Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
the tower
Finally. The Tower. A few hundred more feet, and I would be there. I had traveled hundreds-- no, thousands-- of miles for this moment. The end, whichever way it went, drew near, and the sharp taste of my own blood in my mouth made me hungry for success. My prize for this would be a simple one: today, I would earn my name.
By Tessa Mae Graves5 years ago in Fiction
Martial
For Pierre, the past 24 hours felt like a dream. Alicia, the woman he envisioned himself with finally confessed her everlasting love, but as her final words. Alicia's plane experienced mechanical malfunction on a flight transporting her to Queen City to confess those feelings in person. Helpless, Pierre dropped to his knees and clinched his hands, seeking with tears for his God to intervene.
By Byron Perry5 years ago in Fiction
Sandman
Sandy watched a fly banging into the window beside him, creating tiny gong music with its small stupid head. Do flies have heads? The whole body is sort of a head. How would one behead a fly? Fucker will give himself a concussion. Might see the real world, for once. Real as a fly sees it. Mosaic of ommatidia.
By Gerard Robertson5 years ago in Fiction
Journal of a Frost Survivor
September 17th, 2038 Today, we should be arriving home. I’ve been away too long, but summer storms and strange weather has kept my ship on the other side of the world. After two years at sea, I have made a name for myself and no one doubts my abilities as captain anymore. I know at first, people questioned whether a woman would be able to handle the rigors of leading a group of men on a ship but after the sun flares which wiped out technology nearly ten years ago, there was no work for me in our small village on the coast. I had always been drawn to travel so together with my father, a former engineer, we built my ship, La Lorena, and I hired a group of local men to set sail for goods across the water. Now I’m returning, successful and hoping my family will be proud.
By Kelly Mendoza5 years ago in Fiction
The Silent
The Silent It’s early morning but the sun is still dead. The sombre clouds float over the town of Mortville, the streetlamps making the fog dance across the stone walls of the buildings. I pull my coat tighter around me as if to shield myself from Cold’s claws that slice through my gloves and knit scarf.
By N. S. Paldino5 years ago in Fiction
Forever?
Adam closed the door, blocking the late afternoon sun and snooping robots. The study his only refuge in a world of constant surveillance. A scale model of the photon plant he managed for fifty years sat on a desk in the middle of the room. His latest project to combat the boredom of semi-retirement.
By Michael Grigg5 years ago in Fiction
The well
It was an eerie night, the well stood tall and proud. The Bennard family were eager to move into their home away from the chaos and even the loud city noise. Wendy, with her rosy skin and diamond blue eyes. She was the reason why the Bennard's were moving so far from the city. She was just a baby and their lives will become more peaceful. Sylvia was an architect, she was Wendy's mother and she was a good mother as well. Sylvia had designed the house and she even designed the basic yet wonderful well. The well was made out of smooth stone. Vines grew on the outside of the well so beautiful and strong. These vines were vivaciously green. The vines were thick and strong that anyone can climb them to see the well from the inside or enjoy the mountain view.
By Cecilia Gonzalez 5 years ago in Fiction
Woven
The day the world tipped out of balance, no one noticed. The sky didn’t come crashing down, and it wasn’t accompanied by hurricanes and lightning storms and earthquakes. It happened more subtly, first manifesting itself in small things like an unusual amount of people losing their luggage on flights from Toronto. Things like terrible traffic in Tokyo and skyrocketing unemployment rates in Sao Paulo and a record number of cases of chickenpox, of all things, in New York City. Disaster fell like snowfall — what at first seemed inconsequential soon became threatening. And by the time anyone noticed how much had accumulated, it was far too late. Too late to stop the momentum of the darkness, the descriptor humans used for the terrible force before they knew it by its true name: aedion.
By Andrea Lindsey5 years ago in Fiction
What Is Hers
It had become hard to hold her hand, the colder her skin became. My mother, the very woman that breathed life into me, was coming face to face with death. The hard, wooden floor creaked beneath her weight as she writhed and flailed, her body hopeless in it’s final efforts to free itself from the pain. Her movements were jerky and unpredictable. Her legs twisted and her back arched. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth each time her lips parted to give way to a harrowing gurgle. My attempts at comfort were futile, but still, I brushed my free hand across her forehead, gently shushing, not unlike one would hush a crying baby.
By Madelyn Boughter5 years ago in Fiction
Appoca-probs
Is it not strange how beautiful something terrible can be? Levi could not help seeing the beauty in it all as he sprawled out on a lounger perched upon the edge of a roof. For those who think nobody could relax in times like these, they had never met Levi. So relaxed was he that, if it was not for the rumble of the Earth shaking his sunglasses down his nose, he would have drifted to sleep. Instead his eyes drifted over the cracked uneven ground, the sun slowly roasting his skin. It felt Impossible how quickly everything had changed.
By Richard Farmery5 years ago in Fiction
