Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 3 - Pt 1 (WHILE PARTNERS WON AND PARTNERS LOST...) i They ran through wide hallways hung with tapestries and paintings; cliched suits of armour seemed to lurk around every corner—every nook and cranny—with armaments, breastplates, and coats of arms hanging between the murals, paintings and tapestries. It made it easier with the hallway lit up by the new electric fixtures; they helped reveal the dirt and grime of the last century though, where cobwebs gathered in dark corners in parliamentary numbers. The hallways were panelled in Norwegian pine, for no other reason she supposed, than her grandsire admiring the colour.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Museum Musings
“You really don’t mind that our first date is at your workplace?” I ask hesitantly as my date unlocks and opens the doors. His name is Henry. Average in height, he looks presentable in a well-worn suit and is the curator of the local museum, which I suggested be our first date before I knew of his job here. He responds as he indicates that I walk in before him.
By Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap2-pt3 (IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS...) iii Somewhere a clock struck the hour, echoing through the emptiness. Artie looked at the open French doors where the moonlight slipped through the etched glass, spilling across a Turkey carpet partially covering the parquet floor, and washing up against a book lined wall. There was a large piano-forte tucked into one corner, the dark, ebony coloured legs reflecting the soft moonlight. A large harp and small chair stood nearby, along with a music stand and violin, as well as a cello and two chairs. Paintings lined the West wall, and he thought, I wouldn’t have put them above an open fireplace.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
One More Chance
And there goes another one. Down that long aisle. This time, it’s as red as her painted lips. I watch her from my place, next to her soon-to-be husband. She’s beautiful in her off-the-shoulder gown, her veil covering just her eyes. But that blue doesn’t stay hidden. It never did.
By Megan Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Light at the End of the Road
Trees blur into the dark background encroaching on the edge of the road. The sun sets below the horizon, bathing the sky in a fiery haze. Dark blue sky peaks through a break in the clouds. He looks up and sees the beginning twinkle of stars. He steps on the gas. The white car is a blur on the empty highway, a mirage to any onlooker.
By Megan Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Mistress of the House of Books. V+ Fiction Award Winner.
On the east side of the John Adams Building, facing Third Street, was an entrance. It used to feature three pairs of bronze doors. Sculpted upon these doors were the names and standing forms of heroes and gods. The same six figures for the pairs on either side, with a different half-dozen for the middle pair. Twelve unique figures in all. Hope, perhaps, in an astrological nod?
By Matthew Daniels5 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 1: Footprints
The footprints meandered, but not in a way that suggested staggering frat boys or beachcombers looking for shells. No, these were deeper, carefully chosen, and mixed with half-prints where their creator tested the ground, thought better of it and retracted the step. The path was winding and uneven, but from deliberation, not carefree or drunken wandering.
By Amelia Grace Newell5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
CHAP 2 PT1 (IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS...) i Jenny Ashcroft pulled her dressing gown tight, sitting in the half darkness of her boudoir, staring at her reflection in the bevelled mirror of her dressing table. She was sipping a large glass of whiskey--neat--wondering where she'd gone wrong with her life. How could she have let herself fall for a man she knew nothing about? Because she was a stunning beauty, men had always gravitated toward her, and as such she’d always had an easy time of things. With long, dark hair cascading down the middle of her back in rings and curls, and grey eyes that captivated a man’s soul, she had high cheekbones that played with the single dimple on her left cheek whenever she smiled. Her complexion was a milky white, her lips full bodied and dark in the soft light of a waxing moon coming in through the open window. The light came in at a slant, the slats between the panes of glass casting long shadows that stretched across the parquet floor as if they were the bars of a cage. She sought a cigarette from somewhere in the folds of her dressing gown. Straightening the cigarette once she found it, she began striking the lighter. It took more than a moment for it to ignite, and when it did, the flash of the lighter forced her to shut her eyes. But she did it, finally exhaling a large cloud of smoke at the moonlight coming in through the window as she let slip a silent tear.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Together Tantalizing
They shared a table dressed with a pristine white cloth which draped gracefully over the edges, flowing ripples of silky material hovering just above the occupant’s knees. Everything was perfectly crafted in the establishment. The restaurant was dimly lit and thrumming with the gentle murmur of conversation from the surrounding tables, soft clinking sounds of silverware which nestled easily in the hand against the fragile ivory plates which nurtured the delicacies on offer. With food so well-crafted and perfectly balanced in flavor, salt and pepper didn’t need to adorn the tables tonight.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Fiction
