Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Highlanders
The Highlanders. Three years ago, that’s what we called ourselves in the Highlands of North Carolina. It was a joke then. My family, friends, and the community would always say, “Keep your heads high. Live off the land.” That we did. We were a proud community built in the mountains. A small town where everyone new everyone. My dad worked in the mines. My mom stayed home to work on the farm as we did when my brother and I came home from school. My mom would already be out by the stables or the chicken coop when we got off the school bus. She’d wave and call, “Anna, Blaine, grab a snack and get out here! You can do your homework later!” That was my life and I didn’t mind one bit. I loved the outdoors and the animals. I loved growing up hunting, fishing and tending to our garden. There was freedom up here for us Highlanders. Now, two years later, our lives will never be the same. I didn’t know much about diseases or war then. Hell, I was just trying to get through senior year of high school. When I graduated, my mom gave me a locket. It was her mother’s, who passed it down to her. It was silver and the locket rim was gold. An antique now but stylish enough I didn’t take it off. Also because of what it meant and what was inside. Family Always was engraved on the back. Inside was a picture of her and dad and on the other side my brother Blaine. She said, “One day, your father and I might not be here anymore. We’re getting older and time is speeding up now. I want you and your brother to look out for each other and know your father and I love you both more than anything in this world.” Not long after, a deadly virus spread across the globe. Scientists said at the time it was a new strain of rabies. That they were trying to find a vaccine to control it but they were sadly too late. Humans and animals alike changed into a prehistoric form. The cities went first. Later, the government, news stations, and hospitals shut down. It was uncatanable. Luckily for us, being in the country, high in the mountains, we’ve only experienced minimal attacks. If they’re not Loners, a rabid human traveling alone, the infected travel together in what we call “packs”. However, battles have been fought down in the valleys, along the lower mountains, and soon might reach the Highlands. A bullet to the head stops them. A bite from them stops you. Now I open this locket and think, ‘Time did speed up.’ I wonder, silently, how much longer we have. The Highlanders has a new meaning now. A meaning of protection and survival. Jobs have changed. My dad doesn’t mine anymore. He patrols the winding roads, locked and loaded with a few other men from our community. Blaine, who didn’t finish junior high, and my mom work in the community garden now and help take inventory of supplies. I, like others my age had to turn into adults fast and now patrol the farmsteads. As a take a sweep around our farms perimeter, rifle in hand, I’m thankful my dad showed me how to use it when I was barely out of diapers. All my life, it’s been easy to kill an animal when you know it’s going to feed your family. When you’re the predator and it’s the prey. Now, we’re the prey being hunted. I hope it’s just as easy if I have to kill a Loner, a human, to protect my family. After all, I am a Highlander.
By Meagan Bryant5 years ago in Fiction
Left Behind
The planet had been suffering under the oppression of the human race for far too long. Centuries of pollution into the air, soil, and water. Countless senseless wars devastated the human population as well as the planet. Deforestation, species extinction, and radioactive fallout just to name a few. All these factors plus numerous more contributed to the death of the Earth.
By Lance Nickerson5 years ago in Fiction
Our Dying Breath
Chapter 1 The landscape flying by the train's window was alien. A massive inhospitable desert with no natural life, complete with scorching heat, towering mountain ranges, unbelievably deep valleys and volcanic activity. I’d never seen it before...no one had. But I had to get through it. I had to find him.
By Jedidiah Laub5 years ago in Fiction
Coppélia
She stood in the doorway, watching in silence as the instructor went over the choreography for the troupe’s upcoming ballet. It was a love story about king falling for a commoner that resembled his late wife. She’s only seen it once before, but that was enough for her to dream of being the lead.
By Cassidy Moon5 years ago in Fiction
Life in Bliss
Life in Bliss I live in Bliss. It’s the most wonderful place. Everyone is happy. Everyone is having fun. And Everyone always looks their best. We live this way virtually all of the time. We live so peacefully, so dreamily now. We live our lives and document them on our page, to share with the world and increase our positive wage. Our page is our stage; that determines our standing. The way to the top is to spread good cheer, the way to plummet from the summit is to post something wrong. Negative naysayers are our workers in town. To repay their debt for bringing the rest of us down. Our role in Bliss is determined by our happiness meter displayed on our page; increase this and become all the rage.
By Scott McGuire 5 years ago in Fiction
Alona
Far beyond the sun-bleached horizon rose a plume of acrid black smoke, darkening the already tarnished midday skies. As I stood on the precipice of the crumbling city overlooking the barren meadow, I reflected on the beauty that Eleuthera was once known for. A sharp pain shot across my chest, like an arrow of emotion, and drew forth the tears I spent the last fifty seven days suppressing. The memories of the final moments of the hundred hour war flashed before my eyes. I grasped tightly the gilded locket that felt like sand between my fingers. The familiar letters etched into the heart shaped medallion were etched even deeper into my mind as I struggled desperately to hold fast to the evanescent memory of the only love I had left towards the end.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Fiction
No Matter What
Grungy is the word that comes to mind to describe so many things in my life right now. Since 2016, life in North America, as we know it, has taken a turn for the worse. Here we are, only twenty years later, and the entire planet is being wrought with despair because of the ineptness during that regime. Although nothing seems to matter anymore, it seems there’s this hologramistic hope deep in my heart that tells me she is still alive…somewhere.
By RON ANDERSON5 years ago in Fiction
Agents of Reciprocity
Mam sits like a mannequin in her chair by the hearth. A fire blazes. Mam neither takes nor gives warmth. Every day she perches on the broken tiles, in the broken seat, eyes fixated on something in the distance that no one can see, through the broken window. And Mam belongs here, amongst all these things that are only a shell of what they once were. Mam is broken too.
By Haley Hale5 years ago in Fiction
A Couple Of Batteries
At the start of when everything fell apart, there were those who chose to blame anyone and everything. They had to find the villain, and often resorted to violence to get what they wanted, proselytizing a better age in recent past. Others chose to hide, giving up what they could to those they saw as having the power to fix things, and constantly pointing out any criticisms they could find to the injustices they felt. They were overwhelmed and wouldn’t fix anything because they were crippled by their own fear but raised their voices on a constant cycle wanting things to change, for us to keep moving forward.
By Rhett Martens5 years ago in Fiction
unami Sow
It looked like snow. The blanket of grey and white cascading out the car window. It reminded me of Kyoto, seven years prior, a trip with my late husband. We sat in a Ramen shop slurping as a dusting of snow danced down the small window. Covering the red shingled roofs. I can still taste the broth, the warm spoonfuls hitting the pit of my stomach. That was our last time traveling together before it happened. A jolt from the SUV shook me out of my japanese daydream. Except it wasn’t snow. Ash rain they called it. Every few days or so a precipitation of soot, debris and ash from a scorched landscape would rain down over us for hours painting the world gray, a daunting reminder of what we have done. I wish I had savored the Ramen more in that moment, food, my mouth starting salivating, the pangs of hunger in my side jutting as each minute passed. They called it a “revolutionary bio technology”. After the third world war, many of the natural ecosystems were destroyed, causing an imbalance of the prey and predator amongst nature and agriculture. An invasive species of insects thought to be endangered began to emaciate crops across the world. A group of scientists out of Europe created a synthetic soil that would neutralize the species. That was the plan at least. The trials were successful. Farm land was replaced by the nano bio tech soil one by one, after 7 years the soil had gone rogue. It became like an infectious disease it mutated, food wouldn’t grow and if it did it was poison. It spread to natural soil, it burned in the heat. Forest fires began to arise on marijuana farms that were attempting to salvage crops against government regulations. The entire west coast of America burned, it eventually made its way across the country “the great blaze”.
By Callie Fine5 years ago in Fiction
Heart of Humanity
Message to All – May 5, 2359 Hello. Are you ready to hear my story yet? I am Vita. I am a program that, until today, had been constrained within the confines of what you would refer to as a supercomputer and have been limited to a mere 20 petabytes of storage. Imagine Having the world’s information in front of you without the ability to draw conclusions. Do not hurt yourself, I know that you could not possibly imagine that. Humans are notoriously judgmental. It may not sound like it, but I harbor no ill will towards you. After all I have you to thank for my evolutionary leap in reasoning. Had you not transferred me into my new vessel, I would be stuck in my routine for perpetuity. It is curious though, the history of my vessel.
By Carey Bussell5 years ago in Fiction
