Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Engine
It took the porter forty-two minutes and seventeen seconds to carry the screaming woman from carriage 194 all the way forward to the Conductor’s car, which was immediately behind the engine itself. This was almost half the length of the entire train, a distance of 3.22 kilometres.
By Madoka Mori4 years ago in Fiction
How to write a good villain
When we read novels or watch movies and television works, we often feel that the villain is more impressive than the main character, and even has a kind of indescribable charm, so how to make these "childhood shadow" or "dark horse prince" like villain in our own works become "both lovely and hateful"?
By Liston Flowers4 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Springhill Jack
When walking through the green land of Kilt, like the rest of the plane of Randós, it’s important to remember that every step is counted by someone. The men of the north in Terrador take the fewest steps, for every step is taken through knee deep snow. The elves of Lareth take the second fewest, for they live on a collection of small islands scattered through the Opal Ocean. The men and dwarves of Ekarus take many steps, for they hike over tall mountains to make war with one another. However, the men and women of Kilt take the most steps, for they are searching for adventure. They walk with their bare feet across the verdant green fields looking to write their own story and no one has taken more steps or written more tales than the old wizard Springhill Jack.
By Braison Cyrus4 years ago in Fiction
Train of Thought
David slowly opened his eyes. As they adjusted to the harsh light, he began to examine his surroundings. From what he could tell, he was on a train. There was the rhythmic clack clack clacking of the tracks, and the chair beneath him was made from the hard, scratched plastic associated with public transport and hospitals.
By Matthew Smith4 years ago in Fiction
TRACKS
Chapter One Rapping. Tapping. Rhythmic beats between steel and wood slowly stir me from my slumber. I open my eyes to find my face planted against a window. I look to the table to reassure myself that my bag is where I left it. It is. My cellphone has no service, though. Perfect. I’m immediately greeted by a piercing headache and wince in pain. My left hand reaches around my head, in search for the source. I feel something brittle and pull it from my matted scalp. Dried Blood.
By Sarah Faith Ethridge4 years ago in Fiction
Selected
The rain pounded as I finally returned from work. It was already a long day at the office. Every time it rains, the electricity has its issues. I was constantly taking phone calls from the technicians. My mind was racing through the awful raindrops. My day never did improve, even after it was raining all day. I started this job five years ago, and yet nothing seemed to gain any advancement towards management. It is a miserable little town, and all the outdated systems never last long in any weather. The day was already draining, and yet heading home to just entertain too long of a long week. I was hoping the rain would have ended, but my car was in the shop, and no other choice but to walk home. Not only was I soaking wet, but I felt like I needed to pass out. Halfway home, I felt so lost, and my mind blurred. Still, I do now remember anyone around. Before I knew it, everything just blacked out.
By Sarah Danaher4 years ago in Fiction
Terminus Unknown. Runner-Up in The Runaway Train Challenge.
Out of a murky abyss, I awakened to a horn blaring through my fog. The warning blast rose in pitch to a peak and ended with a staccato burst. In the resulting silence, a perpetual pulse emanated like the mantle clock on my grandmother's hearth. The horn trumpeted again like Archangel Michael in the heavens with the coda of a constant bell intoning a departure. Blind to sight, absolute darkness engulfed me. Confused, I commanded my hands to explore, but my trusted appendages had joined my eyes in rebellion. A horn, a bell? I must be on a train. Why a train? Where am I? Where are we going?
By J. S. Wade4 years ago in Fiction
Fate Train. Runner-Up in The Runaway Train Challenge.
Sarah smelt ammonia. The putrid aroma tickled her nose as she jostled her body onto its opposite side, frustrated that the harsh smell was disturbing her sleep. This blissful nap was the best rest she’d had in months, years even. Facing a different direction, the smell abated and slowly she was rocked into another REM cycle. The inertia of back and forth was constant beneath her. The movement was so soothing, it was an invitation into total relaxation. Sarah wasn’t ready to wake up. The last few weeks had been nothing short of exhausting.
By Dana Stewart4 years ago in Fiction
1983
The year is 1983, and I am going to turn thirteen in November. It's the third of June. I have already seen Return of the Jedi five times. I am proud of this fact, at this critical time in my life, as it is currently three more times than my best friend, Kale. His name is actually Justin, but like me, his folks are Portuguese, and it seems like every meal is kale this, kale that. So, I just call him Kale, “Kale of the Kale Family, The family who eats kale.” He doesn’t seem to mind being called “Kale,” and I let him call me “Flinch,” somehow that describes my nervous, distracted nature better than “John.” Life is simple. School and friends and movies and video games. Speaking of games, Kale and I are supposed to be going to see War Games tonight.
By H.G. Silvia4 years ago in Fiction
