the ugly writers

DEAL

Drake's heart shattered into pieces. He even saw Jade receiving money from Lance. It's heartbreaking to know that he realized Jade's importance to him too late, but what broke him the most was he was played with by Jade.
the ugly writers

Rooftop

The here and the now are more important than yesterday or tomorrow. Live the moment. Live for today. But there's still that voice he doesn't want to hear anymore. Too much trouble. Just too much trouble. Just leave it at that. Just leave it like that.
the ugly writers

A Bowl of Tom Yum Soup

Inam can't take Anna's anger any longer. Inam tells her to think with a cool head. Inam tells Anna that Nivi bewitched Shirley with her fake smiles and sweet words. Anna agrees. Nivi is indeed her mother's daughter. Nivi is manipulative, shrewd, exploitive, cunning and deceptive just like her mother.
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Elissar’s Tears

Elissar’s thoughts were racing faster than her heart because she wanted to say her mind only she was hearing Beroe’s. Beroe herself was frozen in fear thinking she had let down her goddess. “Beroe give Elissar her seeds. Elissar give Beroe your crescent” ordered the goddess. Immediately, Beroe took Elissar’s Venus’ comb and combed out five ruby seeds that were as big as a plum, six blue sapphire seeds as big as an olive, and four amber seeds as big as a pea. Then Elissar broke off her ivory and crystal crescent from its golden cage in her tiara and gave it to Beroe as a tear dropped unto it making a dent.
the ugly writers

Tunnel Vision

Tunnel Vision is a short story written by Kelli J. Gavin and shared with The Ugly Writers. Tunnel Vision   All Roads Lead to Rome. I remember hearing that statement when I was a child. I didn’t have a clue…
the ugly writers

The Night Boseman Died

Each of us has known someone with cancer, and many of us have lost someone because of cancer.  Cancer isn't political. Cancer doesn't normally attack people based on skin color. Cancer doesn't discriminate. But apparently tonight, some people are slightly skewed in their thinking and believe that this man's death doesn't count.
the ugly writers

Mavericks’ Challenge

The sound is deafening, like a 747 screaming toward take-off. Slashes of cold water spit high into the air, needle-pricks on my face, salt washing into my eyes. I struggle to keep my focus on the board tip in the boiling, hissing blue-green crest.

Before His Time

He was stood by the corridor on the train and it was full. Hundreds of equally bored commuters going to their boring jobs; all dressed in long coats, in suits, long dresses and all looked glum. But it was fine for Egg Head had his music on and it was maxed out. A woman wearing a gray trouser suit pushed past him. She glared at him and never even excused herself. Egg Head wouldn’t have heard her but he’d have seen her lips move.