Welcome to StoryTimed

Have a read of last contributions to the open stories listed below. If you are interested in making a contribution for one of the stories simply click the "contribute" link under the last contribution below.

Through A Glass Darkly: Urbania

Mirrors. I am the reflection of many moons

If I seek, I shall find, yet I find...emptiness


Without a prayer for forgiveness, I left him

N'ermore to look for his gaze, to long for his touch

Mystery in song, meaning in laughter

Hollowed-out memories of a lifetime past

Now descended to madness and raging for justice

In a world gone wrong

Oh! Hope, where is thy sting?

I turned on the news today

The killings go on

I am no more, until it is no longer.


Jane Doe

As we left the house and got into the squad car Smithy was fuming and muttering under his breath. He slammed his door, shutting his seatbelt in it with an earwrenching clang and subsequent stream of curses.

I sighed. "Should I bother to ask...?"

"Eveldale Drive? Eveldale Drive?! That's in bloody Wordham!" Smithy was bent over the door, grunting as he tried to pull out the seat belt. I reached over him- God, he was obese- and pulled on the handle. He fell forwards a little and turned around to glare at me. "If I wanted to spend any time in Wordham I'd have become a dealer myself! Probably get more than these pisspot wages..."




contribute  | read all  | comments (1)

Ο Ποκο

Or perhaps it wasn't "bad" memory - just terribly inefficient. After all, he remembered plenty of things that were completely useless, like license plate numbers and street addresses and dates, all unconnected to any sort of value. 

The corner of his room harbored more than a few discarded papers. One appeared to be a drawing of a cat. Joe tried not to dwell on this, his attention then spinning to other things. Why am I here? Why - 

"Oh!" He yelled. "It's her birthday. I need to... need to... flowers or something." He glanced up at the calendar. "Shoot. Yesterday was. I..." He grabbed his cell phone.


"Look, I'm really sorry. I forgot about your birthday. I'm horrible, I know, I know."

There was an awkward laugh on the end of the line. "Sorry," She said, "Who is this?"


"Look, 'Joe', I don't know who you are or how you got my number... my birthday isn't for a couple of weeks. Have a nice day. Bye!"


It Was Time

Suddenly, Cal knew what he had to do.

They would build a raft. Prompting his family to their feet, he handed each of them an axe (he had purchased four axes from an axe salesman at the airport for just such an occasion). Vivian, Montague, and Sambastriana stared at them in awe, yet somehow knew what Cal intended them to use them for. All at once, they sprung forth from their hut dwelling and rushed out into the jungle. Axes in hand, they began swatting away at saplings like crazed lumberjacks. Cal instructed Vivian to gather fiberous reeds, which Monty and Sammy instinctively began to tear into strips to tie the wood together. With precision and expertise, they constructed sturdy raft in record time.

It was a fine raft.

Strapping his axe to his back, he hoisted the vessel over his head and headed toward the river. He laid the raft on the surface of the icey, rushing water, holding it in place with his right foot as his wife and two children boarded. He boarded last.

contribute  | read all  | comments (4)
‹ First  < 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 > 

Share Storytimed

The more participants we have the more fun we have! Tell others.