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| Thanks so much to =3wyl, who created this awesome support stamp! If you support Ten of Ten's weekly feature, please put this stamp in your journals and your signature! All exposure and support is greatly appreciated! |
Seashells by the SeashoreIt was like they didn't want us. Just because we were different. I didn't blame them. We scared them, made them look bad. But to toss us out into the snow, that was a different story. To give the hundreds of us a chance to escape, but then just tell us we never should have been alive, and to send us into the cold frozen world for the sake of some sick experiment? Yeah, we could escape. It's easy, just take the transmitter out of your left arm, get the barcode on the back of your neck covered up, and you can continue life as one of the regular humans you've observed for so long. Sounds easy, right? Not. You're forgettinSeashells by the Seashore
Happiness Is A Warm GunIf the driver's eyes were not tricking him, the winding road he now found himself navigating was transcending the earth and transforming into a treacherous path of moonlight to the top of the world. His hands were gripping the steering wheel as tightly as they could but he could swear he felt them falling away from it in their fatigue. And yet, he also felt as if he were still, like he wasn't the one determining the motion that propelled him forward. There was a light pressure against his right shoulder which every so often would shift and move as his passenger shifted and moved in their sleep. It was so hard to focus on the street. &nbHappiness Is A Warm Gun
Petals For The NooseThe parlor was cold. This was the first thing she noticed as she walked into the room that smelled of dust and disuse -- how a room could smell of disuse she didn't know, but she struck it up as the musty air that seemed to occupy a room once it was vacant for quite some time. A window had been left open, she saw, and solved the mystery of the chill in the air.Petals For The Noose
She hated the cold. It reminded her of her younger brother's death several years prior: He had been a sickly child in his youth, always slipping from one illness into another almost as soon as he had recovered to health. It was early November, a week or two from his birthd
What Is Love? I'm missing a piece of me. A critical part. I suppose I was born much like every other person. I'm just missing one crucial piece. They've forgotten a heart. Where my heart should be is a cavity with nothing inside except a small black stone. Cold and hard.What Is Love?
Unfeeling.
Love. What was it about love? It's what everybody had. What everyone wanted. What everyone spent their entire lives searching for. Everyone, that is, except for me. Love was such an alien topic. A concept I could never grasp. A desire I never felt. Not that I ever felt much.
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We put out a new issue every Wednesday so please watch us and check your messages for our news article every Wednesday to read 10 great pieces of prose!
Zest
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I go to seek a Great Perhaps.
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Readers and writers of prose, we need YOU.
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and we are vagabonds
we travel without seatbelts on
we live this close to death
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Readers and writers of prose, we need YOU.
Check out Ten of Ten, a weekly showcase of 10 different pieces of prose from 10 different genres.
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