Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Gifting. Content Warning.
Ryan stood five foot eleven, or “six feet on a good day,” as he’d say. Broad shoulders braided with a cornucopia of muscle and smooth, preened, milky skin—free from tufts of coarse body hair thanks to thrice-weekly waxing appointments at Carefree, Hair Free! in the heart of Northalsted, AKA Boystown.
By Edward Swafford8 days ago in Fiction
Every Sunday at 4:17
Every Sunday at 4:17 p.m., Eleanor brushes her husband’s hair. The nurses know not to interrupt. They used to ask why that time. They don’t anymore. Hospitals teach people the mathematics of grief. After a while, no one questions the arithmetic.
By Edward Smith8 days ago in Fiction
The Sack. Content Warning.
Author’s Note: This story was originally written for a creative prompt and has since been revisited and revised. Though fictional, it draws inspiration from real historical atrocities and the destruction of thriving Black communities in America. The language within the journal entries reflects the prejudices of the era in which the fictional narrator lived. While certain terms have been softened, they are included to illuminate the cruelty and contradictions of that time, not to excuse or endorse them.
By Briya Shockley8 days ago in Fiction
The Moment Before You Finally Move
The first sign wasn’t a sound. It was the way the light behaved. Mara noticed it while she stood in her kitchen with the faucet running too long, her hands held under the stream like she could rinse off a thought. The morning should have been clean and ordinary—gray Dallas daylight, thin and patient, the neighbor’s sprinkler ticking somewhere outside—but the sunlight coming through the blinds didn’t land right. It didn’t stripe the counter in neat bars. It hovered, softened, like it was deciding whether to commit.
By Lawrence Lease8 days ago in Fiction
Equines and Airships, 2/2
We start with our girl, A.Z. She works for a secretive, quasi-governmental organization that reverse-engineers extraterrestrial technology. Her real name is Azalea Jetso. She rose up the ranks to become a chief, now operating under supervision of the mysterious boss, known as Mr. R.
By Gabriel Shames8 days ago in Fiction
MARVEL/DC COMICS PRESENTS #13
Catwoman Fisk Tower New York City She opened the glass door and paused as it closed behind her. The room was long and somewhat narrow with off-white painted walls and rows of black chairs along the left side wall. A booth with a plump stern looking woman wearing glasses who didn't acknowledge her presence after walking in. The few individuals who sat against the wall all took notice as she stood in the doorway. While they were dressed in business attire, she stood there wearing reflective sunglasses, a black leather jacket with a red blouse underneath with matching black leather pants that showed her curvy figure. She took a momentary glance at them before walking to the booth.
By Derrick Billups 8 days ago in Fiction
The Unthinkable
I don't do dark skinned sistah's. They just don't appeal to me. I like them light-skinned and thin with long, black, hair. Well, at least, that's what I thought, until she came around. I was drinking a latte when she entered the coffee shop. She walked past me towards the counter. Her skin was the color of mahogany, a color brown that I wasn't accustomed to noticing, that is, until now. She was wearing a magenta business jacket and skirt with an off-white blouse. Her shoes were black with straps that crossed each other and wrapped around her ankles. I tried to ignore her, and tried to place my attention elsewhere, but she just stood out. I found myself staring at her, eyeing her from head to toe. Every time I fought to look away, I found myself eyeing her again. I looked down at my cell phone, scrolled through articles on my favorite news app, and took slow sips from my latte, trying hard to make sure that my eyes stayed focused on one of the articles. I even thought about Sheila, the lovely sistah' in the complex next to mine. She was tall and thin like a model, had a head full of long, lovely, black hair that flowed down past her shoulders. Her skin was high yellow, and her eyes were the most beautiful green that I've ever seen. I was sitting thinking about Sheila and how I would approach her but, suddenly, I looked up and saw her. She was standing in front of me sipping from her cup. My eyes locked in, and she looked back at me, smiled and approached me. "How are you?" she asked. "Name's Seyrann Oku." "Hello," I replied. "Didn't get the name," she continued. "Maxson," I replied. Maxson Welch." "Oh, like the Jam?" she asked, laughing. "I bet you go well with peanut butter." Her laugh was infectious, all I could do was stare. If I opened my mouth and replied to that peanut butter comment, nothing but foolishness would come out, so I just kept quiet. "Oh, the strong silent type," she said, still smiling. "I like that." "I...I...I wanted to put her down, wanted to tell her that I wasn't into dark-skinned sistah's, wanted to tell her to get lost, that she didn't have a chance in hell, but I had a problem. I just couldn't get my mouth to move. "Look, why don't you come over, and I'll make you a nice supper." she said, still smiling. "I bet you haven't had a home cooked meal in ages." She was right. I haven't had any home cooking since I left home fourteen years ago. Long time to go without home cooking. All I've done is fancy restaurants and delivery, especially when I was trying to bag women like Sheila. "Here's my address," she said, still smiling. "It's easy to find. It's across the street from the Neon Palace." "The Neon Palace?" I said, trying hard to fight my cornballism, "Isn't that the Chinese fusion restaurant that everyone raves about?" "Don't even think about it," she said. staring directly at me. "A home cooked meal is what you need. See you at eight." I wanted to tell her not to waste her time, but it just wouldn't come out. All I could do was sit there and stare. When I got home, I seriously thought about standing her up, leaving her straight hanging, but I didn't, I showered up, got dressed, and I went right to that woman's house. I found my way there just like she said I would. I got to her apartment and knocked on the door. I pushed the door gently, and it opened. As I walked in, I was greeted with a wonderful aroma. I was expecting her to still be preparing food, but I saw everything there on the table. "Hello?" I said, looking around. "Your door was open." I was about to say something else, and then she entered the room. She was dressed in this wonderful outfit. The top half looked like a nightie, and the bottom half looked like a scarf just tied around her waist. "You're right on time," she said, smiling. "Come. Sit. Let us eat." Seyrann prepared my plate first and then prepared her own. We ate. It was quiet until she asked me to tell her about myself. I told her my story, told her where I came from, where my people were from, and how I got here. I talked about my job and some of my ambitions, and then, I asked her to tell me some things about herself. "I work in the city," she said. "I'm into advertising." "A lot of accounts?" I asked. "Several," she replied. "Any I might be familiar with?" I continued. "And why would you want to know that? she asked. "So we can make conversation and not end up boring one another." "Talking about what we both do for a living is boring." she said, staring at me. "So, what do we talk about? I asked. "Rituals," she replied. "Rituals?" I said, staring back at her. "Yes," she replied. "Between man and woman." I was about to say something, but she cut me off. "Say this mantra with me," she said. I was against it, and I was ready to leave until she held both my hands and spoke to me. "It's alright," she said. "You'll find peace with me." We began to read the mantra, and I suddenly found myself kissing her hands. As we both continued reading, I found myself pulling her close to me. Our words were in sync as we held each other, and we embraced for what seemed like hours. I found myself walking her to her bedroom within that embrace. As we completed the mantra, I bowed before her and gently kissed her feet. I found myself on my knees before her complementing her beauty. "Stand up," she said. "You were not meant to kneel." "You put a spell on me," I said, not knowing what else to say. "This is your truth," she said, "If it were not so, neither of us would be here." The night with Seyrann was like no other, never had I felt this way with any woman that I had pursued. It was as if we had known each other for seven eternities. With each touch, with each embrace, we'd go to levels where our minds would touch, where we knew each other's thoughts and dreams. Our spirits embraced and we tasted each other in ways that could never ever be explained in the physical realm. I tried hard to fight what I was feeling. It just didn't feel right to let go with a person who was not outwardly suitable to that fake world that had I created around me. I didn't want to go where my own truth was taking me. But wherever I went within the embrace, and within our coupling, she was there with me. Seyrann and I would go down this road many times. We'd read that mantra and go places that the world said was just a figment of our imagination. I know realize that my truth is with this woman. For years I denied women like her for the simple fact that I knew deep down that somewhere, down the road, I would find her and be complete.
By John Scipio8 days ago in Fiction
MARVEL/DC COMICS PRESENTS #12
Nova/Green Lantern A Cave in an Asteroid Rhomann Dey, Centurion of the Nova Corps, looked at the bald red faced Green Lantern with quiet indifference. The Green Lantern got the drop on him. He was unaware of their ability to phase through solid matter with their Oan Power Rings. He mentally filed the matter for his report when he returned to Xandar. If he gets there.
By Derrick Billups 8 days ago in Fiction
