@forestbound/instagram.com Olives & Grace
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

@theartofmadeline
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

roma★
Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day

if i look back, i am lost
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

No title available

Product Placement
ojovivo
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.

seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from Croatia
seen from United States
seen from Poland

seen from United States

seen from Egypt
seen from Israel

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
@writingformysouls
@forestbound/instagram.com Olives & Grace
You turn around the corner and spot him at the end of the deserted road. Just a couple of meters away. You look him up and down, inspecting every inch of him and taking it all in. The soft brown hair, the wide blue eyes, the way the setting sun caught his strong jawline and high cheekbones at such an angle that he almost looked angelic, and you know in that very moment, that he has to die. He is not an angle; he is the devil. He has tortured you for so long, without even remembering your name but now, now you’ll make sure he knows your name, that he remembers you, that your face is the last that he sees. You’re going to show him what it’s like to be isolated, to scream and for no one to help you. That’s when you run. The scream that’s coming out of your mouth is in-human, and as you collide with him you pull out your knife. And he laughs at you, he laughs right at your face because he thinks that you can do him no harm, but you know better. A grin spreads across your face as your manic brain concocts a plan. A plan that has been festering and waiting to be released ever since the first time he hit you. And you strike. Again and again, in brief swish movements your knife flies through the air cutting it and him into pieces. His laugh turns to howls of agony as your blade rips him apart, almost as though it is an extension of your inner peril. Now it’s your turn to laugh. You cackle and care up his face, even though by now he is long dead. “Good job” says the voice “he can’t hurt you anymore.”
Sunday - 3 - December In Real Life By Cory Doctorow and Jen Wang
Seven Minutes
I only have seven minutes to get out. It’s been timed down to the last second. I have to rush if I want to get out of here alive. They won’t control me anymore. Long ago I had a life and I’m going to get it back. The grim woman will return at any moment, with her posse of old crows. Dashing towards the window, I attempt to tug it open but it’s locked, of course, but I’ve prepared for this. I’ve been planning my escape forever, ever since they took me from my dearest home in the dead of night, all those years ago, and now is my only chance. Prying two bobby pins from my pinafores’ pocket, I got to work on picking the lock. The lock pings open and the sound echoes off the stone walls. Dropping down, I scramble over the roof, slipping over aged tiles with my arms stretched out like wings to keep my balance. Pulling myself down, I shuffle down the conveniently placed ivy, thanking God for my luck, and grab onto the rickety drain pipe for support. I push off of the wall at the end of the ivy, dropping down the last metre. I scamper across the open area of damp grass, trying not to slip before I reach my goal, the wall. Expecting search lights to flash on at any moment, I heave myself up, brick by brick. Catching my breath at the top, I swivel my head back to catch one last glimpse at the place that has been my prison for so long. With the convent melting into the fog behind me, a wolfish grin spreads across my face as I descend down to the other side. Freedom embraces me and my first laugh in seven years escapes alongside me.
6 - November - 2017 The Bunker Diary By Kevin Brooks
Flash Fiction: Don’t Look Back
He sprinted away, his breathing heavy, his heart racing like a prized stallion and his legs almost collapsing under him as he caught his breath. Suddenly a twig snapped behind him. His head snapped back, painfully as he twisted around, looking for it. A flash of its gleaming scales suddenly appeared in his peripheral vison, and his eyes widened in horror. He didn’t know what it wanted or even what it was, but his primal instinct was telling him run. Run again. And don’t look back.
22 - October - 2017 The Couple Next Door By Shari Lapena
22 - October - 2017 Stolen By Lucy Christopher
6 - September - 2017 Remix By Non Pratt
3 - September - 2017 Countless By Karen Gregory
30 - August - 2017 The Lost & The Found By Cat Clarke
14 - August - 2017 Holding Up The Universe By Jennifer Niven
27 - July - 2017 Frozen Charlotte By Alex Bell
25 - July - 2017 You Against Me By Jenny Downham
22 - July - 2017 Suicide Notes From Beautiful Girls By Lynn Weingarten
Social Isolation
She glanced across the table towards him, and caught his eye. Their cheeks filled with blood and they glanced down, resuming their silent conversation conducted with the help of their electronic devices. Their fingers swiftly glided across their keyboards as they rapidly texted one another, exchanging words as pointless as what they had eaten the day before and as personal as their plans for the future. They peeked at each other again and it was as though there was no-one else in the room, as if they were completely isolated from society. But that didn’t last long as someone dropped their lunch tray all over the cafeteria floor, and as quickly as it had been made, the spell was broken.