Kendi Stoneberg
Stories (11/0)
Crazy
It started with the walls closing in. They shuddered, cracked. Collapsed like the flimsy sides of cardboard boxes. Then came the heat. It engulfed the broken room with a frightening fury. And worse, the smoke. It was smothering. It wanted her to die there, gagging on its stinking fumes. The scars on her arms and legs turned to blisters. Every inch of her was in agony. Every inch of her begged for the fire to consume her quickly.
By Kendi Stoneberg7 months ago in Fiction
No One Cares
Does it bother you? I’ll tell you right now, it doesn’t really bother me much. I don’t think twice very often. I scroll past articles titled WARNING: ICE CAPS MELTING and RESOURCES LIMITED: TIME TO CHANGE without pause because what am I supposed to do about it, really? and then stop to appreciate a two-minute video of a social media influencer caught doing something ridiculous in public to get that perfect product-sponsored post, all the while I’m filling the bathtub to its brim for the third time that week (and it’s only Wednesday, don’t @ me).
By Kendi Stoneberg4 years ago in The Swamp
Looking For Something
There’s a girl in every crowd looking for something she fears will never be found. Still, she looks. She looks because every romantic movie and every love song, every couple celebrating their 50th anniversary tells her that she’ll find it someday. And in her heart she kindles a bit of hope that she’s capable of finding it, when her head tells her that she’s not—that she’s damaged. In every crowd there is a girl with a ghost for a smile, still looking for something she fears she’ll never find.
By Kendi Stoneberg7 years ago in Humans
Standing Right in Front of You
Bing bong. John stepped through the door into the cool interior of the Verizon store, clutching his dripping phone in one hand and casually smoothing his dark, soaking hair with the other. His shoes squished and squelched as he made his way to the heart of the sale floor.
By Kendi Stoneberg7 years ago in Humans
Comfort Zone
"Google, define comfort zone." "Comfort zone. The place in which one functions with ease and familiarity." Well then, by formal definition, my comfort zone measures at an approximate fifty-mile radius, ninety percent of which consists of farmland and sagebrush. It is endless stretches of fields, country backroads, and Grandpa cussin’ the referees between grumbles of “you call that holding, ref?” and “someone get this man some binoculars!”
By Kendi Stoneberg7 years ago in Wander