Maybe it’s not my favorite per se, because that would have to be some pretty Frost poem that makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Harlem sticks with me because it devastates.

It reminds me to follow my dream, and when I find myself starting to make excuses, or justifying my strays, these words pop into my head:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Vassal stands atop a cliff, looking out at the wasteland. A world shaped by tools and machinery -- sand pushed around in a box. He laments that this is his planet; the red earth has formed him more than ancestors or genealogies. Vassal is an anomaly, he feels as much human as the jackhammer he leans against. He is an animal echo against a cold steel infinity.

Thin tears dredge through the dust coating his skin.

---

To answer your question... fanfic is the best! I wish there was more on Prose... I also prefer the stories that deal with auxiliary characters, as the main ones often get played out IMO.

i.e. a Star Wars fanfic that deals with a Twi'Lek dancer rather than another drawn out Han Solo story.