Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Supremacy
In the one hundred and fifty-first year of humankind's existence under Protean rule on the planet Minerva, Boudica Becquerel spent her days performing her duties as one of the many hunters, gatherers, and trappers for her isolated community. This function was one accorded very great respect by the community, not simply by reason of its obvious necessity, but also because of the very great amount of risk that performing it necessarily entailed. Every single time anyone went out and about to collect sustenance for everyone, there existed the very significant possibility that they would never return; even worse, there existed some chance that the entire community might risk exposure as well. Boudica Becquerel and all others who accepted this role were fully aware of its potential dangers, and yet they took them on regardless.
By Alexander Grazier5 years ago in Fiction
the Others
The Others by Sophie Milord My pillow is a pile of soggy moss that lies on the carboard bed that I have constructed underneath a fallen streetlamp. A tarp strung over the post of the collapsed light is both my home and my shop. A sodden newspaper clipping, a handful of stale gummy bears and a cracked mason jar are all that I have to offer for sale today. Every half hour or so a group of robed entities scurries by without notice of my spread. I can’t help but notice their human like qualities and once again I am fooled into excitement. Six years, six months and six days since they’ve been here, haven’t seen but three humans since. Each of the humans I saw referred to these hominid resembling beings as ‘the Others.’ Eyes so blood shot you could barely see their pupils, yet their presence so familiar. If I were not to sleep for a few weeks you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart, so I must be beginning to fit in because I can’t recall the last time I slept through the night. The main defining difference they possess is their skin; lined with microscopic scales and 400˚ Fahrenheit to the touch blisters human skin. Almost a year ago is when the feud began to dwindle. After torching millions of homes with sleeping children, including my most magnificent Audrey, they seemed to find boredom in their destruction and no longer pay us any mind. Audrey used to love our small-town fair; her favorite event being the ring toss. All of the lights and sirens went off in the tent as she through the winning ring and won a cheap silver painted locket. She didn’t take the damn thing off for months. The locket now lives in my shoe along with my other priceless possessions.
By Sophie Milord5 years ago in Fiction
Alpha Diety
It started with a war. The almighty Diety’s of the world had assembled together for a congregation. They all came to a conclusion that humanity had reached its peak in evolution and could go no further. With that they decided to assemble an extinction.
By Chani Tweedale5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
The heart-shaped locket was badly tarnished. She pushed until the door of the small, wooden chest was wide enough to fit her hand through. She managed to touch the locket with the tips of her fingers and drag it towards the opening until she could finally grab it. It appeared that her uncle had hidden it many years ago. She took out an old handkerchief and wiped the locket until the loose grime was gone, but several dark spots remained. She frowned, spit on the cloth, and continued to try and rub away the stains until they were nearly gone. Finally, her effort paid off. Except for a couple of very tiny faded spots, the locket now looked almost brand new. The gold color was like rich amber that glistened in the morning sun that crept through the tattered drapes which hung over the window. She turned the locket in her hand to examine the inscription on the back. She moved it closer to her face and squinted her eyes, but the words were too small to read. She remembered the magnifying glass that her uncle kept in the desk in his study. Years of scholarly work had damaged his eyesight, and he had come to depend on the eye glass in the last few years of his life. The desk was covered with old papers and books. The strong, musty smell of old wood and papers erupted from the drawer as she carefully opened it. She recognized her uncle’s faded handwriting on the old notes that lay scattered inside. At last she felt the small, wooden handle and knew she had found the eye glass. She pulled it from the drawer and looked at it for a moment and smiled. She recalled her uncle’s playful nature, and how he had tried to make light of his fading eyesight by naming the eye glass, “Clarence.” She ran her fingers over the handle where parts of the wood had been rubbed off. The only damage she could see was a tiny crack at the bottom of the glass, but other than that, it appeared to be in good condition. She took out the handkerchief again and wiped off a thin layer of dust that covered the glass. As she walked out the door of the study, she turned back and paused. She recalled the many nights she had spent there as a child, as she listened to the fascinating stories of her uncle’s travels around the world when he was a young scholar pursuing his studies of ancient civilizations. She wiped a tear from her cheek and slowly closed the door on the beloved memories behind her.
By Tisha Leigh5 years ago in Fiction
Forbidden Treasure
“I swear this is the last time I'll ever do this!” This is something I always tell myself, but I already know that is a lie. I really need the money and jobs are becoming less available as time goes by, with businesses slowly building up, hunters are starting to work for other people to earn their money as opposed to how they used to. Where is the sense of adventure?! In the distance I see the city I call home, that is the only place in this world I would even consider safe, regardless of all the thieves or scammers running amok in the streets for goods to steal and sell themselves. I walked through the shop center with the sack on my shoulder, ignoring the sound of people speaking to the merchants selling expensive supplies that they could find simply from the horizon in a mile radius.
By Kia Oquinn5 years ago in Fiction
Lost Locket in a Dystopian Future
The gas and dust debris are starting to settle. We’re aren’t prepared for what this new world looks like. There had been a war that caused a nuclear fallout but if that wasn’t enough there was asteroids falling from the skies when the war was just about over. It caused it to amplify the effects of the nuclear war zones causing more explosions and hazardous waste to fall.
By Ariel Rini5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
He knew that the new world was dangerous. He knew that he was never going to live a full life in a world so devoid of life. He knew that he shouldn't be doing something so pointless....but he couldn't help himself. He had wanted to bring some happiness into the darkness of the new world. He had thought that he could sneak off into the city and find something small to bring back with him. Something that was small and easy to keep with you while you were constantly on the move. Something that you could look down at and smile at from time to time. He had found the perfect something but now he lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, and unable to move. He knew that he didn't have much longer in this world.
By Kirstie Balint5 years ago in Fiction
Fading Away
May 20th, 20xx Today was different from my normal routine of working, eating, and sleeping. It all started when I bumped into this old man who look like his last 20 years had been filled with such hardship. honestly, I thought he had planned rob me at first. He just shoved a heart-shaped locket into my hands and said in a low scratchy voice, "Destroy the locket and save us all. It is not a disease, but a curse that will destroy the world."
By Sally Willoughby5 years ago in Fiction
Water Is Life
Water Is Life by Joan Medina © 6/29/2021 In the time of pandemic everything became clear. A puzzling array of circumstance rearranged itself into organized chapters within my mind. And once this dawning rose upon the horizon of my thoughts, it became easier to sort through the shadows of memory and recall events previously lost.
By Joan Medina5 years ago in Fiction
