Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

Almost There
The boy stopped, holding his fist up to signal for the girl to do the same. She did so, gladly. Her feet burned as if on fire, cuts and bruises covering almost every inch.
By Blake Anglin5 years ago in Fiction
Surviving the Collapse
Reika panted as she ran through the forest, her strawberry colored hair flowing behind her in the wind. She had been running for what felt like an eternity, her legs felt like jelly and as if she would fall over at any moment. She was running on pure adrenaline, that and her basic survival instincts. She ran and ran and ran and kept running, refusing to stop despite her aching lungs and sore feet practically begging her to take a break. She refused to be caught, she’d survived far too long in this world to just give up now.
By Alex Pennington5 years ago in Fiction
Lock to unlock
”I’m fine..I’m ok” said Sua as he climbed out of the rubble. His hair full of dust; the fallen remains of the bits of rock, only minutes earlier he had been climbing. It wasn’t his fault. The way the world stood today, catching glimpses of what was to come was the only way anyone could survive. You needed to be aware. To be ready. It was you against the world. It was the kind of scenario that until now only existed in the movies. Everything was bare. Everything was barren. The only thing people shared now was the unified thought that they would do anything to survive. The rock Sua had been climbing stood just slightly off the edge of an unfulfilled road. Where once was a highway, now only showed 2 roads standing with a huge gap in between. A hole the size of the one that had grown in peoples hearts. As he gathered himself together, and the strength to get back on his feet, Sua couldn’t help but think about the events that had brought him to where he was today. The sound of the television the day everything changed. That announcement on the news, informing people that from here on out there was no such thing as politics. There was no longer any government to tell people what to do. No president, no royal family on any land. No borders separating any country. After the endless complaints and impending wars, every world leader had decided in unison to let the world just do what it wants. To go back to the tribal times. It was the kind of news that people at first rejoiced about but then immediately regretted. While some took advantage of the situation, grasping it with both hands to finally let their inner demons have what they had always wanted, others, such as Sua, wanted nothing more than to have their life back. Society had never been kind to Sua, but kindness never came free anyways. There was always something in it for someone. So why be unhappy about being saved from such a loss. That was the way Sua thought. However now, he had reached a point where everyday felt like a loss. Since there were no more regulations or rules, travelling was the thing most people turned to. That was where Sua was now. Since childhood he had kept a journal. On the very first page was a list of places he had always wished to go to. A list he made just to satisfy the longing hopefulness within his teenage self. Never once did he think the opportunity to go to any of them, would present itself. All of the places were within the uk, scattered on the outskirts. The city life had never been for Sua. Everything about it just screamed that it wasn’t for him. Sua had always kept to himself. He was social, but only enough to get by. Inside, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Maybe that’s why the only place he ever envisioned himself living in was the countryside. Some land in the middle of a field, a small cottage style house, surrounded by nature. That was all, and he was so close to reaching it! The only hurdle between him and the first stop on his list was this broken road. Even at the sight of the rubble, his hope stood alive. The way he saw it, roads held such positive connotations.
By Maariya5 years ago in Fiction
The Second American Civil War
Fires everywhere, gunshots in the background. Everything has gone to shit. No matter where you look, everything is just a remnant of its former self. How did we get here? What went wrong? How am I still alive? I want to say it started in 2020, but that would be wrong. That was just where it became its most prominent. Well, it used to be anyway.
By Jeremiah Ellison5 years ago in Fiction
The history of the Aftermath
If you've found a calendar you would assume it would be winter, but you would be wrong. The heat was visible with your eyes. It was dangerous for anyone to walk out with too much clothing on, and it was suicidal to go off somewhere alone without an ounce of water at your assistant. There were blessings in the night, where it was possible to feel a slight shiver throughout your body and where you could find amazing images painted throughout the night sky. Sadly, the nights were fast. There is a quote that gets passed around from town to town.
By Thani Gema5 years ago in Fiction
The 9th Minute
Every so often I would see the bird fly into view over the tops of the trees before it would disappear. I kept tracking it in the same direction, over rocky terrain which only served to provide cover and safety as I hiked through the mountainous area.
By SierraCArnold5 years ago in Fiction
The Burden of her Birthright
Hatima sat in a wooden rocking chair under the make-shift window at the farthest corner of her room. The hole she carved in her dirt wall allowed small beams of moonlight to stream in and streak across her floor. She wanted to remember every detail of this moment— the rustling of the leaves as they twisted and turned in the gentle, autumn breeze, the roar of the evening fires, the concert the crickets were playing just for her—as this could possibly be her last night in the village. Hatima closed her eyes, focusing desperately on the sounds that surrounded her, allowing her racing mind to slow just long enough for her to fall asleep.
By Bree Alexander (she/her)5 years ago in Fiction
Total apocalypse of the heart
Nobody has heard from those who live in the sky for a thousand years. For centuries, they spoke and spoke. We listened. Now it’s time for us to go pay them a visit.
By Fouad Khan5 years ago in Fiction
What Once Was
Lush greenery enveloped the room, vines wrapped around the window frames as a gentle breeze brushed Meghan's hair to the side. The warm sun shined down onto moss which had replaced what once was a glossy hardwood floor; a scene Meghan was far too familiar with. A deep sigh was followed by several steps towards the windowsill, where a chaise lounge chair was coincidentally positioned. Though its condition was rather poor, it was still the most comfortable seat in the room. The sofa may have been more so, if not for its current place halfway beneath the flooring. This house was once the residence of a family of four, a quaint household Meghan new before the event. Since then, however, the west face of the building had partially collapsed, resulting in a complete opening for the setting sun to grace the room with its evening glory. The sofa came with it, half-way at the very least. Thus, the lounge chair was the best option, and having reached this conclusion, Meghan sat down and positioned herself in a comfortable playing position.
By James Alley5 years ago in Fiction
An Escape
I was eighteen years old when it happened. Two point five million people worldwide...disappeared over night. Some called it a rapture. Others said it was alien abduction. Either way, the world would never be the same. Whether it was aliens, God or our government, the disappearances lead to unrest. Cities burned, riots overtook the streets. We couldn’t agree before Armageddon. We certainly weren’t going to agree now. Next to rebel was nature herself. Forest fires, earthquakes, you name it. Countries started blaming each other, which of course escalated to...nuclear war. Like Oedipus, we used everything in our power to avoid our doomed fate. Yet, those same means of prevention in turn sealed the very fate we tried to prevent.
By Jacob Viness 5 years ago in Fiction
Pretend to Breed
Listening over and over again to his voicemail. On it he grunts like the moment before he comes. He would say, when he wanted her to sneak out, do you want to pretend to breed? Cammie almost always breathed, yes even though he was officially Sondra’s boyfriend.
By Patty Tomsky5 years ago in Fiction
Grounded
Teleportation was a public relations nightmare for eight years before it entered mass production: ripped torsos, missing fingers, bodies remapped on top of each other. It’s a miracle that it ever caught on, but Oracle still stipulates that more Americans die in hovercar accidents each year than teleportation malfunctions.
By Meghan Cook5 years ago in Fiction