Fatal Serendipity
Bio
Fatal Serendipity writes flash, micro, speculative and literary fiction, and poetry. Their work explores memory, impermanence, and the quiet fractures between grief, silence, connection and change. They linger in liminal spaces and moments.
Stories (82)
Filter by community
Until The City Cries. Content Warning.
Chloe climbed the stairs to the roof as the sky leaned into orange. Ten stories lifted her above the crush of the Village, and for a moment the city shaped itself like a promise. Glass towers drank the sun until their edges dripped gold. The river spread its long arm in light. Bridges wrote their names with steel and cables. From this height, nothing looked bruised.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
A Census of Lovers. Content Warning.
Sloan froze when a photograph appeared on the screen. She dragged the page back up, certain her eyes had played a trick, and leaned closer to the light. A row of colleagues stood pressed together at the opening of a civic project, the ribbon stretched across the frame, every smile sharp with celebration. She barely registered most of them. Her focus locked on the man in the middle. The caption named him Blake, senior partner, innovator, mentor. She read the line twice, her lips forming the words while her mind clung to his face. His hair was neatly parted, his suit cut to flatter, his grin steady and sure. The angle of his cheek carried her backward in time. It was Nick. A year had passed since the funeral, yet here he stood again in daylight, alive inside another name.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Reconstruction #9. Content Warning.
Morning fills the warehouse studio much like clay packs beneath fingernails. Skylights allow in a cold, steady light that rests on unfinished heads. Zora moves through them with the calm precision of a carpenter, wire clippers held in her palm, her black smock marked with gray. Each frame stands upright on a metal spine, vertebrae fused the previous day. She adjusts the alignment, shifts a jaw, angles a cheekbone slightly to the left. The faces around her show no sign of life, but she handles each part as if breath already stirs beneath the surface. She listens to the tension of plaster pressed to steel, to the faint creak of a collarbone when she adds weight. A radio murmurs from the loft above the office.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Midnight Affairs
"Let me tell you about my day," you type in the subject line. You woke up before Dan, as you always do. You moved quietly, taking great care not to stir him. It’s as if your presence is a nuisance. You make coffee and sip it alone while drafting an email to Midnight. Dan wouldn’t understand, and you’re not sure he’d even care at this point.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Jonah Before the Whale. Content Warning.
The boy known as Jonah wasn't born with that name; he discovered it in a small motel Bible hidden in the laundry chute at the halfway house. The pages were thin enough to roll smokes. When he first read about the man swallowed whole, he laughed because being devoured felt more genuine than being saved.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
Paper Sky
The river didn’t even touch her knees. She lay in the cold for a while, pretending to be dead, because it felt worse to explain. The dog barked from the shoreline. The boy, maybe sixteen, shouted something that didn’t matter. When the EMTs lifted her onto the gurney, she finally spoke. She asked for her notebook.
By Fatal Serendipity5 months ago in Fiction
