Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Wrong Password
Have you ever driven over the ocean? It’ s something else. The two-lane skyway before us went on and on. When we left Huntington Beach the road was some sixty to seventy feet above the ocean as it departed the edge of the continent. Now, two hours into our four hour drive west over the great Pacific Ocean, we must have been over three-hundred feet above the rocking mass of water. Swells surged beneath us, waves collided into each other. We drove past billboard after billboard, advertisements in numbers that paralleled the norm we were used to. Every so often, large digital numbers flashed on them simultaneously, telling us how long until disaster struck.
By Stephen Franco5 years ago in Fiction
For The Price Of A Locket
It was a bright sunny day – there was no doubt about that. Not that anyone noticed or even cared to notice. Why would they when they were more concerned with surviving until their next meal and fighting like mad, often with nothing more than a splintered stick, for a spot to protect them as they catch a couple of hours of sleep? One day, people may come to realize that if a person is asleep, to let them sleep. Loot and inconvenience them yes, but not murder them, then carry on their merry way. Maybe one day they'll realize that sleep without fearing murder would greatly benefit even this country, where the criminally minded and the perverted outnumber the noble and good by a thousand to one.
By Aidan Mills5 years ago in Fiction
The White House by the Sea
What will become of the world, little one? How will we make and unmake things Until they are strange and new? * They lived in the white house on the outcrop by the sea. The wind was always blowing and the days were always a half-darkness of dense grey clouds, syltasi’va in the tongue of their grandmother. Always, the clouds.
By Conor McCammon5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
The Locket by Inge Moore On his way to the kitchen to prepare an early lunch, Bruce Marks heard the first explosion from the mountain. For an instant, he’d thought it meant war. Then he realized what it must be—the same thing that had been happening all over the world. The reports and images of disasters—floods, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, tornados—had clogged the news for days. It had started in Japan with a tsunami. Next was Africa with a huge fire. England had been hit by tornados. South America by earthquakes. Now he guessed that it was their turn.
By Inge Moore5 years ago in Fiction
Return to The Manor
As I open my eyes I realize that something has gone terribly wrong. I am in complete darkness, instinctively I reach for my necklace but only feel the chill of my skin. My heart and mind begin to race where am I and what has happened. Every memory I try to draw upon as to why I have or how I have become trapped in this room is so hazy.
By Sandy Jabour5 years ago in Fiction
Legend of the Last Journal
This may be the last thing anyone ever hears from me. I heard their screams…. It was terrifying. My family, friends, neighbors… They’re all gone. Everyone became sick and what we thought was a cure, several years later, became the worst virus the world had ever seen.
By Aaron Hoskins5 years ago in Fiction
Henry's Rejection
The cafeteria at Miami River Middle School served decent food but I still brought my own lunch most days. Today, it was a basic ham and cheese sandwich with mayonnaise and spicy honey mustard. Sometimes I would add a tomato but we used them all for the salad last night. I also drank chocolate milk and had a green apple. The lunch room was always very crowded but it was a good time to be alone and reflect on things. I would eat lunch with Fred, but he had 3rd lunch.
By Steven Allen5 years ago in Fiction
Inheritance
The waning warmth of decades of prosperity soothed me in my bed as snowy winds howled outside our family estate. My father, the prime minister, had reclined beside me and was showing me an ornamental cavalry saber, an heirloom passed down from generations before. I marveled as I beheld the extraordinary sight before me, something more incredible than the antique weapon. My father rarely had time to leave his desk to visit his son; the demands of running a country was a greater responsibility than I thought I would ever be. He was unsure of himself in this fragile moment; a side of him I almost never saw.
By Rafeal Rankin5 years ago in Fiction
