Short Story

The Prophets of 2026
The Prophets of 2026 The world has always needed voices that look beyond the horizon. In different centuries and in different lands, Baba Vanga and Nostradamus became those voices. Both saw through the veil of time, each in their own language, each believing that the future was not fixed but waiting to be shaped by human choice. Their names are separated by five hundred years, yet their warnings for 2026 seem to echo one another as if history itself were repeating its lesson.
By Marie381Uk 8 days ago in Fiction
Where the Ocean Keeps Secrets
The brochure showed smiling couples, crystal-blue water, and dolphins jumping beside the boat. Nothing about fear. Nothing about disappearances. Nothing about how silence feels when the ocean decides to keep someone.
By Salman Writes8 days ago in Fiction
The Breaking of a Union
Hephaestus had never been especially lucky with love. So, watching Aphrodite and Ares squirm in the net he’d made to catch them cheating didn’t particularly surprise or anger him. He crossed his arms and stared at them as they blindly groped for a way out. Finally, Aphrodite’s eyes lifted and met his. She scowled at him and lifted her chin defiantly. The irate spark in her gorgeous gray eyes made his heart leap despite himself.
By Morey Guntz8 days ago in Fiction
Boons and Curses
Before him lay his doom. Exasperated, Imperator Valatious collapsed into his chair. Beyond the hide walls of his tent, the evening air hung disquietingly still. He ran his weathered hands through a grease-stained mane of brown hair, uncut since the campaign began.
By Matthew J. Fromm8 days ago in Fiction
Evelyn Felix Gets a Prescription Filled. Content Warning.
It isn’t a complicated task. Evelyn just hasn’t done it before, which is… a good thing, probably. She is twenty-seven, an adult (apparently), so with her grocery list and prescription in hand, she enters the store.
By Polite Adjacent8 days ago in Fiction
The Whispers of Tomorrow: A 10-Year-Old's Dream in Iran. AI-Generated.
A Sky of Secrets My name is Sara, and I am ten years old. My world is full of colors, even if sometimes they feel hidden behind the grey concrete of the tall buildings. I live in a city where the mountains stand tall and proud, capped with snow that glitters like diamonds under the Persian sun. My grandmother tells me the mountains are the guardians of our history. But unlike the mountains, we humans often have to whisper our dreams. My biggest dream is to be a painter, to paint all the colors I see inside me—the turquoise of the ancient tiles, the deep red of the pomegranates, and the bright, forbidden yellow of a sun that shines for everyone.
By Gloria La China8 days ago in Fiction
In Dark Trees
Introduction This is inspired by the image shared on Facebook by The Enchanted Booklet here: The music is "In Dark Trees" by Brian Eno.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 8 days ago in Fiction
No Crying Over Spilt Romance
Oh, you’re a hand-shaker? Well, nice to meet you. I’m Nancy, your narrator. Don’t worry, I know about narrative structure. I majored in English Literature (minored in Women’s Studies) then went on to do an MBA in Marketing, which is all about getting the story right.
By Rachel Robbins8 days ago in Fiction
Blood on the Carpet
“Your blood is getting on the carpet,” she said. “Oh, I’ll clean that up,” I said. I went and got the mop and started to clean it up. I could hardly stand but the handle helped hold me up. I cleaned it up and put a new bandage on the wound.
By Raine Fielder9 days ago in Fiction
At 2:14, the Earth Listens
The first time Mara noticed the hour, she assumed it was coincidence. 2:14 a.m. The clock on her bedside table glowed that soft, watery green that feels almost alive in a dark room. She had rolled over half-asleep, arm searching for Elias out of habit, and instead of warm skin she found cold sheets and the faint dip of where his body had been moments before.
By Lawrence Lease9 days ago in Fiction
The Chronos Key. AI-Generated.
Ethan had a knack for finding treasures in the mundane. Most people saw dusty junk at Mrs. Gable’s annual garage sale; Ethan saw potential. This year, his eye landed on a tarnished brass pocket watch, nestled between a chipped ceramic cat and a stack of yellowed National Geographics. It was heavy, intricately engraved with gears and suns and moons, and utterly silent. No tick, no hum.
By Alicia Lenea9 days ago in Fiction
Choose Your Own Adventure: St Helena Station . Top Story - February 2026.
*****Preface***** I have been obsessed with Choose Your Own Adventure stories since I was a kid. I credit them with my love of reading and writing. I've been struggling to get my own kids to embrace words the same way I have but they love video games and our occasional Dungeon's and Dragon's game... which gave me an idea. I'll write an interactive story. So far its working; my middle son loves it and can't wait for the next section to come out.
By Sandor Szabo9 days ago in Fiction