Top Stories
Stories in Chapters that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Under the Florida Sun
Prologue- June 23, 2014 A long time ago someone, history remembers as unknown said. "Under the Florida sun is the best place to be." I think they were right. Because there's no place, I'd rather be than sitting on the shores of Grasshopper Lake with my toes dancing in warm grains of sugar sand feeling lake water run up along my feet before circling around my ankles while my eyes look out across the ripples of water in front of me for gators breaking the surface like branches floating.
By The Invisible Writer2 years ago in Chapters
Transgenderism and Me
Realizing that I'm trans man took longer then I thought. Before then, I identified as non-binary. Something that made me feel a little better. But, not too much. There was this strange feeling that I had underneath the vague sense of relief. I guess it had been dysphoria?
By Raphael Fontenelle2 years ago in Chapters
BANG BANG//: Chapter 1) Roll-Call. Content Warning.
Watercolor by Halston Williams. PROLOGUE: Brain Painted Is this the setting of the next great American Novel, these corridors peppered with bullet-holes, blackened with shock of powder? Should these hallways, decked with finger-paintings and crayon creations, conceal the gore of these classrooms? a splat from how many children's heads and hearts?
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Chapters
Gone Too Soon
A Bridge to Hell I lifted the recent photo from my office desk and thought of my great day with my children. We had spent the last days of summer together on Lake Keowee boating. We didn't know it would be the last day the three of us spent together. Though imperfect at times, they had overcome and survived the antics and hazards of their teen years.
By J. S. Wade2 years ago in Chapters
A River Of Tears
Less than three hours southwest of Madrid lies a valley called Valle de Jerty, in the province of Caceras, in Extremadura. The valley is well known in Spain, not so much outside of the country, for its stunning natural beauty, massive acreage of cherry blossom, and turbulent, rocky rivers.
By Liam Ireland2 years ago in Chapters
Magic in the Northern Lights
Have you ever seen something so miraculous that the very moment takes your breath away? It's been 8 months and I’m still out of breath somehow. I started my travel journey in December of 2022 finally seeing my girlfriend after 3 long years of covid lockdowns. We traveled throughout Germany for the new years, and I saw the beauty of the country. Though the journey was full of wonderful experiences, I began to see the cracks in the foundation of our relationship. After a few short weeks, constant fights and incompatibilities I decided it was better to go our separate ways.
By Matthew Mccahey2 years ago in Chapters
French Kiss
The flight attendant dimmed the cabin lights hours ago. Only three reading lights glowed, casting an eerie pall on the few passengers under them who, like me, couldn’t sleep. The man behind me was awake and staring out the window as I stood and pirouetted toward the lavatory. He turned in his seat and looked up at me, the spitting image of William Shatner in the Twilight Zone episode “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” which I had watched two days earlier. He had the same pensive way of lifting the inner corners of his eyebrows, His hair was razor cut around the ears and nape, combed away from his face. Almost everyone else on the airplane was dressed in jeans, but he wore a charcoal suit with his tie still knotted. I hoped he wasn’t seeing little gremlins scurrying on the wings, trying to disable the plane. He smiled at me, and murmured, “Something is on the wing.” Damn, I thought. I knew it! I knew this would go badly. I must have looked like I had not understood him, because he repeated what he said: “Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle.” Relieved, I whispered, “Good night to you, too, Monsieur.” Thank God there were no hairy gremlins far above the Atlantic Ocean, only the twinkling lights that made us visible in the velvet night as we sliced through it toward Paris. My jitters were a product of my active imagination --- and what I had done.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler2 years ago in Chapters
This is where it gets dark.
"Mom, she’s dead.” I don’t know how I wrote those words or why I chose to say it that way. But those were the facts. They found her and she was dead. How else do you say that? I had to tell my mom, she knew we’d been out looking for Libby all day. So, I just said it. My phone was old and the battery was of course on 1% which meant I had to say it quickly. I remember trying to think of a different way to say “my battery is dying” because the words “dead” and “dying” were now suddenly very real and literal for me. Mary Anne was crying, and her friend Wendy who’d come to be a support was crying. I think I was crying too. I think I was also completely made of stone. I guess it was shock. But to be honest, I knew in my gut as soon as I got the call that morning telling me Libby was missing that it wouldn’t end like it did last time. But still my body and brain were made of cold, hard, marble. All I could do was whatever had to be done. Mary Anne and I knew that the next thing that had to be done was to tell Kathryn. But she was thousands of miles away getting ready to perform on Broadway.
By Mary Skinner2 years ago in Chapters
Beer Money. Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge.
Masters Degree secured, job quit, full-time writing career underway, the first part of my revenge was almost complete. Who cared if I was a fat, ambitious, opinionated motherfucker? Well, him obviously, but who else?
By S. A. Crawford2 years ago in Chapters
What They Don't Tell You About Being The Creative One
What they don’t tell you about being “The Creative One” is that everything you do is a copy of someone else. Your notebook is filled with snowflakes in bright pink, purple, and blue. Ever since you saw Frozen, it’s all you think about. Your pen draws each stroke like an ice skater glides across the rink. The geometric shapes and straight lines are soothing to draw, and it is more entertaining than listening to dry lectures. When you’re not drawing snowflakes, you’re writing Sherlock Holmes fiction. As you sit and listen to Dr. Davis drone on and on about something completely unrelated to Child Psychology, young John and Sherlock are adventuring through the streets of London with the newest addition to their team, a bloodhound pup named Toby.
By Sarah Massey2 years ago in Chapters
