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Aura Wilming presents

Stories are an essential part of our lives. They have the power to create, or recreate the world we live in moment by moment. Everyday objects play key roles in the stories we tell, and those tales appear to be endless. Join our talented authors as they write their own unique story revolving around a single everyday object.

If you are new to our community please take a moment to familiarize yourself with our submission guidelines.

If you’re already a writer for Hinged, welcome back to the most unique writing challenge and community of writers on Medium! …

Good morning and happy weekend from the editors of Hinged!

We have received the submitted stories for prompt #264 and it promises to be a fantastic edition. We are excited to publish it next week. We are even more excited to have a week to really delve into the stories and help our talented authors to make the stories the best they can be. We will be editing for flow and style as well as grammar, spelling and punctuation, but we won’t make any changes without the author’s knowledge and consent. …

A Feature Presentation of

Did you find yourself in an absurd situation? Did you witness an improbable sequence of events? Did you see some sweet karma being dealt out? Do you have a story that starts with the words I swear, I am not making this up?
I know you do. We all do. Most of us have plenty of real-life stories collecting dust in the back in our mind, until something prompts a recall.

Those memories may have a home in (Un)Hinged. We want to know what happened to you, from the huge and life changing to the small and mundane. … presents

The editor’s picks for this first ever edition of Hinged are:

Curtain Call by Varey Tales

Casting My Spell by Stuart James

Curtain Call by Terrye Turpin

Other wonderful submissions for this prompt:

Where Fame Shines by Rana

The Elusive Dame Sydney by Angelique Redwood

Acting the Maggot by John Tinney

Everyone Thought He Was Dead by Louise Foerster

Stranded Center Stage by Paul S Markle

Clover by Tre L. Loadholt

The Fifth Ballerina by Stefani Vader

One of the things Sallie liked about her work; it was within walking distance from her apartment. That saved her a lot on gas and parking fees. When her car had broken down a year ago, she hadn’t even bothered to get it fixed. Living in the city, where you could have almost everything delivered and take public transportation for everything else, was so much easier without the headache of owning a car.

She traced her fingers along the wall she was passing. It was made of some sort of natural stone, almost completely covered in moss. It looked old…

Photo by Hussan Amir on Unsplash

It’s said, ‘When one door closes… another one opens…’

In 2016, Sandy Knight published a story to her profile in which she freely wondered if she could call herself a real writer. In that story was the fateful line: Give a real writer a writing prompt like “door knob” and they’ll probably slam you with five or six hundred words containing enough creative genius to shame you into shutting your mouth and your computer for a month, at least.”

Half a dozen people took on the challenge and wrote amazing stories about a doorknob.

After reading through those stories and the ensuing discussion, I sent Sandy a private note…

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Yameia whispered.

“No,” Sallie admitted. “But I don’t have any other ideas.”

She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. For a good two minutes nothing happened. Just as she wanted to ring the bell a second time, clicking noises sounded from the other side. The door silently swung open.

“Hi,” Sallie said. She wasn’t able to say more than that. Nerves had dried up her throat.

The man in the doorway almost filled up the entire frame. An expression of surprise and recognition flashed on his face before he broke…

You haven’t known true terror until you’ve faced the screeching, wailing horde. There was neither rhyme nor reason to the horde. There was nothing that could predict when they’d amass. They were bad enough to deal with when they were alone. The increased numbers only emboldened them.

I could see the horror in the faces of the brave men and women posted at the gate. These were the faces of people realizing God had forsaken them.

My people weren’t rookies. Each of them had their run-ins with the creatures in the past. They all bore the scars; mostly mentally, an…

Aura Wilming

Writer of fiction, blogs and erotica. Frequency in that order. Popularity in reverse.

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