🎣 Two friends return to the same dock, morning after morning. 🌅
As a golden hue spread across the sky and glinted off the lake, a mist hovered over its surface. It lingered there as if the water were releasing a frosted breath. Along the shore, pine trees reached toward the clouds, hemming in the thinning haze. Two men emerged from the treeline before a rickety dock, worn by generations of use. The old pier stretched out like a patient man’s crooked finger.
The taller figure grinned as he pointed at the fishing pole resting on the dock’s railing with his own. “Is it normal for you to leave your rod out like that?”
A soft chuckle slipped out from the smaller fellow as he turned and poked his friend’s chest. “Marcus, considering I left it here to meet you about twenty minutes ago, it wasn’t an issue.”
“Touche,” Marcus said, “though why’d you come pick me up?”
“You caught me between casts.” Daniel grabbed his resting fishing pole and tapped the nearby open tackle box with his foot. The hooks glinted in the morning light. He placed the bucket beside the equipment. “I also needed to resupply my bait.”
“Why would you need to replace it?” Marcus peered at Daniel’s empty chair as he licked his lips. “By the looks of your spot, you haven’t had much luck.”
“Nope, been catching and releasing today.” Daniel pulled a fresh worm from the pail and prepared for his next cast.
“Too bad.” Marcus drew in a silent breath as he stared at his baited hook. “Have you ever noticed how worms always look offended, despite being faceless?”
Daniel took his seat and readied his line. When he finished, he rested the pole on his lap as he turned toward his friend. “That’s not a topic conducive to deep thought.”
“Why?”
Daniel gestured at his baited hook and leaned closer to Marcus. “I’m pretty sure you’d be upset if a stranger stuck a piece of sharpened metal through you.”
With a wry laugh, Marcus nodded as he laid his rod on a shoulder. He shook his head as he finished preparing his pole. He dropped into the spare seat and cast with a smooth flick of the wrist. The lure landed with a quiet plop, and ripples spread outward. He turned toward Daniel as he reclaimed the slack in his line. “Have you just been catching runts all morning?”
“Does it matter if I haven’t claimed a single fish?”
“What’s the point of fishing if you don’t?”
Daniel shook his head as the lines sat in the lake. Before long, silence settled between their chairs as they waited for the fish to test their hooks. In between silent moments, somewhere across the water, a lone bird called once before disappearing into the thinning morning air.
Marcus reeled in his line, frowned at the empty hook, and cast again.
Daniel watched his bobber as his fingers rested on the line. “Do you remember the first time you joined me on this dock?”
A soft chuckle escaped Marcus’s lips as he reclaimed the slack…
Continue reading the story below:
I fear it wasn’t loud enough in my actions.
That I’ve been shouting but not loud enough to be heard.
That all of these projects
All of these gifts
All of these hobbies
All of the myths.
Distractions.
A castle of lies I have carefully crafted,
Woven from the tapestry of aether and dust.
A death cry
A futile attempt.
To stop the lie from unravelling
That I am someone.
I am important.
My memory will linger on the lips of lovers
And in the arms and stories of friends.
That I am not alone.
And that while I feel alone
My memory still lingers on the lips of lovers
That stories are being spoken of times where I
An ant, made a big difference to someone dear.
I am a drop in a pond
But I add to it I don’t subtract.
I create and I build and I fix.
Because the cracks in myself are too big to repair
And a fixer with nothing to fix cannot exist.
When there is no art left, why remain an artist?
I am running low on inspiration to create.
I grow too tired to be of any help to fix.
I have torn down every single thing I have built.
A shadow sits on a mountain top to the west.
It has grown closer and closer year by year.
The shadow is an end.
To what, I don’t know.
Nor will I pretend
That I don’t wish to rot,
Peacefully, among
Flowers that will weep my absence,
But in spite of it grow.
Still I stand here in the sun’s glow
Trying to remember
The pieces of me lost in the rubble.
Can someone please
Show me.
Am I even worthy
To create or destroy?
I am an ant.
Ants shouldn’t fall out of line.
And I’ve been walking zig-zags this whole time.
And perhaps it would be best to be forgotten.
Tw: pet loss
So tired and full of grief today. I’ve been on the job hunt for a while and still no luck, at this point struggling financially and relying on loved ones to get through it. Then last night we had to euthanize a beloved pet who had run away from home and returned with an infection so severe that his survival was simply hopeless. It was profoundly difficult, even just to see our cat so sick. I’m feeling quite nihilistic right now just trying to push through it. Even a bit hopeless. But it’s no use. I’ll put in more applications- I just have to get a job going, and I can start picking up these pieces along the way.
Make him [the reader] think the evil, make him think it for himself, and you are released from weak specifications.
- Henry James
International Women’s Day: Female Literary Characters We Can’t Stop Thinking About http://dlvr.it/TRTb08
Just trying to stay healthy and focused clear headed these days. Long walks, good music, black coffee, apples and peanut butter with some sea salt. Reading. As much as I can fit in my brain at a time. I’m more than halfway through pride and prejudice. Please recommend books that improves your own writing if you have them. Finding that right flow is tough. My brain just feels sluggish at times.
Yall, if I wanted to self-publish, where do I go? What are the steps? I’ve done some light googling, but I’m wondering if any authors have some personal experience.
(I’m permanently banned from Amazon KDP btw—open to any alternatives)
So like… does anyone else suspect their hormonal cycles are affecting their writing process? Sorry is that a weird thing to ask? I mean like getting moody right before menstruation, feeling fierce during ovulation etc- I’m femme NB with AFAB anatomy I confess and I definitely feel like my writing and whole vibe kind of shifts during different parts of my cycle. Sorry if this is a weird question again lol. It’s just been an odd thing I’ve noticed
Friday / 13 Mar/2026
Time-6.00am
What movies or TV series have you watched more than 5 times?
From TV Glimpses to Words: My Real World of BooksI am a housewife, and because of that my daily routine is always full. Cooking, cleaning, serving food, filling drinking water when the municipal tap arrives, taking care of family—there is always something to do. Because of this busy life, I hardly get…
3 Short Stories to Write a Fiction Essay That Captures Reader Attention
Learn more here https://tr.ee/Z6mhfA
so if you’d rather read Volition Chronicles of there, please check it out!
https://www.wattpad.com/user/AEfletcher
