It rose. She held his hand and it felt like grass. It was grass between her fingers; but for all she cared at that moment, it was his brown hair.
She had always promised to watch it with him. To let the gold clothe their bodies slowly as they s... [Read more...]
The new pope looked down on the moving heads, waving arms, heard the cacophany of sound, brass bands, singing in a multitude of tongues, watched the fluttering flags in the wind, saw the dark sky illuminated by millions of cell phone flashes as his... [Read more...]
The tape has been cut. The mayor has let crowds of tiny white men swim into the formerly closed building. The building was opened before overseers of its construction had planned, even approved of. Business seemed to be booming, all these men trampling ... [Read more...]
The alien craft exploded invisible to the human eye. The inhabitants had exited over an hour ago, running amazingly fast past the animals lying lazily on the sun scorched land who barely gave them a glance, such was their speed.
100 feet away I watched the smugglers struggle to get over the jagged stones, collapse onto the wet sand, expel salt water from their lungs and pray to whatever gods they believed they had reached shore alive.
Deep beneath our feet lies a maze of tunnels, crypts, secret passages, large and small pipes, cables, each layer added over the centuries dependent on current needs. For most of us we would only consider water pipes from the bathroom, utility wires, sewag... [Read more...]
We had to move quick. Aside from the smell of decay, and the swarms of flesh-eating bugs that harangued us at every turn, the swamp was cold, and Dr. Fjord's injury was not getting any better. I didn't like dragging her through the murky waters like thi... [Read more...]
Running from the larva, Nick wondered if he could stop for a second, catch his breath. He carried on, the survival persona taking over, making him look ahead at the hovering helicopter, knowing his life depended on reaching it...........
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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