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A/N: This story started out as a philosophical thought (aka the boyfriend’s line). Do you agree with me? Or am I merely crazy? Anyway, enjoy!


Starting in college was one of the easiest decisions Julia had ever made. In fact it hardly even counted as a decision. She had always known that she would go as soon as she finished high school, and the transition to the local college was an easy one. She didn’t even have to move out. She simply drove to another address as she left the house in the morning.

However, finishing her bachelor degree forced her to consider her future. She had never bothered to think much about it. She loved her present life. Her family, her friends and her boyfriend of three years were all right where she needed them. Still, she couldn’t live at home for forever, and she did want to continue her education.

In the end she travelled across two states in order to start at Boston University School of Medicine in order to study forensic anthropology. Her boyfriend moved with her, which made the decision so much easier, and it only seemed natural at this point that they should move in together.

Continue reading “Home”

Yet Another Special Day

A/N: I actually wrote something! Even though it wasn’t particularly long… but write it I did!



“Today’s the day,” Matilda announced.

“Today’s the day for what?” Jerry asked.

“I’m not sure,” Matilda said. “But surely it must be the day for something?”

Jerry merely yawned. By now he was getting pretty used to Matildas eccentricities. “It could be the day for doing nothing?” he suggested. A nap did sound nice.

Matilda sent him a withering look. “No. Today’s something special. It has to be.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday wasn’t.”

Continue reading “Yet Another Special Day”

Those Kind of People

A/N: Okay, so this piece was written in quite the hurry! It’s about two elderly women having a conversation. I can’t say much more without giving away the story. 


“Would you look at them!” Bertha said, disapproval clear in her voice.

Lena followed her friend’s gaze. Not far from them two people were talking together, but that wasn’t what had caught Bertha’s attention.

If it wasn’t enough the two men were black, then they didn’t even had the decency to dress like real Danes. Instead they were dressed in what could only be traditional clothing from whatever third world country they had come from.

“Disgraceful,” Lena agreed with her friend. “We’ve been so kind to them as to let them come here, and how do they repay us? They won’t even try to be a part of our culture! They should be ashamed of themselves!”

“I bet their wives are at home right now, cooking dinner for them, wearing one of those things, where you can’t even see their faces. Don’t they realise how uncomfortable those make us?”

Continue reading “Those Kind of People”

Third Time’s the Charm

A/N: Another 150 Words or less challenge! This one was supposed to fit the picture – do you guys think I nailed it or not?


Their first date had been a complete catastrophe. It had involved an escaped pet monkey, a black eye and way too much vomit. But he’d been charming and he’d laughed over his own misfortune, so she’d agreed on a second date.

Which she was currently very pleased about.

The little Italian restaurant was as taken directly out of Lady and the Tramp. That was minus the alley, the garbage and the singing Italian. A charmingly crooked table was standing in the middle of a pavilion, completely covered in leaves glistering with dew. Lanterns provided a feeling of fairy dust and adventures, and Susan inhaled deeply, imagining the air tasted like magic.

Everything was perfect.

At least until the fire in the lantern somehow got in contact with the leaves, and romance was suddenly forgotten in their pursuit to put the fire out.

Well, she supposed third time’s the charm.

A Locket

A/N: Okay, so this was a challenge. I was given the first sentence to work from, and had a total of 150 words after that. It was fun, and I can definitely recommend taking a little writer’s challenge every once in a while!


The lock was still there, clinging to the fence, its shackle rusted from exposure.

“Just like us,” she thought, remembering with a cynical smile how they’d been. Her so trusting, and him so charming. She’d never had a chance.

“Here,” he’d said as he’d locked it. “This is our promise. We’ll be together for forever.”

They weren’t, but the locket was still hanging there, mocking her. How stupid she’d used to be.

Suddenly she felt two arms around her. Turning around she smiled at her husband, kissing his cheek softly.

“Darling,” he murmured, and she grinned at him. She could still cringe over how naïve she’d once been, but she’d been fourteen. Sixteen when it had ended. Thank God, she’d found someone better eventually. Someone worth a locket.

“Ready?” she asked, holding up the pliers.

He grinned at her. ”For doing something stupid and potentially illegal? Always.”

Oh, yes, this time she’d definitely found a man worth a locket.

A Doctor’s Confession

Her name was Stephanie Johnson, and she was one of the most renowned brain surgeons on the East Coast. She was calm, collected, professional, and during her six years as a doctor she’d only ever had two patients die on her table. A new record. Sure, she worked some long hours, but she loved her job. She loved the feeling it gave her to feel like she could defeat sickness itself. It made her feel powerful. Invincible.

Sometimes she felt lonely. Not often, but occasionally. It wasn’t like she’d never had a boyfriend, but there just never seemed to be time to work on her relationships, and eventually the men started getting sick of never being prioritized. She had a lover though, who came over a couple of times a week and left before dawn, and she had her girlfriends. Doctors from the same hospital. Mature women, who liked meeting over a lunch or a cocktail.

Continue reading “A Doctor’s Confession”

Transformation

She was eaten by zombies.

If she hadn’t been in too much pain to look back, she probably would have wished she’d stayed at home rather than going with her friends to this desolate island. She’d been a member of her schools Paranormal Activity Club, and they’d decided to spent their vacation looking for anything paranormal. Like werewolves and vampires.

Now being slightly scarred by a werewolf would be kind of cool, and being bit by a vampire would be hot as hell. But this?

Death by zombies. Lame. And painful.

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An Artist

An Artist

He was an artist. He knew his teacher – former teacher that was – didn’t think so. In fact he had spent years telling him everything he did wrong. But he knew he was an artist despite what that old goat might say.

And this was his first piece. Finished and perfectly imperfect. His teacher would have hated it. He loved that.

His teacher would have said that it wasn’t art. That it was a toy. And he would be partly right. It was a toy. But why should that mean it couldn’t also be art?

It was a fort. A single piece of wood carved out so it appeared to be several boxes, sticking out from each other. It was splattered with paint – every happy colour he’d been able to think of and with childish paintings. It was in three levels and if you climbed to the top level you’d find the secret treasure: A cave, where you could hide with all your books and secrets, pretending it was a little world of it own.

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By the Right Hand

A/N: This week’s update is about tension! Desire plus danger. Please enjoy!

Dave’s stomach grumbled uncomfortably. He’d gotten away from his parents despite their many warnings, and now he was on the verge of tears. They’d told him it was a dangerous country, nothing like home, but he’d felt safe and had wandered off. And now he was more hungry than he’d ever been before.

It didn’t help there was food everywhere around him; tempting him. He’d found his way back to the market place and everywhere he looked there were piles of fruit, chunks of meet and lines of fish hung up. Perhaps if he took some, he could convince his parents to come back later and pay for it. He was sure they’d understand. He hadn’t had anything since that morning, and now the sun was quickly closing in on the horizon. Surely thievery could be excused in a situation like this.

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Real Life or Pure Imagination?

A/N: Okay, this text is an argument between two authors, who are also friends. One who’s writing romance and one who’s writing fantasy. Please comment if you agree with one of them! Enjoy!

Why don’t you just try to write something a bit more real?” Emily asked her one day.

“What do you mean?” Anna looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“Well, none of the stuffs that’s happening in your stories could ever actually, you know – happen. So, what’s the point, then? I mean; magic? Dragons? How do you expect your readers to really invest themselves in the story if it could never happen to them?”

“Well, that’s kind of the point.”

Continue reading “Real Life or Pure Imagination?”