Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Drafted Soldier
As Charles made his way home from checking the track betting station his family had set up as a means of cash, he thought to himself “If I stay in this long enough, I can take over as the head of the family and really start to grow the family business”. Charles’s family was from gypsy lineage in Northern Britain, which was not the kindest to those of his culture. His mother and father had died when he was quite young leaving himself and his two brothers in the care of their aunt June. Aunt June took care of them as if they were her own because her own son and daughter had been taken from her when they were quite young. She had been accused of being incapable of taking care of her children because she was a gypsy.
By Aidan Schultz5 years ago in Fiction
Time and Time Again
It wasn’t unexpected. In fact, it was something she had known would come along, eventually. Not a desire; more of a fear. She’d made many attempts to delay, postpone, or even stop it, knowing as she did so that it wouldn’t work. His mind was set on self-destruction. He invited trouble every chance he got; dwelling on the past until it ate him alive.
By Siobhan M Johnson 5 years ago in Fiction
Algorithmic Division
Kelly put her device face down on the beaten and frayed barista table. The table wavered on its bent legs. One leg had been propped up by a piece of broken plaster, placed in order to maintain some semblance of a level surface as it tried to perform its supportive role just a little longer. The small table, like the rest of the dingy establishment, and the few people in it, were survivors of the never ending civil war that had become so common place in the world now.
By Ryan Richardson5 years ago in Fiction
Journal and locket
Dear journal, It is the twenty third of august which marks my fifth year in this backwards town. Next month this time is what the town thinks is my twenty first birthday. Oh, if only they knew that “Paul” was three years older than they think they would not be congratulating me on my reaching adulthood quite so much. Sadly since Dr. carver passed from a stroke these two years past I have been fulfilling his duties to the town. The difference shows though. I know nothing about the plants in the wilds of this forgotten colony and as such am unable to replenish our dwindling medicines. How a man of Dr. Carver’s caliber ended up in this god forsaken pirate run town I will never know. I do my best but I was always better with the animals rather than working with the people. Last night Peter Sr. our main wheat farmer passed from a severe heart attack. While I was able to arrive in time to perform cpr I was not able to do more than delay the inevitable. Then as I write this I am also preparing to attempt to run back into the wilderness that took my parents all those years ago. Sadly I do not expect to survive I give myself 5 to 1 odds of surviving the week. But those odds are better than those ill have in town once Simon, the drunken snitch, delivers what he found in my home to the pirate captain. Most of the adult women bear the marks of Caliste’s attentions. She as grown bored of her last captive and I’m sure when she finds I have been hiding under the assumed identity of a boy she will want to address it immediately. The sadistic bitch may even do her work publicly as an example. My preparations are done and as I expect this to be my last entry I will go ahead and leave this to be found by the pirates. Little more than thumbing my nose yet an act of defiance is an act of defiance.
By John T Ervin5 years ago in Fiction
HIGHRISE SKYLINE
The battered motor struggled to carry a rusted boat and its passenger over the outskirts of what used to be Fort Lauderdale, a concrete swamp abandoned by the corporate conglomerate that once governed it after pushing the federal government out of the southeastern states, the US losing around half their now perpetually contested land in identical fashion. The rest of south and central Florida generally suffered a similar fate as the Atlantic Ocean continued to devour the state, driving away corporate interest. Still, first counts for something, capable of withstanding the cloud of toxic spores engulfing the dilapidated ruins, mutated alligators densely populate nearly every block. The traveler locks his gaze on 4 solar-powered air boats buzzing north into the decrepit city, each carrying a duo of Riptide reclamation officers, every one of them equipped appropriately, breathable Nanokevlar armor leading up to a lightweight, corporate-grade alloy filtration helmet, the dome outfitted with a heads up display detailing vitals and environmental info, everything marked with their signature tsunami logo. The traveler’s helmet was nearly opaque from condensation. He’ll be lucky to make it through without heat stroke. A functional A/C is typically standard in even the cheapest filtration units, popular after 2064 saw the climate’s true point of no return. Unfortunately, the edentate merchant in Orlando failed to supply or mention this basic component before charging full price and vanishing promptly.
By Chris Conway5 years ago in Fiction
Maren’s Treasure
Maren sat in the middle of the room, or what had been the family’s gathering room. Now, dust, plaster and remnants of upholstery and wood surrounded her as she sat on the floor, sifting through the debris, hoping to find a few items that she could keep as remembrances of her family. A few weeks, no, days before, her life was moving forward in an orderly routine. Familiar events, people and things were taken for granted, as they always are. Now, she was alone. How would it be possible to survive, to even live from day to day? She could find food and a place to sleep, but what about people? There must be others somewhere, but it was too soon to go out and search for them. Just now, even thought was difficult.
By Randi Babcock5 years ago in Fiction
The Death of Justice Part II
How Long are you going to blame the system? 8 Hours Before the release The next day they brought me to administration to undergo an exit interview with a prison social worker. Her name was Janice Robinson, and she was an African American. I was being granted Parole, so Mrs. Robinson had to confirm my plans for the pending release. Because of her position, I called her Mrs. Robinson, even though she was only slightly older than I was. Mrs. Robinson was tall and professional. Her mother was a court stenographer and had gotten her the job soon after she finished college. Mrs. Robinson started two years after my sentence started, and every opportunity I could get, I was coming to see her for something or another.
By Dr. Willie J. Keaton5 years ago in Fiction
The Biggening
Early on, there was some speculation as to what had caused The Shrink. Or the Biggening, as some of the folk had come to call it (who said so with the grin of someone trying desperately to be clever in the face of something horrifying). Some said it was an alien assault. Others declared it was a government experiment gone wrong. One group had decided it was God’s divine practical joke.
By Ethan J Bearden5 years ago in Fiction
High Visibility
It’s hard playing second fiddle to a genius brother; harder still when he wipes out half the planet. Nobody congratulated me on being sister to the boy who won the science award five years in a row, but now I’m diabolical because of his bright ideas. It almost seemed destined, somehow. He was the clever boy, and I’d be the pretty girl. It worked for a time until puberty hit me, and then I failed to hit the mark. Stretch marks, acne, braces, greasy hair, and worst of all, entirely mediocre grades. Next to him, the best I could hope for was invisibility. Still, he loved me. I’m not sure he ever understood how brilliant he was, to be honest. I hated him all the same. On a good day, I’d leave the house before anyone came down for breakfast. I’d make my way to the back of the classroom before anyone else filtered in. I’d sit in the bathroom to eat my lunch. If I was really lucky, I’d make it home before anyone else. I'd run straight up to my bedroom to set up my telescope in time for the blue-black unveiling of the great beyond.
By Ysiad Senyah5 years ago in Fiction
