Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
PHARMACY
I stood out in the distance looking out what I think is greenish blue tinge of paint left on the damaged houses on what’s left of the corner of McKenny Street. I had I known what was going to be of this rotting hole I would have left years ago but I kept waiting for him. There’s a creaking noise off the distance. I snap my head in the direction and see a few small pests run into the tall grass. I need supplies. I dart off onto the next street looking to see what’s left at a convenient store. There’s not much except a few cans of corn and expired food. Defeated I head to the pharmacy to see if there’s anything. I hear something in the distance. Is that a car? Fuck. I have learned to really dislike people over the last 10 years before the reaping, but after humans are evil. I don’t even consider myself human at times. I hear voices but they are distorted. Viordans?
By Jessica Velasquez5 years ago in Fiction
The Varnd Experience
The process should have been over in two minutes—but he didn’t stop screaming… Tynan didn’t believe me when I told him to hold it back, to pretend not to feel the pain, pretend your skin didn’t feel as if it were being peeled off of you, pretend not to hear the lies as they seeped deep into your soul, taking hold on the gentlest parts of you…
By Mycheille Norvell5 years ago in Fiction
Dust and Bones
Three bandits rode down the outskirts of an old, bombed out ghost town. The rumble of their combustion engines a symbol of their status and wealth. Petrol was a rare and precious resource and viewed as a rich mans commodity. Captain Richards wasn’t by any means a wealthy man, but he was inventive, adaptive and conditioned to life in the hard world.
By Riley Byrne5 years ago in Fiction
Mr Drake's Proposal
When the sky tore open and the pre-entry vapour clouds billowed out all pink and orange, it was like a psychedelic sunset. Olafur Olafursson assumed it was the end of times. How he prayed for the end of times. It had been thirteen long arduous years since his last conversation with a living human. If his faith had not forbidden the practice, he would have taken his own life long ago. Even when the alien craft descended into the frigid valley before him, Olafur believed it to be the work of his God. The hand of the mighty one had come to offer him salvation.
By Dean Bainbridge5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart-Shaped Locket
“552 years!” John Poe shouted. Tall, fiftyish, grey hair, John was a rare citizen sporting leathery skin browned from years under artificial suns in the caverns. “Hubert T. Gandy wasn’t always a saint. Embracing the corruption of his time, he became the first multi-trillionaire. Like Noah, God warned Gandy of His wrath at capitalist greed and of the consequential gnashing of teeth that would end the world. Gandy repented and expended his entire fortune to employ scientists and other experts to construct the Complex in secret. All citizens have memorized the inspiring story of Gandy and the words and melodies of the songs honoring his life and teachings. His benevolence blessed us until, at age 98, God took him home. On the first anniversary of his passing, Gandy was granted Sainthood by unanimous vote of the Committee of 52.
By Charles Belser5 years ago in Fiction
