Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Wings
All I wanted to do was fly. The only way I could do it was to find a necklace that had been hidden. After World War Ⅲ our lands became barren with radiation. Everything that was grown mutated into inedible poisonous food, it was no use for many years. Starvation and death was a common theme for many years until found out sunflowers drew out radiation from soil. When we were getting out of this great depression, one of the ‘elites’ announced that he had hidden a necklace that allowed the owner to fly. No one knew what he meant by this statement, but he left clues to where the necklace was to be found.
By Liz Mccory5 years ago in Fiction
Forsaking the Light
Death is in the dark. That's what they had said before all the schools closed down. They warned us not to go outside at night. Momma had said there were monsters out there who'd hurt all the people in town. My best friend, Isaac, said his dad was possessed by a demon. Others had said it was ghosts. I wished Isaac was here.
By Johnny Helmstetler5 years ago in Fiction
The Draven Chronicles
The dark tower loomed like a silent sentry silhouetted against a darkening sky that threatened violence. A low rumble of thunder rolled across the plains that surrounded the fortress. Strewn about the barren flatlands were ancient piles of rubble that were supposedly all that was left of a great civilization that had existed long ago. Draven glanced upward at the sky.
By Jim Sprouse5 years ago in Fiction
The girl in the red sweater…
Writing about a heart shaped locket should be easy. But, it’s not. See there’s a girl over there in a red sweater that hangs a little higher then her knees. Ripped blue jeans and crocs. Her hood is up and she’s wearing a mask. But around her neck is a locket. But on the other side of the world their might be another girl. She could be wearing a yellow sundress with glasses and hardly noticeable freckles wearing a necklace just like that. I don’t understand. She’s wearing a heart locket. But she isn’t the only one. Just a couple years ago my mom wore a locket right around her neck. In one side there was a picture of my father. The other side had her in it. But in the girls locket with the red sweater on I don’t think my mother and father are there. I could go and ask her what exactly is in it but that’s not my business. She’s pretty. She’s sitting on a bench at a bus station. All alone. She has her earbuds in her ears and she must be listening to something sad because you can see it in her eyes. They are dark brown but it’s obvious. No one seems to notice though. No one but me. Her hood is now down. She’s not alone anymore. Someone else sat at the other end of the bench. Yet this girl in the red sweater seems emotionless. But this older man that sits on the opposite side is happy. How do I know? I don’t. Maybe he is better at hiding things than she is. Maybe he found out with age. But now I know life is difficult. Now there is a couple walking past giving snarly looks. Staring at this girl in the red sweater as if she had done something wrong. Looking at her then whispering to the other. The girl in the red sweater is now leaving the bus station. She somehow missed the bus and is walking another way. She took her earbuds out and is now listening to the world. Looking at perfect families that are helping there little ones eat. Her hands are in her pockets. But now she’s gone in the crowd. The girl in the red sweater is now somewhere else walking around. It started to rain but quickly turned into a storm. I’m safely in my house and watching through the window. Seeing trees fall down and rain hit the ground. It’s crazy because just a couple hours earlier there wasn’t even a slight chance of rain and now we have this big storm that seems to be never ending. I wonder what’s happening. Now I’m in my apartment I’m not the only one near the stairs staring outside the window. There are multiple people above and below. Everything’s quiet and people are just staring. But, now there is screaming. A gun shot. Right through this young mans leg. He’s yelling and I believe that’s his wife that is calling an ambulance. They can’t come and save him though. The rain and the storm have gotten worse. It’s foggy. More gunshots. All the people that used to be crowded near me have ran into an apartment near by. But, for some little reason that I don’t know if I’m still standing here like I’m shy. The bullet hit the glass almost 2 feet away from me. I should be running. I’m still staring out the window. Screams and shouts behind me. The storm is getting worse. I just got yanked into an apartment and I’m not sure how to feel. There is blood on the floor so I’m guessing the guy that got hit before is in here. I still walked over to the window that’s inside this home. Helicopters and planes and jeez the big storm. Gunshots are now through the door. Cops. I hear them. “Put your hands up and guns on the floor!” They should’ve listened but now the gunshots are louder than the storm itself. One body two bodies seven and more. Everyone is dropping right down to the floor. So I played dead. The girl standing next to me was bleeding. She was gone. I used her blood and put it on me so they would think I got shot. The police that had yelled was now laying on the ground like everyone else here. The storm is slowing down. No more screams hardly any sound other than the wind and rain outside. Inside is quiet. Everyone must’ve got shot. The shooters are also down somehow. And no one is moving. So I stay on the ground for another couple of hours. The storm has died down, just like all the people in every apartment in this town. I hate how quiet it is. Almost 18 hours ago I was near the bus station and I saw a girl in a red sweater. Speaking of her. I see that exact sweater laying almost 100 feet from me. I get up and walk slowly to her. The locket still around her neck and still clasped shut. She’s breathing. Wait, she’s like me. Covered in other people’s blood. Her and I seem to be the only survivors. I didn’t know her name and she didn’t know mine either. We got up holding each others hands and walked slowly down the 3 flights of stairs to outside. The sky cleared and everything was like how it was 18 hours ago but instead of there being rude couples and people in general. Her and I was all that was left. The road was empty. We were alone. Looking around, and looking at this mess. “Reagan. That’s my name.” We talked as we walked out of this town. Past other towns as well. No one was around only her and I. Little did I know the topic would change to heart shaped lockets. Raegan and I were similar. We both had one. Except hers had her dog and a small mirror and mine had my mother and father.
By Alexandra Wright 5 years ago in Fiction
I Am Ruin
No-one could remember when the words began appearing on the architecture of modern civilization. It was a hideous graffiti, painted without care of style or aesthetics. The words dripped a heavy black ink that ran as if slowly applied to the surface. The style was not artful and it had a homogeneous consistency that suggested the same author. The message was unsettling and filled with rage as if the words themselves were sentient. I Am Ruin the words read, the implication was ominous and malignant. It wasn't noticeable at first, the placements were haphazard and random, not robust but thin and crooked. It was only after it was too late that people made any sort of connection to the writing and their arrival. Memory cannot recall where they came from either or when exactly things began to change, there was no big show of it. It was a reconnaissance operation and then an infiltration, an operation of stealth and silence. Did they arrive or were they born of the earth? A question never to be answered.
By Jared Bushnell 5 years ago in Fiction
Scorched
It's never like how you would read. The apocalypse wasn't a part of a big war, or a science experiment gone wrong, or some disease mutated, but human intervention. It's been years since it happened, the water mostly drying up, and the sun scorching the earth.
By Avangaline Ascheman5 years ago in Fiction
Fate Caster
Fate Caster By Mandy Penney Valdez If it weren’t for my mother’s stubbornness, I wouldn’t be alive. The elders said I should be put out in the woods to die. They said it was less cruel than watching me wither away slowly. But my mother wouldn’t hear it, and even though she was tired and weak from giving birth, she wouldn’t let anyone touch me. And my father wouldn’t let anyone touch her.
By Mandy P Valdez5 years ago in Fiction
