Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Maelstrom
So hard to move. The weight of the chains that bind me crush my chest, pin me to the ground like a butterfly in its glass case. It’s dark here in my prison. I sense time passing as though it were a moment -the flash of winter freezing the earth around me, then Spring and the damp scent of fertile soil. Over and over, winter, summer, winter. How long? How long have I waited for them to remember me?
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
Journey From Head To Heart
# Worker_Arya was waiting in the queue to start her day. She was a ferry worker - her job was to transport Elites and other Workers in the Vestibule. The Vestibule was a long titanium cylindrical tower - the only structure surviving post-apocalypse. It was home to three human types - Elites, Workers and Scums. Core Machina - the mind bot running the Vestibule had programmed her destiny as a ferry worker when she was born. Just like it had programmed everything else - daily routines, emotions, thoughts, births and deaths. Core Machine also muted their senses so that they saw everything in shades of grey and had no sense of smell or taste.
By Anu Sundaram5 years ago in Fiction
Tiny Suns
They watched their world burn through the cockpit window of the ship that was supposed to save them. Nora stood with eyes the color of despair, her heart-shaped locket burning a scar into her palm. The ship’s metal hummed with the engines keeping them alive; the push and pull of sorrowed lungs breathed echoes that spoke nothing of the hellscape miles beneath them.
By Britney Paterson5 years ago in Fiction
Love in The Time of Post Apocalyptic Moulds
Author's preface: Below find the (almost) original version of the story published as (almost) intended with the artwork intact and in the correct position in the story. Apologies for the first version which omitted the arts for reasons partly of idiocy on the author's part, but mostly due to the poor functioning of Vocal's editor. He was too stupid and impatient to take the time to figure out how to include images in the body of the text and Vocal's editor still refuses to display the "+" sign needed to embed something no matter what I do. I have found if I type some text then highlight it then hit backspace (but not delete) it will appear about 50% of the time. I tried just copy pasting the images in but they were distorted badly. In the original they were smaller and positioned next to each other in grouping of four. Yet another frustrating limitation of Vocal's wonky editor. I mean come on? Resizing images? That is basic stuff. Gheesh. The text also still does not have the exact formatting of the original story as I cannot figure out how to center or change the spacing or even if it is possible. In any event. Enjoy!
By Everyday Junglist5 years ago in Fiction
On Near Shores
He hunches by the tide marker, a battered plastic meter stick secured to a boulder with chicken wire and mechanical-grade duct tape. He watches it for almost a full two minutes, the tide lapping gently against his toes, cold water leeching warmth from the soles of his feet. It confuses his findings somewhat- though he always measures at the same time of day, at the lowest ebb of the tide. The water has receded some two or three millimeters. It’s been receding steadily, the past few weeks. He stands straight, holds up three fingers to the figure sitting in the dingy off the opposite shore. Once he feels she’s seen him- it’s too far to be sure- he changes his three fingers to a thumbs-down, then holds his hand flat and wiggles it in what he assumes to be the universal symbol for somewhat. She appears to understand him, giving a double thumbs up in response.
By Rowen McCoy5 years ago in Fiction
Life after
The sound of sand being crushed beneath the tracks of what could barely be called a vehicle was all you could hear over the wind. You rode a modified engineless track bike, the only way you had left to move about what was left of the world. Across where the ocean once was.
By Rachel Haas5 years ago in Fiction
The Journey To Festival
The race was on! It was time for festival again! The rat-faced boy ran through the dark streets as fast as he could go. When the bright lights at the center of the city shone for all to see, and the thumping bass of the music could be heard throughout the streets, everyone knew it was time for festival.
By Blaine Bryant5 years ago in Fiction
A World of Ghosts
Patrick didn’t feel sad when his mother died. Instead, he felt numb as the coroners came to take her body away. They interviewed her ghost. She had died of natural causes in her sleep. Heart failure, sudden and unexpected. It would have been impossible for him to have gotten her to the Death Houses. That was where all the nearly-dead-but-not-yet-dead went to remain in cryosleep rather than becoming ghosts forever haunting a person, place or thing.
By Kelsey Reich5 years ago in Fiction
