Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Awaken the Dreaming
The corridors were lined with ancient texts and old oil paintings set in golden frames and crackled shellac. Rich tapestries of silk and wool decorated the floors as ornate carvings protruded from the earthen walls casting shadows and story from the candles that flickered nearby. The air was thick and sweet with a subtle aroma of jasmine and chai spiced tea.
By Donna Raymond5 years ago in Fiction
Peachy
In her complexion there lay a latent rouge which would emerge if she had been running for the train, or he told her she was pretty. In truth, she was very pretty, but she moved slowly and with the languor of a young teenage boy. All her elegance was in her face. Her eyes and brows were dark, and clashed broodingly with an otherwise pale disposition. Her Cupid’s Bow rose aggressively, but with a certain symphonic grace that moved around the rest of her face like a swirling wind. She had it in her to bite with a single look. On other days though, usually when the sun had brought out her freckles and kissed her skin, she would let down her guard and a downy innocence would bashfully emerge, like a peach. He often told her as much, immediately after having paid her some compliment deliberately devised to illuminate her cheeks. ‘Like a peach, that’s soft and sweet the whole way through – no stone’ he would say.
By Jonnie Walker5 years ago in Fiction
Queen of Hearts
There was no one left in the city after the blasts. Or so he thought as he continued to scavenge for any remaining food in the area. Where once stood "the greatest city in the world" was now an empty wasteland of what used to be. Buildings that once blocked the sky had become piles at his feet. He only knew survival. He only knew war. He once had peace but he lost that.
By Shannon van Alst5 years ago in Fiction
Little Cemetery in the City
“You brushed my hair and tucked me in, made me laugh for hours on end. You kissed my boo-boos when I fooled around. Mommy, you never let me down” I stood in front of the mothers of Mrs. Watkinson’s first grade class, listening to my classmates’ stupid poems that sounded to me like stolen greeting cards. I stood there silently and picked at the runs in my tights. I decided on my finest skirt and tee shirt combo that morning in an attempt to be what my Aunt Lora called “presentable”, but in that moment, on display in front of everyone, I missed my ripped jeans that had a crooked yet lovingly hand-stitched cat on them. My tights itched and my feet were cramped. Everything was wrong.
By Josephine Smith5 years ago in Fiction
The Bunker
Day: 137 : Monica: My mother died today. The airlock in her bedroom was breached while she slept, there are only three of us now. I thought I would be more upset, but I don’t think any of us expected to live this long anyway. None of us know why her airlock failed, but there’s been tension in the air for weeks, ever since our rations started disappearing. Radhika and I are convinced that Dev has been preparing to try and venture outside. Maybe he’s been stocking up. These days it doesn’t really matter anymore, and I’m convinced the end is coming soon… No one has radioed back to us in over two months, but my mom stayed hopeful until her dying day. I guess it just goes to show that faith can’t save any of us. Radhika is calling to me, it’s time for us to bury my mother. This is Monica signing off.
By Morgan McNamara5 years ago in Fiction









