Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Heart-Shaped Box
Of all the things I could have remembered, there's just this one memory of her that plays on repeat in my dreams. I was looking up at her, and her pale blonde hair, streaked with mud, flowed out behind her as the wind blew. I remember her weathered boots with frayed laces, and the dusty, grey trench coat with splatters of blood on the sleeves; sleeves that were too long for her because it was our father's trench coat, our father's blood. Although she smiled at me, I could tell from the look in her eyes, that this would be the last time I saw her. Her friend and our charismatic leader, Myoko, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave me a sad smile. "Treven, it's time. It's now or never." I jumped up and ran into Trevin's arms. "Don't go," I cried. "Who's going to play battle boats with me?" Myoko gave us a moment alone. "Teach Kai how to play. I bet she would love to play with you, and before you know it, we'll be together again." I squeezed her tighter. "I don't want to. She's annoying," I whined. "Hey, don't say that. Give her a chance. You, and Celeste are all she's got."
By Sia Morris5 years ago in Fiction
Everyone Knows
I usually head out in the morning, just as the darkness outside begins to gray and before the day starts to creep into full-blown fever. Even then, one can feel the previous day’s heat weltering amid the homogeneous shanties, a neutral air that dies in the nostrils and sticks to sweat. There was a time when Graet would come with me, but then she found the lumps just under her left armpit, two of them - hard and conspicuous like beans nestled strangely beneath wet, sallow sheets. Everyone knows that can happen. So, today, I was going it alone.
By Shuvuuia Deserti5 years ago in Fiction
Dry Bones
Brown bones broke through dry earth. Ligaments clung to their gnarled fingers, still attached to old bone. Next broken arms and pointed shoulders slid through. Crushed skulls soon followed, cool autumn air whistling through hollowed eyes. Silence hung in the air, all living things knowing something was different about tonight.
By Sara Elizabeth5 years ago in Fiction
Section Six
In this section, we will discuss the basics of the reproductive protocol and its requirements to create a fulfilling life for individuals and successful parishes throughout future generations. The goal for each individual parish is to successfully produce offspring that increasingly satisfy the needs of the community. Individuals who lack the necessary requirements will not be permitted to reproduce in order to cull factors that may lead to dissatisfactory levels of productive workers.
By Sindy Siyarath5 years ago in Fiction
Rain
(RAIN) “You can’t predict lust. It’s a magical dust that floats in the air. It has no logic, no predetermined path. Maybe it settles on you. Maybe you unexpectedly walk through it … it doesn’t matter how or when really … it makes you think that whoever you’re with or see in front of you is your love … rather they are good or evil.”
By Jennie Lyne Hiott5 years ago in Fiction
12B
12B Frankly, I don’t know why I came back. I don’t know why I risked my neck crossing the openness of the westside, moving about the colossal shadows of a vacant civilization; a civilization long abandoned and thrust into the pure and absolute chaos of The Collapse.
By Andrew Falk5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
The Locket By Samantha Harken Everyone knows the real world ended in the year 2000. The crash of the electronic world came in the form of an EMP burst which is hotly debated even now: was it the Y2K bug or an attack from an otherworldly species trying to curb the chaos humanity was embroiled in? Small towns that were agricultural in nature lasted the longest after the fall of technology, and why not? They had the means to keep themselves going, the skills to protect their land and family, and the heart to keep going as the darkness closed in on them.
By Samantha Harken5 years ago in Fiction
The drowning of books
On the Tuesday when the world finally caught up with him, as the first rays of the sun cracked open the pale green eggshell of the eastern sky, Gerineldo flexed his shiny, old man’s fingers, stretched his sinewy old brown legs, prayed that his wife was not already awake beyond the clean lace curtains, and farted loudly and gratefully into the chilly stillness of the dawn.
By Bob Sutton5 years ago in Fiction
When the lights go out
Dear Diary, 08/24/2103 Sometimes, but not very often, I miss how things used to be. Before everything went to hell and got messed up. I miss being able to drive everywhere I wanted to and fly everywhere a car couldn’t reach. I miss listening to electric lofi music with my Airpods. I remember how stoked I was when earbud headphones went wireless. That was one of my biggest issues back then. Getting my headphone cords snagged throughout the day. I miss my phone too. Being able to learn anything at the speed of light. Calling or texting anyone anywhere across the world. Nowadays, I can’t even begin to imagine where some of my friends and families are. I know where they were when everything went down, but now I have no clue. I miss my parents a lot and I have tried to write letters to them, but I never seem to get any back. Maybe the Postal Service hasn’t figured out how to fully revert yet. Not very many things have been able to revert back to the old ways quite yet. Actually, I think reverting is a relatively new thing that is still kind of catching on. Like slang and Silly Bands. Or One Direction. God, I even miss One Direction. I just want music back... Anyways, not many people have been able to figure out a way to use old, pre-modern techniques to replace the huge loss of modern-day technology.
By Angelina All Over5 years ago in Fiction
Story of the Sovereign
Maggie Goodsong reached a hand off the side of her bed as the sound of Blue Whispers echoed through her room. The sound originated from two blue birds singing on her window sill, chests puffed out as they performed a well-practiced routine which, upon finishing, received praise from Maggie who had just finished putting her outfit together. As Maggie approached the window sill, both birds took flight, hovering a meter from the window expectantly.
By Brett Hart5 years ago in Fiction
The Cost of Hope
Day -01: Preparation Grubosh cubes weren’t the best tasting food and I suppose that’s the idea, but at least we had plenty of them. The pale white cubes with tiny Gs on all 6 sides were easy to store, which is why I obtained so many. I stuffed the last of the water purification trodes into the second duffle bag as I heard a noise in the front room. I grabbed the bags and quickly threw them into the closet.
By Steven Allen5 years ago in Fiction
