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Character profile: by L

Character profile:
• 20 years old
• Female
• Studying nursing in university
• Part-time job as waitress in a local village pub
• Lives with two best friends in apartment
• Is half-Spanish (Father was Spanish)
• Father died when she was only three
• Left mother when she was 16, as they never got on.
• Has a 16 year old brother and 14 year old sister who she tries to visit each time she gets holidays from university.
• Appears to be quite confident, by the way she walks and talks.
• Always wears a gold pendant

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100 word short story by L

“Grandma, you can do this!” I exclaimed, squeezing her hand so tight it was probably restricting the blood flow.

“I can’t,” she sighed. “I can’t get to this state again,” she softly spoke, holding onto her beautiful, golden lock of hair she used to have, before the cancer got to a state where she needed treatment.

“You can! You’re a strong woman! You can grow back the hair again! You can be strong again! You can beat the cancer! You haven’t finished all your treatments yet!”

“I…can’t…” sighed the frail woman. Grandma closed her eyes for the last time…

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New mode of transport: Wings invented by L

These are a pair of fabric wings which will make you fly above the clouds. The wings are simply put on like a backpack, as they have a pair of easy-to-put-on straps attached to them. There is a satnav attached to the left wing, so the wings can be programmed to take the flyer anywhere they want to go in the world. In case of an emergency, there is a red button on the right wing, which can be pressed to land immediately.

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The Curl, a Small Book & What They Made out of Life. by Dara דָרָה



I feel fine, which should be somewhat worrying, a smaller part of me takes note of, considering my relapse brought me back to hospital…What is that sound I can hear?

Beep. Beep. Deep, steady breaths are heard. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! They quicken, and then start to slow. BEEP! BEEEEEEE-They stop.

Oh, I think that’s me…

Everything is swamped into the blackness, and I remember.

A little girl stands beside a woman who’s laying down on a bed of plush cushions and a quilt covered with patches- each a memory, she says. Stitched with patchwork memories, the girl dimly recalls. The image is hazy, no clear lines, with time. Everything looks soft. Especially with the pastel colours that dominate the bedroom they’re in.

She’s laughing [loudly], happy, trying to be quieter for the lady- but she’s listening, too (and the lady’s smiling).

Almost too quickly, the image shifts, the woman seems to fade, losing colour; skin, lips, even eyes. But not her hair, strangely. They’re in a [ hospital ] room [now], filled with tubes and tape, should-be-startling machines (that somehow add to the overall picture), an interlocking network, (like) a body- the inside of a body [ strange clear blood passes through plastic veins ]- into her [Mommy].

She sits quieter now, still happy, but more subdued; quietly happy. Both sets of eyes are shining, one faded, worn, paler [ losing sight], the other bright, darker, slightly gentle-er than you would expect of a child [ too young, too young]. But both are still full.

Her mind’s eye blinks, and the image [memory] has changed.

Older [ still too young- ].
The mechanic system is absent. A wheelchair sits next to an open window, empty. The image-memory gets suspiciously blurry now, as hands come into view, palms up. In them is a small delicate book- when opened, is contradictory to it’s outward appearance [ bright, coloured, vivid ], and in it, a lock [a curl, a ringlet] of bright, blonde-yellow hair.

Two damp marks appear on the paper. The image (frozen) fades.


“We’re losing her! We’re losing he- Give me 22cc’s STAT! Hurry! You, stabil-”
Everything white’s out. But not before one last thought:

Momma, I’m coming home…

(Name) was found holding a single lock of hair.
She hadn’t let go; later, they found the book on her hospital room’s only night stand.
In the other hand, her will, in elegant writing:
“My most treasured possession, for my beloved god child
– the book is for you, please take a look.”

What was inside? Well, generations of family (not always of blood) had placed but the most treasured of things, all from following the words -enameled- on the binding(and your answer):

You decide; look inside your heart and let precious things flood onto the pages.

What would you enter?

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A Hundred (and three) Word Story By ‘Peace’

I cradle the single gold curl within my hand, the only trace of my once envied hair. Closing my eyes, I see my mum, brushing it, whispering how beautiful I looked – like a princess. Then she was gone. A year later I lost my hair and I turned into a bald-looking frog; I never heard those words “You are beautiful” anymore. Until one day, I met a boy like me – his head shiny and glinting. Once again he made me feel beautiful. Tilting my hand, I let the blonde ribbon fall softly to the water…drifting away…The cancer won’t beat me.


Having a conversation using just questions, by Gee

Okay so my friend and I wanted to find out who often asks the most questions. So without planning it, we started talking using just questions. Interesting 🙂

Here’s the conversation:


•You don’t think so?

-How am I supposed to know?

•Because you have common sense?

-We’re just going to be talking in questions now aren’t we?

•Aha is that what you think?

-How do you know I have common sense?

•Do you have common sense?

-I honestly don’t know, how about you tell me?

•How would that help the situation?

 -What would help this situation..?

•How am I supposed to know?
•If i tell you, what difference would it make?

•It is just me or is this question thing really hard to do?

-Well if you knew how it would help, wouldn’t it help?  

-Haha yes I agree, but practice makes perfect does it not?

•Are you purposely trying to confuse me?


•Why would you do that?
•And what if I don’t agree?

-Do what? And what if you don’t? 

-I thought there was a reason for everything?

  •Why would there be?

 -It was your theory, you tell me?

•When did this become my theory?

-You said it was when we were talking about God remember?

•You’re asking me to remember? Haven’t you learnt of my constantly decreasing memory span?: Maybe I’m just trying to help?

•Why would you do that?

-Cause you’re my friend..?

•Why do you think so?

-Well I do enjoy your company, I’m not sure if you enjoy mine haha but I don’t know. Are we?

•How can you even ask that? I did say you were my best friend, didn’t I? 🙂 

-Yeah you did 🙂 Why are we still doing this?

•I don’t know actually; Is it me or has this lost all its purpose? 

•Why did we even start this anyway?

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That goes to show that it is possible to have a conversation using questions only; it could be a very weird one, but still a conversation. Thanks for reading!