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Most recently published stories in Fiction.

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Poem PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT This is an official notice. Please pause whatever you are doing and read the following message carefully.
By On that4 days ago in Fiction
: Instructions for Letting Someone Go (Without Breaking Completely)
Disclaimer These instructions are not guaranteed to work. Side effects may include sudden tears, unexpected memories, and the urge to reread old messages at 2 a.m. Proceed carefully.
By On that4 days ago in Fiction
THE COSMIC INTERROGATION: JANUARY 22 IS JUDGMENT DAY (3I/ATLAS)
The universe rarely gives second chances. Usually, when an interstellar visitor screams through our solar system, it stays hidden in the dark, keeping its secrets as it fades into the void. We saw this with ‘Oumuamua, a silent cigar-shaped riddle that refused to speak. We saw it with 2I/Borisov, which kept its distance. But 3I/ATLAS is different. It isn't just passing through; it is putting on a show. And on January 22, 2026, at exactly 13:00 UTC, a celestial tumbler is going to click into place, offering humanity a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see what this thing really is. The Perfect Trap Astronomers call it "opposition." I call it a spotlight. On this specific date, the Earth will slide directly between the Sun and 3I/ATLAS. This is not a random flyby. It is a geometrically perfect alignment that creates a phenomenon known as the "Opposition Surge". Think of it like a deer caught in high beams. Usually, when we look at objects in space, shadows hide the details. The surface texture, the craters, the machinery—it all gets lost in the darkness of the angle. But on January 22, the angle between the Sun, Earth, and the object will drop to almost zero. This triggers a rare physical effect called "Shadow-hiding". For a brief window, every shadow on the surface of 3I/ATLAS will vanish. The object will not just reflect light; it will erupt in brightness, illuminated from directly behind us. Faster Than a Bullet Why does this matter? Because 3I/ATLAS is a monster. It was clocked moving at 57.7 kilometers per second relative to the Sun. To put that in perspective, the previous visitors were sluggish by comparison—‘Oumuamua moved at 26.4 km/s, and Borisov at 32.3 km/s. 3I/ATLAS is moving with a velocity that suggests it is either running from something, or rushing toward something. And unlike its predecessors, which were ghosts in the machine, 3I/ATLAS has an "anti-tail jet". It has a stream of material pointing toward the Sun, fighting against the solar wind. Nature doesn't usually build thrusters that point the wrong way. The Quantum Spike The alignment on January 22 offers more than just light. It offers a glimpse into the quantum realm. At this precise angle (less than 2 degrees), scientists are waiting for something called "Coherent Backscatter". This is where light waves traveling through the dust and surface of the object interfere with each other constructively, creating a sharp, intense spike of brightness driven by quantum mechanics. This is the moment of truth. If 3I/ATLAS is just a "fluffy fractal aggregate" of dust, the surge will be broad and dull. But if the particles are compact—or if the surface is manufactured, smooth, or metallic—the surge will be narrow and blinding. We are about to find out if we are looking at a cloud of primitive dust, or the hull of something much more solid. The geometry is locked in. The clock is ticking
By Wellova 4 days ago in Fiction
Pebbling
She woke to the soundless glow of her phone. It lay face down on the nightstand, but the screen had lit itself sometime before dawn, a thin bar of light leaking onto the wood. She rolled onto her side and reached for it, careful not to wake him. His breathing was steady, the shallow rise and fall of his chest familiar enough that she could tell what part of sleep he was in by sound alone.
By Jesse Lee4 days ago in Fiction
The Devil's Opponent: The Root of Evil Manifesto. Content Warning.
The Devil's Opponent: Root of Evil Manifesto Chapter 1 Raven Grimm was a rather funny, but handsome man who owned a magic store in the big city called “The Capricorn”. It was his little slice of paradise and a good reason for him to stay out of working at a fucking job which would just end up making him “just over broke”. He had such a feminine face and long silky white hair that spoke of many years of wisdom that he wore down around his shoulders. He looked so much younger than he really was. He was what you might call a femboy or at least that's what he preferred to call himself. Born on February 18th, 1993 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. so currently he was 33 years old, but looked to be in his twenties still. He was perhaps the most available bachelor in his area and yet no woman or man would touch him with a ten foot pole because of a cursed ring he could not take off. It was silver with a great black diamond set into it. The diamond was so dark and dense it felt as if it were absorbing the energy around it and to his knowledge it actually was. He hated how heavy it felt on his hand. It felt like an overpriced slave collar. He cursed the woman who put this on him night and day, but to no avail she never seemed to return to him. He looked around at the shoppers in his store and saw one pick up a tarot deck out of curiosity. He was meaning to teach classes on how to read them, but lacked the energy to invest in such a project since managing his store took up what motivation and energy he did have. A young woman in a billowing cloak came into the store just as he was thinking of closing up shop. She had brown hair and hazel eyes the color of the forest and river and skin that was basically white. What did she want here? He wondered as she picked up a black and red candle for spell casting and came to the register where he stood.
By Eris Willow4 days ago in Fiction
Aristotle and the Student of Logic.
🌀 Aristotle’s Logic… Gone Delightfully Haywire Aristotle stood beneath the olive tree, stroking his beard with the serene confidence of a man who believed the universe could be tamed by syllogisms... That it could be schooled by reasoning in which conclusions are drawn from two premises, with a common or middle term being present in the premises...but not in the conclusion.
By Novel Allen4 days ago in Fiction
The Weight of Loving What Would Not Stay
Prose Poetry By Anees Ul Ameen I began carrying ghosts long before I knew how to name them. They arrived quietly, dressed as memories, pretending to be harmless. I let them in because loneliness has a way of mistaking familiarity for safety. Each one took a corner of my chest and rearranged it without asking.
By anees4 days ago in Fiction
The Devil's Cut . Top Story - January 2026.
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
I Never Stopped Loving Him—Even After I Died
From the other side, love doesn’t fade. It waits. By Anees Ul Ameen I remember the moment I died. Not the impact. Not the pain.
By anees4 days ago in Fiction
Suprematism. Abstract art based on feelings.
Suprematism is an early 20th-century art movement focused on the fundamentals of geometry (circles, squares, rectangles), painted in a limited range of colors. The term suprematism refers to an abstract art style based upon "the supremacy of pure artistic feeling" rather than on the figurative depiction of real-life subjects.
By Antoni De'Leon4 days ago in Fiction
The House That Didn’t Want Visitors
I wasn’t looking for it. That part matters. People always think places like this are found by those who search. Adventurers. Dreamers. Curious minds.
By Arman Malak4 days ago in Fiction
The Message That Came Too Late. AI-Generated.
Start The phone buzzed quietly on my nightstand, and I almost ignored it. Almost. Something about a notification at 2:17 a.m. feels wrong. You don’t get texts this late unless someone is drunk, desperate, or… something worse.
By Arman Malak4 days ago in Fiction