Dmitri claimed he had played in the Dave Clark Five back in the 1960s. He claimed it over and over. Truth was, his only fame rested on the fact that billions in the world did not know Dmitri Yusipov even existed, let alone his wingless aspirations hopping from one drum dream to the next. No one but a couple of his only friends were aware of his search for fame, fortune, and that old favorite of dreamers––immortality.
“I was the relief drummer,” Dmitri said. This in response to Jill the barmaid’s “You hardly touched your drink, D.”
Category: Short story / Cumulative Earnings: $15.00 Rank: 7 / Month's Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 60
nThe night was dark and rainy, the kind of night when no one wants to be out. Roosevelt Franklin Simonson was walking toward his car in the parking lot behind the store. This was going to be a big sale that would give him the extra money he needed for a special dinner with his wife and daughters. Praise the Lord!
They were his pride and joy. They were faithful to their Lord and Savior and gave him a reason to thank his heavenly Father daily. Roosevelt loved his wife, Sharon, and was blessed to have her as his partner for life. They had been married since graduating college twelve years ago. It had been rocky at the start, but she asked him to go to church with her for Christmas one year. He realized that he needed to turn his life over to the Lord. Now he followed his Lord’s will seeking to give Him thanks for every blessing.
Category: Short story / Cumulative Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 74 / Month's Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 74
by Paul Beckman
Gammerman knew that he shouldn’t send the email, he even paused and said to himself, “Gammerman, don’t send that email.” And then he hit the send key. That in a nutshell is the story of Gammerman’s life—he always knew what his choices were and when push came to shove he took the most harmful to himself.
And, like many others in his life, this choice couldn’t be undone even if he wanted to. There was no way to recall the email, not that he considered doing so for even a nanosecond.
Category: Short story / Cumulative Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 18 / Month's Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 9
The Crumpled Paper
I’m no genius, no child protégée, just me. I can’t write like a girl, handwriting all neat, but I’m not like the boys either, always wanting to act like a bitch in heat. This story is just about me, written in the twistedforms of psychology, learned and manipulated by the tall guy in front of me. But you see all this rhyme here in front of me? Truth is, I wrote this at two, skipping school, and every word I penned down, I got it off the face of a well known underground rapper who was made a public fool. (Pierrots, seemingly is a better befitting word, but that doesn’t rhyme, now does it?)
Category: Short story / Cumulative Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 229 / Month's Earnings: $0.00 Rank: 229
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