Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
When He Slips Back In
Every once in a while, she is wonderfully sure that a portal opens between the life she finds herself trapped in, and his, the next. She hears a song on the radio play more frequently than other days, and she smells his cologne in the strangest of places, at the oddest of times, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and unknown voices. She abruptly awakens in the middle of the night, sure that she felt his hand clutch hers, as he delicately whispers her name.
By Author Alice VL5 years ago in Fiction
Bully
One SEVENTH GRADE SUCKS! Had I known seventh grade was going to be so different from sixth grade, I would have stayed home. I stood at the end of the sandy driveway, barefoot, waiting for the bus. My desperate attempt at iridescent fishscale trousers were a dull hand-me-down from one of my cousins that lived in Aspen. Too much time had passed, and the sparkle the scales once held were dull now. “They are nearly years ahead the fashion trend in Aspen,” my mother had said as I grumpily put the trousers on. They were tight, and fit well, but they didn’t shine with a kaleidoscope of colors like they were supposed to. Just one more thing to get made fun of about at school. <Ugh! Seventh grade…>
By Nathan Charles5 years ago in Fiction
From the Stars
There are times when I want to rip the locket from around my neck, and let it fall never to be seen again. The silver, heart-shaped pendant is a constant reminder of what I lost, and yet it is a comfort. When the pain becomes too much I grip the charm close to my heart, squeeze my eyes shut, and will the world to go back to the way it was. A year ago I was celebrating my college graduation, and subsequent engagement to the love of my life. I was happy-go-lucky, but that changed all too quickly.
By Maysen Matthews 5 years ago in Fiction
Suburban Zombies
Seven years ago, which now seems like a lifetime, everything was different. The birds would sing their songs in the morning as I got around for school. I would go downstairs, kiss my mother on her cheek and grab some food for the bus. We would say goodbye for the day with a “See ya later alligator!” and “Not for a while Crocodile!” Our goofy exchange resulted in a giggle from both of us. My mom worked in a big science facility, what exactly she did was confidential. But, I knew it was important. She would leave shortly after I did in the mornings, but most nights she wouldn't be home until after my elder sister and I were in bed. Our Dad worked for the local police department on the night shift, so he would be leaving shortly after dinner and sleeping while we were at school. Everybody’s schedules were so scattered, but we still had the weekends for family time. Family time usually amounted to us helping mom in the garden, or learning “survival skills '' in the woods with dad. Amanda is two years older than me, so she was just about to graduate high school and she planned to move to California in a few months for college. She really made me want to go there too, but I think that was just so we wouldn't be so far away.
By Autumn Lawson5 years ago in Fiction
The Arrivals
They found the first one in the backseat of a yellow taxicab in New York city. The driver was interviewed by Ellen and Oprah – 15 minutes of fame as they replayed the viral video again and again. He leant back in their deep couches, his silk shirt open at the neck, black hair sprouting over the top like a 70’s porn star. He threw his arms around wildly as he performed for their cameras – feigned surprise at the baby appearing where a moment before there had been none. The audience laughed, lapping it up. Critics accused him of trickery – was it staged? A CGI effect, perhaps, or an accomplice off-screen? His interviews added nothing to the story – the simple fact was, he didn’t know. Nobody did.
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
Sally
It was stuffy in his special place, the dusty wooden support beams constricting his movements. It didn’t used to be such a tight fit, but times had changed. He had gotten bigger, although he didn’t feel like he had. In his mind, he was still only ten, but he knew that wasn’t the case. His body showed the effects of age. His hair was longer, as were his fingernails, which tapped out a rhythmic pattern on the thin plaster in front of him.
By Jude Bolick5 years ago in Fiction
Rush
Chapter Three Crash, Bang, Boom A car door slamming outside my window jolts me out of a deep sleep. I get up to peek outside, to see Parker stumbling around to the back of the house. "Subtle" I groan. I make my way downstairs to let him in. When I open the door, Parker falls face first through the doorway. Rolling my eyes, assuming he is drunk, I reach down for him. "Come on Parker, let's get you to bed." He moans a garbled reply, but when I grab his hand it is slick. Then the stench of wet pennies hits my nostrils.
By Dominique Stedge5 years ago in Fiction
When the Sun don't shine
In a deceptively, devilish, distorted dystopian reality, little David had adapted quickly to this world of upside down truths. This was his reality, and navigating through it took skill and wits, not to mention luck of serious caliber to survive a days’ worth of adventure here.
By Jody Randall5 years ago in Fiction
The Broken Locket
53...54...55...56...57...58...59...60...61...Always exactly 61 steps to the top of the landing. Never more...never less. It makes it easy and seems to go so much quicker when I count each step. I also can’t make a mistake that way, and in this world making a mistake can be foolish and even dangerous. And so I count each step. And now I stand before my office door and turn the knob and open the door to my waiting room. I don’t need a key because the door is never locked. No doors are ever locked anymore. And why would they be. We all have everything we need to be happy and complete. At least that’s what they tell us on the Big Screen every morning. No need to steal someone else’s stuff. So no need for a key. No one is going to break in. And if someone broke the rules and were suddenly overcome with the need to break into my office uninvited and were discovered to have taken something, they would be deemed unnatural and unfit to live in our oh so perfect society and would quickly pay the ultimate price for their transgressions and be taken to the official Other World, the world referred to by them as simply the Darkness. And we live in the Light and should consider ourselves blessed to live in the Society of the Light. And so as I open the door to my office and walk in as I do everyday, I remind myself once again how important it is to live in the Light.
By Steve Mandell5 years ago in Fiction
Seen
“Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen” ― Akwaeke Emezi, Freshwater In her mind she sat at the water's edge, her toes dug deep in the coarse moist sand, admiring a sun-pillar on the horizon - light stretching to the heavens like a beacon of hope. The view was reminiscent of the Star Wars poster her mother had hung in their home office that had previously been her sister's bedroom. She clung to the imagined rhythm of the lapping waves, seagulls cawing, taste of salt in her mouth, and children giggling somewhere in the distance, the breeze coming off the gulf coast carrying the scent only found close to the ocean - a sweet, pungent smell that she knew was caused by bacteria, but she chose not to focus on that detail and instead revel in the calm it’s imagining brought. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and was accosted instead with the smells of those in, near, and around the small room she now occupied. She was disappointed not to experience the floaters one gets from accidentally looking at the sun when she opened her eyes and fixated on the woman sitting in front of her.
By Michell Witt5 years ago in Fiction
