MrVane

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But There Was No Fire by MrVane, literature

Literature

But There Was No Fire

The kitchen was heavy with heat. The induction stove was silent as it simmered vegetable soup in a small pot - it would have been the only sound if the cover didn’t seal it up. A chair pulled from under the table carried the weight of a seated woman. A book, barely held in her hands, trembled slightly. A droplet of sweat rolled down her brow. Her hands did nothing to remove it. An assortment of crayons lay scattered on the opposite end of the table - under the downward gaze of a young girl. An open letter lay in the center of the table at an odd angle, its content, a piece of printed paper, carelessly tossed on top. The pot simme

throw a show by MrVane, literature

Literature

throw a show

what you don't know, it'll kill you in your sleep I lay for hours telling you how to breathe the air is all wrong the nails are upturned the pot sings a shrill song and the coffee burns I beg you – throw a show, I'll sit still – I'll be at peace what you don't have, is what I need our chair sits unused it's frail, it'll never last we both smile – unamused gnawing our haughty pasts

Night and Day by MrVane, literature

Literature

Night and Day

She sits at her desk. It is built of red oak, thickly lacquered. The surface bears no evidence of the years of pencil strokes that have been pressed onto it. She writes. Various books, old and new, lie around her. Their pages are filled with sticky notes, marking places of usefulness. They cover the desk. A stack of pages, covered in writing, sits next to her busy hand. By her other hand, a stack of blanks. The page in front of her fills with writing. She has ambitions, goals. She has worked towards them for years. She is sure she will follow them till her final days. The room is quiet. All that can be heard is her rapid strike

Quivering by MrVane, literature

a home by MrVane, literature

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But There Was No Fire by MrVane, literature

Literature

But There Was No Fire

throw a show by MrVane, literature

Literature

throw a show

a home by MrVane, literature

Quivering by MrVane, literature

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The Linceian Fraction by flatsofirony, literature

One Last Song by flatsofirony, literature

Literature

One Last Song

One Last Song A pencil sized fragment of glass rode the wind with a wild flutter and shattered against February's forehead. She nervously pushed her fingertips up over her eyebrows to run them along the impact site, and then withdrew her hand and was relieved to see that there were no signs of blood. January gave her a confirming nod and then turned back to the tiny bell, suspended midair on a thin wrought iron rod, which she was testing. After she flicked the delicate instrument a few times, to no effect, she pulled up a handful of wet grass and tossed it into the air over the bell and they came crashing down like a ruined chandelier of fai

you dream of birds by BEE-FACTORY, literature

Literature

you dream of birds

Part One In Which You Dream of Birds Four nights before your birthday, you dream of birds. There are a thousand of them perched in a great tree, their white wings drooped elegantly down their sides and their feathers trailing behind them like wedding veils. They sing a thousand beautiful songs each night, and you know this because they are singing them to you now. But one of them has no beak, and you know that if you catch it, it will grant you a wish. When you wake up the sky is like frosted pearls, and you know that you must have a bird. Part Two In Which There Are Ants in the Walls You have no idea why you didn’t think of purchas

decay by BEE-FACTORY, literature

Literature

decay

Naomi dances on her way home from school. She’s not bad. Her rain boots scrape the sidewalk as she taps out her own, strange hybrid of a quickstep mambo. Puddles get kicked up in her wake, a mixture of dead, soggy worms and decaying leaves sent flying. She twirls her umbrella like a yellow baton, throwing it up in the air and catching it after a spirited spin or two. Sometimes music accompanies her steps—“One and a two! Ratatat-tat!”—sometimes not. Her voice is tiny but excitable, like a child let loose into a room lined with bubble wrap. It isn’t always dancing. Sometimes she rehearses little plays, drama

TEN: Chapter Two by Icysapphire, literature

Literature

TEN: Chapter Two

The ocean was blue and bright, the sky that crowned it only more so. With the clouds as pure white as they were sparse, sailing had been—and promised to continue being—pleasant. The reverend said it was a sign from God: He wanted their humble convent to succeed in their mission. He said that the path was clear and that by spreading His word, they’d open the road to Heaven for so many souls yet-to-be-saved. This was selflessness. But was that really true? The small ship surged steadily forward, a lone speck adrift a wide expanse of water. The deck was mostly empty, save for a few sailors busying themselves—and a you

Chambers Day by DeadGP, literature

Literature

Chambers Day

Riley Lisi was not ready for Chambers Day. The fifteen year old sat on a barstool, numbly caressing the sides of an empty glass. Her brother, Ted, was seated next to her. A cigarette smoldered lazily between his fingers, its smoke gently wafting across the counter. His other hand rested on a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Riley sighed. “Why do we have Chambers Day, Ted?” she said, her eyes focused on her glass. She could see her reflection, her proportions morphed radically in its faded surface. Her eyes were too big, shiny, on the verge of tears she wouldn’t let go of. Ted took a moment, placed the cigarette in his mo