Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Lavender Rain
The end of time. For so long, humanity thought they knew what it would be. Perhaps it would come slowly, in Biblical plagues and wars. Maybe the modern ideas of Y2K or biological warfare would prevail to wipe us out. In the end though, we did it. “We ended ourselves.” Grace thought. She sighed and closed the heart-shaped locket and let it slip back into her shirt. She glanced up, tucking her short fall of nutmeg colored hair behind her ear and surveyed her surroundings. Built by time and dripping water, stalactites and stalagmites were picked out in the narrow beams of light from the pocked ceiling of the cave that had become her refuge for the last few nights. She had hoped to find water here. Some small pool left in this space so full of reminders that it had once dripped here for millennia.
By Rebecca Forrest5 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Heart
Sam looked at the thumb-sized, heart-shaped crystal as it shimmered and sparkled in the setting sun. It was carefully inserted in a metal inlay from the Age of Miracles. Someone, perhaps her grandfather or great-grandfather attached a leather thong so she could keep it around her neck. The crystal was incredibly tough, and the edges of the crystal could easily cut flesh or skin a pelt off a rabbit, such as the one caught in her snare. It was a hidden treasure that had been in her family for generations with the instruction to keep it hidden and keep it safe. Her father normally kept it buried in a secret spot.
By Cedron Spaulding5 years ago in Fiction
Fortune's Hand
Heavy grey clouds threatened rain off to the north. Rada could almost taste the acridity of it already, and scowled at her task as she dug her fingers into the ever-damp soil. She always promised that her little brother Henrik would have first choice; this was a lie, but he didn’t need to know.
By H R Williams5 years ago in Fiction
Where’s your heart?
Why? What are these dreams? For the last few months I’ve been having what I consider a nightmare. You’d think being without any family for 13 years is a nightmare. Ever since the world fell to chaos because of petty disagreements between countries, I’ve been searching this hell for some type of life form. At least one that isn’t trying to turn me into human mashed potatoes.
By Althea Doe5 years ago in Fiction
Alive
My father had told me that the silence was wrong. The forest was once full of life, he had said, and that life would tell travelers when the sun was about to rise. He talked to me about how birds and insects would begin to sing to greet the new day, and the vitality the sun brought with it. Walking down the road with the remains of the silent forest spread out for miles on both sides of me, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought- the sheer absurdity of any living thing greeting their slow death with a cheerful song. Then again, here I am laughing at my own morbid thoughts on a deserted highway. Maybe the animals weren’t wrong after all.
By Joseph Piecuch5 years ago in Fiction
Memories
The jingling sound of metal on metal woke Jordy with a start. He peered out from under the fallen pile of brick and rotting wood that probably used to be the outside wall of a house. This small pocket underneath the debris was his shelter last night. The sound was moving away from him but that didn’t mean anything. He had almost been caught once by assuming that no more noise meant safe to come out. It didn’t, not any more. He stayed where he was, breathing through his mouth and searched the lightening gloom of predawn for the source of the noise. Raiders? Travelers? Trader? If it was a trader, he could use some supplies.
By Ken Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Rat Duty
Jacob walked with the practiced ease of a man who learned his environment from years of repetition. He knew when to duck beneath hammocks, when to suck in his belly to get through tight hallways piled high with equipment, and when to keep his hands on his belongings to stave off pickpockets. Jacob was skinny enough to make traveling in the tight confines of the bunker easy, yet tall enough that he had developed a stoop to avoid hitting his head against the ceiling. His beard had grown beyond military discipline, but it was a minor protest they allowed so long as he completed his duties. He’d been a librarian before the bombs fell, but the powers that be assigned him to a life of rat duty. Day-in and day-out, rodents were chewing their way through the steel walls of the bunker, and it was Jacob’s role to keep them out.
By Max Russell5 years ago in Fiction
A Mother’s Heart
Amy knew not to sit still too long in this spot. She crouched behind the rusty ,blue Dodge and crawled off into the tree line at the edge of Summersville’s remnants. She stopped again after a few feet of sprinting in the pine needles and dead leaves to sit in the cold and catch her breath. She thought of her mom again.
By Ashlee Hale5 years ago in Fiction
Into the (H)aether
The morning bloomed through the heather. A soft morning, with the sky cast like a child’s breath on a fogged up, window of a ’93 chevy, flying down the coastline to escape the summer’s heat. My name was also Heather. It was an error in the Simulation, that I had been named after the scene in the Sim, in another life I would have probably found the oversight funny but the humour had been wrung out of me, quite some time ago. Now I just blankly held the clothes up to the line and followed the cracks in the Sim with my finger, wondering when I would be let out, when my purpose would come.
By J.R. Nelson 5 years ago in Fiction
