Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
The Myth of Twins Amu and Sy
I've taken a creative license on one of the ancient myths about the origin of Amu Darya and Syr Darya, the most important rivers in Central Asia. In an old Turkic language, "darya" means "river." Both rivers start in the high mountains of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Afghanistan and are fed by numerous small rivers, glaciers and spring rains. They run through Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, hugging the Kyzylkum and Karakum deserts and falling into the Aral Sea. As both rivers are extensively used for power generation and irrigation, the Aral Sea is rapidly disappearing and is considered to be one of the largest human-caused ecological disasters of the 20th century. On the map below, the original sea (Aral Kum) is marked in light yellow, and the blue on top of it is what remains of the sea today.
By Lana V Lynx3 years ago in Fiction
At Pilgrim Hospital, Chapter One
Through the ward window Presh gazed on a girl who lay bandaged and comatose beyond the glass. Sonica had been attacked. The moment Presh read of it in the Boston Standard she’d set off at once for Pilgrim Hospital on the outskirts of town, despite the late hour and the night’s pervasive damp. It was the sort of news which up until now had only ever seemed to happen to other people. You just couldn’t imagine it, thought Presh, befalling somebody you…
By Doc Sherwood3 years ago in Fiction
The Sleepless Giant. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
Come here, my child. Don’t tread the snow in. Sit with your grandmother beside the fire on this cold night, lest we freeze. The frost has reached my bones and nothing warms the soul like a story retold. Did you know the waterfall beyond the trees was the first one to ever be? Have I not yet told you how it was formed? Well, it’s as good a story as any.
By Susanna Kiernan3 years ago in Fiction
How Coyote Created the Milky-Way
When the sky was only darkness, Black God (Haashch’eezhini) sat atop a lofty mesa, viewing a panorama of the void. His own face was empty, because he was the deity of fire, which consumes all. His eyes smoldered and he bore a crescent on his forehead.
By Rob Angeli3 years ago in Fiction
Gutter
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. - Oscar Wilde Pinky was late. It wasn't like her to be late. She was one of the few people it seemed these days who still relied on a watch to tell the time and not a glowing little screen. Besides, she didn't have a place to really charge said glowing little screen, and she didn't have the money to keep it turned on. Not many of us did. Every now and then, someone would get a free phone and service through some program, and it would usually end up stolen and therefore useless. So, there I was, peeping the time on the CNN building, waiting for Pinky while Boo paced and milked a cigarette. I always said she was too young to be smoking, but she didn't have much else to calm her nerves. I wanted to glance up at the clock again, and tried to stop myself. A watched pot never boils or something, right? Time seemed to not matter much on the streets while also mattering a little too much. It only took a second to lose everything. I gave in, and looked up at the clock.
By Josey Pickering3 years ago in Fiction
The origin of flowers and colors
Once upon a time, the world was bare of beauty and color. Everything as far as the eyes could see was either black or white. People's eyes were so accustomed to the dark that it was completely commonplace to live a life of neutrality.
By Novel Allen3 years ago in Fiction
