Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

You Guys Are Out Of Here!
I ran like crazy to escape the wall of flames. My fellow firefighters had long ago become blackened corpses. There was a cave in the canyon wall ahead, I squeezed out a superhuman burst of adrenaline and barely made it, diving into the entrance and landing on my belly before the air filled with white hot flames and orange sparks. As I lay face down on the slimy floor, I thought of the billionaires with their private bunkers deep in earth’s bowels. What did they do down there?
By Gary Cox5 years ago in Fiction
Heart-shaped Hopelessness
Heart-shaped Hopelessness Nothing but ash. Can’t breathe. Can’t see. What was once a beautiful, thriving city, is now a barren wasteland. It’s been two years, 121 days, and this morning. How we’ve survived, I’ll never know. Lying on this cold concrete deep inside the inner-city water drainage system is the only place to call home. Hearing the soft breathing and whimsical, dream-filled whispers of Aaron and Joan lulls me into deep thought about what the day holds. So much to do and not much time to get everything accomplished. I am by no means “mom material”, but since the warheads hit, my youth had been stripped away; now my primary focus were my younger brother and sister’s future. The sun is just now breaking dawn and I must make a food and supply run while the ash-filled smog is at its thinnest.
By Katie Foster5 years ago in Fiction
The Botton of the Ocean
Floating. I am floating. The water soaks my clothes and I am lighter than air, bobbing around in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. I hear my name being called and submerge myself, feeling the cold envelop my body. My throat burns and my lungs scream for air but I stay as long as I can. The voice is gone when I resurface, and I float once more.
By Heather F5 years ago in Fiction
SS Inglefield
He couldn’t remember the first time he’d ever seen his mother’s necklace. He couldn’t remember if it was in the before or the after, but why did that matter? It was his favourite thing about his mother, however unfair that was. Her necklace was simple, a heart-shaped locket, with intricate swirling patterns traced finely into the metal. He could stare at it for hours, holding it gently between grubby fingers, afraid of his own filth contaminating the jewellery. His mother would always come back to get it, running long fingers through his ebony hair, sighing at his fascination. She didn’t quite understand.
By Heather F5 years ago in Fiction
Glaedreon
A mother's tears are shed from the heart. When the extension of the astral plane bore nothing but emptiness, cold and dark, it brought a somber weight on her heart. The translucent tears that fell from her cheeks, sparkled and glittered like a thousand diamonds. Each drop fell to her feet, sprinkling along the plane like a million budding flowers. The darkness is really so lonely, so desolate. But to the mother's surprise, a cry above her own reverberated through the darkness. From her tears, life was born.
By Danica Bodley5 years ago in Fiction
Genetics
Light eminating from the phone screen at 3 am was melting my eyes, but I continued to pick and choose the ingredients of my date.
By K L5 years ago in Fiction
Hearts and Hands
The war ended 10 years prior, corporations are long gone. We survive by the Buddhist deeds: chop wood, carry water. When you take care of basics, everything else falls into place, or so they say.
By Cathy Coley5 years ago in Fiction
One Spring Day in May
The blade of the shovel cut through the dirt, releasing the scent of loamy earth into the air. She always loved the springtime, when the trees grew lush with verdant leaves, and the flowers bloomed in shades of red and pink. The air was sweeter, warmer, and provided relief from the cold harshness of winter. But this spring was different. The weight of what she had to do hung in the air like cigarette smoke and made her chest hurt just as badly.
By Michael Wirth5 years ago in Fiction
Endings
Hope often reveals itself in small statements, spoken hesitantly in dark hours, through constricted throats. Deep in The Alps a loop was formed. As man imitated God, the smallest components of life struck together and everything changed. The world became barren, dusty, dry. Not quickly. All of the warning signs willfully ignored. Perhaps that unkind, it’s possible that it was unwilful in some cases.
By Hannah Gibney5 years ago in Fiction
The Repository
The white cassette tape crunched, echoing across the silent landscape, she stopped. Ears perked, motionless. The nights were never so dark as they were now and she waited hoping the noise didn’t alert anyone - or anything - out in the darkness. The moon’s position told her half an hour had passed before she felt safe to move again. She bent down and picked up the cracked casing of the cassette and smiled. This was definitely from a bygone day.
By Mary Brown5 years ago in Fiction
Lost Locket Of Eden
Lost Locket of Eden Unwillingly I said goodbye to him as he rushed out the door again, my intuition reminding me yet again that I was only being used as a stepping stone, a means to an end. I know he will never love me the way I love him, but during this nightmare amongst us those who are remaining cling to any bit of love, friendship or vice that keeps us just that little bit sane while feeding us hope at the same time. Even the strongest are hanging on by a thread. There are not many of us left here in my home town, having connection is difficult as it feels like we are all in a race against time with each other. I've stopped keeping track of what level I am on now. It was a couple months ago when i unlocked my first set of abilities, I keep that information to myself till I completely understand how I am supposed to be using them and why. Another factor is if your doing well and having successful missions and wins it makes you an easy target around here.
By Alyssa Sullivan5 years ago in Fiction
I Dream of Gurney.
March 22nd??? Nothing. All I hear is nothing. Am I forgetting what it sounds like to think because thinking is all there is? The silence is loud and the darkness bright. I still open the curtains each morning expecting a hot and sunny hello. Instead, I am met with a cold “to the abyss you shall go.” Darkness seems to be usurping change as being the only constant. Without morning there is only mourning.
By SolSong5 years ago in Fiction