I was nothing like his mother. Didn't look like her, act like her yet he told his friends we had to split up because I was like her. WTF. He told me that he no longer fancied me so why say I was like his mom.
Photoshoot for bikinis in the middle of winter in a snow covered backdrop was usually my worst dread. Today, however, I was glad because word reached us that our studio blew up after a group of teenage boys decided to experiment with chemicals using a translat... [Read more...]
For a change I was ok about Carl's clothes this month. Blue was perfectly acceptable compared to the horror of April - canary yellow. He's a bit weird, my fiance. It was a sort of take on color psychology but relating to months of the year, something he read in ... [Read more...]
When I lost my mother in the store, I was only three years old. I can't remember what happened but I still wake up in a sweat most nights, an innate sense of abandonment, as though I have been on a mission to the moon, stepped outside the spaceship for a walk... [Read more...]
I don't understand why it's so hard to lose weight. I know what I'm doing wrong but can't stop. Multi bags of potato chips, carrot cake with creamy frosting, sedentary lifestyle. I used to be such an active man, always playing some kind of sports, walking at ... [Read more...]
I hated the fairy picture. Instead of feeling at peace, secure, happy I always had sleepless nights. Mom sleeping on the floor near my bed, comforting me when I cried out. No matter where she put the picture, in another room, even in the trash, it somehow onc... [Read more...]
We spent the last 36 hours in bed ticking off everything from the list, blindfold food tasting, leather fetish, school girl, french maid, alien, headmaster, Orient Express, aristocrat and gardener, furries, blind date, highwayman, pirate, rock star gr... [Read more...]
My email has been compromised, nevermind, nothing I write or receive is of any importance. The girl on the bench was full of self pity, having one of those 'the world is against me' moments we all get when we have too much free time and not enough to do... [Read more...]
This dream was better than waking. I was slim. Looked beautiful in the ivory vintage silk dress Mama had worn herself. Stepping out of a two horse carriage festooned in thornless white roses. Flash of cameras. Walking down the aisle holding Papa's a... [Read more...]
Publishing digital art is like going to a rooftop and tearing open a feather pillow. You can't control where the feathers go. You can't gather them all again. Ditto for digital art.
We can't control who copies our art, nor how they use it. But we can at least ask those who find the feathers to think of us. To that end Six Minute Story empowers writers to license their work under six Creative Commons licenses or to the Public Domain.
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