressed. Not only from the fake Amazon truck but how much they gave me. I have enough to pay off the rent, for the materials for this burial, and a bit

Jay opened his eyes, looking up at the popcorn ceiling he was lying under. He didn't need to look at the clock to know it was late in the afternoon. He sighed, realizing that he had missed his online class lecture again. Jay slowly sat up, rubbing his cheek, trying to convince himself to get out of bed. Even though it had only been a week since he finished his last commission, his funds were running low again. He would need to do another commission. Hopefully, one higher paying than the last one and one that required less effort. Sitting up with a groan, he cradled his forehead. Looking over at his dresser, which was in the middle of puking up papers and socks, covered in many different glasses, filled with either ancient cold coffee sludge or lukewarm water, he finally gets up. Stumbling around his room, he walks down to the kitchen, slamming his foot accidentally against the only kitchen chair. "Ffffffffffffffff-" Jay starts to yell out when he's interrupted by the doorbell's loud

It was a typical summer Sunday at Fish Haven Aquarium. Families, couples, and children crowded the halls marveling at the aquatic creatures of all shapes and sizes on display. Everyone was enjoying their time admiring all the beautiful sea life…That is, except for Big Bertha, the giant Pacific octopus, who resided in one of the bigger tanks sitting several feet above the aquarium floor. She preferred to spend most of her time asleep in her tank, keeping to herself and never bothering anyone. The only time she was ever active was lunchtime, when the workers came and fed her a bucket full of shrimp, crabs, scallops, clams, and lobsters. The patrons always enjoyed watching Bertha greedily gobble her meal up before going back to sleep. To them, it was a moment of entertainment. Bertha knew she could keep the humans happy if they made her stomach happy. However, on this particular day, Bertha was not very happy at all. Every time patrons passed by her tank, some annoying kids would show up

Sitting in front of the screen, Sasha couldn't help but groan as she looked over her work. Or lack of it. She had sat down at her desk earlier in the evening with a nice mug of slightly caffeinated tea to write an entire story over an idea she had thought of for a literary journal she hoped to get it into. Now, it was three am, she had finished off three and a half cups of bitter-tasting matcha tea, and she had nothing to show for it. It felt like the blank page on her computer screen was mocking her as if it wasn't the one preventing her from moving on with her tale. Peering into her now empty fourth cup of tea, she heard a small rumble behind her. Quickly, she got up from her office chair and headed towards the nearby darkened kitchen. She was already stressed out and out of patience. But she couldn't quit now, not with the deadline so close. Opening the fridge, Sasha started to search for anything that might stop the inevitable a bit longer. "Hungry," something whispered faintly

One day in the magical land of Ilonata, a herd of unicorns went out to search for a lost foal. It had wandered into the deepest parts of the forest the night before to play a game of hide and seek with the other little unicorn foals but forgot to return home once it got dark. Usually, unicorns were quite skilled at blending into their backgrounds, so they could disappear behind trees and rocks with surprising ease. Their glittering coats and shining manes didn't give them away when they crept into the shadows. But the seeking unicorn didn't notice the hiding foal's shining mane, and no one came to look for it when it disappeared, which was probably why it got lost. The unicorns went into the forest and searched. They searched by the river, among the ferns, and behind the rocks and trees. But no matter where they looked, there was no sign of the missing foal. But suddenly, they discovered a trail of little muddy hoofprints that looked like they must have been left behind by the foal.

Edgar looked over to the bench in front of him before quickly erasing the line he just drew. He wanted to get this sketch right and impress everyone in his amateur art class. And this new statue was perfect. It was a statue of a young lady sitting on the park bench, her face frozen in an eternal peaceful expression, her stone-gray jacket billowing around her, and her hands outstretched in front of her. Sometimes a dove would land on top of her hands and rest there, the perfect spot for cold windy days. Edgar sighed as he tried to redraw the woman's hair. It was a short hairstyle, but it always seemed to change with each passing day. It was maddening. He set down his pencil and rubbed his hands together. Even with the gloves on, his hands were so cold that they felt like they were about to snap off with the next gust of wind. He breathed into them, hoping his breath was enough to warm them up for a few more minutes. The tiny bit of heat revived them for about a minute before getting

My name is Herman Fontaine. I am 29 years old and live in Ocala Florida with my girlfriend of three years, Sylvia Ramsey, several dogs, cats, turtles, and a couple of capybaras. I am running out of time, and there's no one left on the research vessel Hidden Minnow. Everyone is dead except for me. Though that's going to change pretty soon. Part of me doesn't want to relive this day. I just want to slip into unconsciousness, unaware of the danger lying underneath the floating driftwood I'm stuck on. But I know I can't do that. I can't let others go through what I and everyone onboard did. So, please listen to how we came across something that should have stayed hidden. I am...no, not anymore...I was a successful ocean photographer and I used to love the ocean. No, love isn't right. Obsessed would be a better term. From the first time I saw the sea in person at twelve years old, I knew I had found something that would play a vital role in my life. The sound of the waves periodically

May be I, am no more. May be I never was. Have you felt this weightlessness in your soul? You walk; your body moves; you can feel your bones grinding; there are aches and sores in your body and yet everything, is distant. Its like you are sleep-walking through life. Your face does that strange thing you call a 'smile' when you meet people. You do remember (vaguely) that there used to be a time when it felt like you were just an actor in a play; wearing your mask. There was this innate thrill to the performance, like basking in the thought of creating your very own magic show; an artist's muse. Somehow, it seems like the show never ended, and one day, you watched someone in the audience, sitting at the back, walking out; someone whom, it seemed, you once knew but couldn't remember. Someone who reminded you, of you. Suddenly, all you can find remaining on your stage, is your act. 'The performance'; a curtain that became your home till your hearth burnt out. Its then that you

How to stop a war a skit for "Worldmenders' Saga" by Yurix ----------------------------------- Rhea: This is getting ugly. There's so much tension in the air, I can smell it... Resham: Those Rex are riled up and ready for war. Alex: Can't we stop them? Resham: I wish we could. It looks like they already past that mark. Alex: Huh? Resham: How can I explain this... Kid, there's a lot of different ways to start a war, and only a few good ones to stop it. Rhea: What do you know about war? Resham: ...Family matters. Rhea: You too? Alex: So, what are the good ones? Resham: First way is to make it too difficult for the enemy to fight. Take out their food supplies, spoil their water lines, cut their funds, break their weapons... Rhea: Yeah... but we don't really have a lot of time or manpower to do that on our own. Resham: Second: Find out why they declared war and do something about it. Rhea: You'd have to find someone who has a clear enough mind to talk to. Resham: Third, speak with both

Power Mare heard a buzzing in her ears as she regained consciousness. The Horse struggled to lift her heavy eyelids. It took a few blinks until at last, she opened them all the way. The Horse’s vision was blurred and foggy. Power Mare tried to sit up and rub her eyes. Except, she couldn’t. The Horse twisted her head round and even though her vision was still blurred, the Horse could feel her arms were tied behind her back! Not just tied behind her but her wrists and elbows were tightly bound together! And it didn’t stop there; Power Mare tried to sit up only to find that her knees and ankles were also bound together. The more Power Mare grew conscious, the more she noticed how bound she was. Her mouth had several rags stuffed inside it with a strip of duct tape wrapped round her mouth preventing her from shouting for help! Finally, Power Mare’s vision fully recovered and she found to her horror she was naked on top of everything!! Power Mare frantically twisted her head side to side