Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Hyper Hour Stage
The first sign of the virus is melancholy. Sometimes I wonder whether it's the human brain opposing death or the human soul struggling to leave the fragile body when they die. Usually when I am about to kill them, my remaining sense of humanity makes me hesitate in doing the act and an opening glimpse of these people's lives flash on to me as their dead eyes stare deeply into mine. Too deeply in fact, I could almost feel their touch, and their warmth. It all reminds me of one thing - Momma.
By ncee writing5 years ago in Fiction
Fairy tales
I was born almost four Jovian years ago. The malnourished child of malnourished parents – scratching out an existence in an underground settlement on Callisto. My mother would tell me stories of old Earth – a beautiful blue world with open skies, endless water and room enough for all people to live. It always felt like a wonderous fairy tale to me. Fantastic and unbelievable. I had never seen the stars, let alone blue skies and oceans of water.
By Chris Bagnall5 years ago in Fiction
'The Rich'
“You a vagrant?” He rounded on the girl and tried to straighten an overgrown beard that itched worse than ivy. Rosy cheeks. Dirty face to match his. He hadn't even noticed her amongst the scrapheaps that lined the road leading up and over a hill – husks of antiquated tech stripped of anything useful.
By J. J. Mayus5 years ago in Fiction
Excerpt From A Guided Tour Of The Museum Of Terrible Things
1. There it was, hidden among the whut whut whut of the comings and goings, hidden—just barely hidden—behind the pearly voice of Glory Good as she ran through the morning announcements: savory pudding dust for dinner, mandatory march at four, may the good ones keep us safe and similar. The sound was unmistakably there—and it went on until Mondita could no longer ignore it.
By Are Kölsch5 years ago in Fiction
A Homecoming...
Tallan stood in the high-ceilinged room, feeling the emptiness all around him. Everyone had stepped back from him, standing against the walls, spectators to whatever would enfold. As Tallan watched, a man pushed his way through the crowd standing on the raised platform. He was tall and poorly dressed, in drab browns and grays, and his face had a hard look about it. He stepped out in front of the others—and suddenly froze as his eyes met Tallan’s.
By charlotte meilaender5 years ago in Fiction
