Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

Phase One: Resist
Phase one: Welcome to the Resistance: I used to have a very REGULAR life. I went to school, I played sports, I hung with friends, and I constantly argued with my father. No school, no sports, barely anything resembling friends. Phase one is the most rancid, trashy, thing my father ever did to me. I always felt it must be so nice to have lived so much life and had so many experiences that you now know what is best for EVERYONE. That is definitely what my dad thought, that is why he made me go on this trash journey of phase one with him.
By Elijah Davis5 years ago in Fiction
Deadly Dusk
As he opened his eyes, all he could think about was the intense ringing that pierced his inner ear. Trying to catch his bearings, he slowly looked up to see the cloth ceiling of the car that he lay in. Suddenly he realized that he was upside down, and it all came back to him; the spikes in the street, the screeching of the tires, the thud of his head bashing the steering wheel... he was stuck. The ringing started to dissipate, and he began to hear something much more sinister: the haunting moans and violent clanging of the zombies hitting the windows. He now knew the situation he was in, and began plotting his escape. He searched his person for any weapons that he could use and felt the cold steel of his 44 magnum pistol which was holstered on his left side.
By Zackery Hansen5 years ago in Fiction
The Letter
Dear Children, We live, we die, and the world continues to change with or without us. In 2135 forty years after the wreckage of dolphin pox, poverty hadn’t improved and barely one thousand people survived. The rebuild of humanity involved a reliance on accessories. Everyone needed five pieces in order to function. Earrings for hearing, a hand bracelet for touching, a heart shaped locket for speaking, an ankle bracelet for moving and a nose ring for seeing. Of the survivors some became creatures of the terrain “soil mongers”. Beast that catered to destruction and lived in the ground only to kill anyone who left Akala. People who couldn’t afford accessories lived miserably in one section of Akala and once they lost all senses, they were sacrificed to the soil mongers. Everyone believed no one could live outside of Akala.
By Maunalokelani Kirkwood5 years ago in Fiction
Heart Rack
A humanoid silhouette patiently steps around debris and garbage in the dim gray world of the city. The light of the late afternoon sun barely filters through the small holes of the thick dark clouds above. The hooded figure pauses and turns to check the road behind, watching the thin rays of light play across the broken bases of structures that had once towered out of sight. The figure makes little sound as it changes it's course, moving down an alley. The darkness envelopes the figure entirely and there are only quiet footsteps. No sound of stumbling.
By Ben Luten5 years ago in Fiction
The Doctor's Paradox
Before the hospital’s staff could administer anaesthetic to the screaming patient they had to confirm his contract would cover the cost, so when the doctor entered the room the patient had only been strapped down to the table in order to stifle his thrashing. The straps dug into his papery skin, blood oozing from his ripped flesh.
By Littlewit Philips5 years ago in Fiction
The Map of the Lost
There was a lone figure standing on the roof top of a decrepit building. It was the only one in sight. The entire world looked grey, filled with dust and ash. The rubble from the other skyscrapers stretched as far as the eye could see, at least, hers. Desiree, at least that's what she thought her name was, looked out at all the destruction and felt very alone.
By Karina Ruiz5 years ago in Fiction
The Little Girl Who Lives Here
A woman stood naked at the top of the stairs screaming. The woman screamed at the stairwell, screamed down the shadowed walls, screamed down the hallway. Her eyes spinning, the woman saw the little girl standing at the door to her bedroom.
By Emily Hanchett5 years ago in Fiction
HUNGRY
Every great event has a start date. I was thinking about this as Romie and I rummaged through the maggot- ridden garage bins for something to eat. We hadn't eaten in days, and my blurred vision is a witness to that. I can stand going for a few days without sleep, even a day or two with very little to drink--in the way of liquor, that is. I got to have water, regularly--but food, when a man is deprived of something to eat, well, that's when his animal instincts take over, and you might go hunting for anything--even another person, if need be, to eat. Some people we’ve come across have rare taste for various things. One guy and his family we met was traveling on the off roads going from farm to farm. They’re looking for horses and other farm animals. Thankfully, they hadn’t allowed themselves to go for humans yet. But I’ve been tempted. Mind you, I’ve been hungry from day one. I've come close to it--to eating Romie. She's looked mighty yummy to me at times over the past few months and weeks since the world shut down. But no, I couldn't eat her, she's my best pal--right?
By Jyme Pride5 years ago in Fiction
Hawaii Style Doomsday
“There have been three worlds, the before-fore, the fall-out, and now the world we live in, the age of The Criptors,” Uncle Kahanamoku said in a low deep voice, Day-Day remembered the way the fire, dug into the sand below, lit up Uncle’s face, giving it an orange glow.
By Katie Mack5 years ago in Fiction
World War J
My name is James Luke Watson. Born in Oxford on 3rd March 2029. Son of the late Jimmy and Joanne Watson. I have one brother, Joseph. I am unaware of his exact location and status, but I am certain he is safe. If I could make it this far without them setting upon me then, without doubt, he would have made it as well. Probably faster too.
By Philip Krafft5 years ago in Fiction
Mince Meat Pies
Mince Meat Pies Have you ever wondered why there is no meat in a mince meat pie? Let me enlighten you. It was not always so.
By Cleve Taylor 5 years ago in Fiction
The Visitors
I remember the day they came. At first we were greeted with kindness, under the guise that they wanted to study our planet, learn our ways, become friends. We trusted them after time, and our planet was thriving as the visitors taught us their ways. I remember the day they brought their priests, teaching us new religions and “science”. Before that time, we lived in total harmony with our planet and our creator, who often visited us. But their kind words and smiles fooled us. We were led away from the love and care we held for our old ways. We gave it all up in order to become what they called “enlightened”. As they taught us, there were ones that dissented and questioned the visitors. They warned of what could come about with abandoning our creator and our reverence for the things made by her hand. At first we did not believe it; how could these visitors hurt us after years of cohabitation? Slowly, the warnings quieted, and as I look back now I am ashamed that we did not notice the slow but steady silencing of those speaking out. How could we have been so blind to not notice our own kind being brought down until there was no one left that questioned the visitors?
By Megan Strawderman5 years ago in Fiction