Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Locket
TABLE OF CONTENTS Lessons 1 Matters Of The Heart 2 THE LOCKET LESSONS The locket is a fictional story, based on, a daughter losing her mother, during a war. When josiah leaves for duty, he gives his daughter, a blue locket, passed down, four generations.
By Latoya Lawless5 years ago in Fiction
Anne's Diner
Anne's Diner, a lovely family-owned hole in the wall that hardly got enough credit for being a restaurant. Let alone the best damned place to get a home-made cinnamon roll made by Anne herself; a charming old woman that always greeted all of her customers with a smile on her face that furthered the deep wrinkles adorning the corners of her eyes. Vadim loved the diner, even as he sat in the tattered red-and-white booth, elbows on the table that had been dressed in shattered glass and tossed food. He was too clean for the space, garbed in a black suit and frameless glasses. His pale skin too clean, his ebon hair too groomed. His hands were folded as though he were deep in prayer, pressed against his furrowed brow. “What a damned mess,” he commented quietly to the gloom. The power had failed some time earlier in the week, leaving the place to smell of rot, old food, and gore.
By Oriaxel Knight5 years ago in Fiction
Desolate Salvation
This place is a wasteland, a world once thriving driven to destruction by a war no one thought they'd win. No matter where you look, everything is charred and dusty. What little remains of the architecture is dross, it's completely unrecognizable. The scene is vast and unchanging.
By Functional on a Whim5 years ago in Fiction
God, Men, and the Devil
“... Protests have ravaged the streets. Forty-five people have died from injuries sustained due to molotov cocktails, police brutality, and other protestors. With the president announcing a lockdown on the country due to COVID-19 and the implantations of chips to monitor citizens’ fevers, protestors are calling it the start of the New World Order. The BLM group, POW-MIA, and The Ninety-Nine Percent have been seen outside of the White House, ordering the president to step down because of his ‘abuse of power’. Sources say…”
By Mi-Ah Medina5 years ago in Fiction
The Trap
Nothing. Nothing was all Henry could see down the dismal road ahead of him. Well, nothing that mattered anymore at least. There were chunks of buildings scattered upon what would graciously be called a road, arranged haphazardly within what was once a bustling metropolis of commerce and avarice. His mind wandered back to before this nightmare started, "There was a world here once..." he mused internally to no one in particular. "Coffee houses and supermarkets, billboards about car insurance, and terrible fast food". Didn't seem so terrible now though. Henry presumed he would probably kill for a greasy burger right about now, not he'd seen anyone alive in over a month. The concerns of yesteryear repeated in his mind. "Eat a healthy diet so you can live a long life they said... Yeah, great advice", he muttered. The words purpose echoed hollow in his thoughts. Henry dropped his head, already tired of today and exhausted from hunger. "I'm talking to myself again aren't..." he trailed off in silence. Henry kept walking along the road until he saw a sign in his path, the name of the business long worn off he could still make out the classic image of a hamburger it once sold. His thoughts flicked back to his daughter from before the world ended. He smiled fondly thinking of their weekend trips to the greasy dive on 2nd street. He sighed and let the bittersweet memory play out in his mind, taking Jessica off to get her favorite meal on her birthday. She had just turned 12 that year. Henry closed his eyes as his thoughts drifted towards remembering what a burger tasted like. He could almost smell it again if he focused on it.
By Jennifer Diemer5 years ago in Fiction
Hashtag Dad Jokes
Pitch dark. Black. Empty. Aware only of his existence, Finian floated. Suspended in whatever this was or is or might be, he tried to speak, to yell even. Nothing. His attempts to do anything at all: yell, flail, see, hear - anything that might prove he was something more than this “nothingness” pervading his entire being - proved fruitless, save for a list of failures and falsified theories. It was as if he had ascended to a higher plane of existence, but was the only one who had discovered the process. He could think, but nothing else. So, he did the only thing that was allowed. He let his mind wander through its corridors, back alley ways, into rooms it did not even know it had and then, finally, it made the long trip back to the foyer. Finishing, Finian felt confident - perhaps for the first time since he had awakened - that this was going to be a very long eternity.
By Michael Neuman5 years ago in Fiction
The End
He held the tarnished heart shaped locket in his hand looking down at it with blurred vision from the sweat rolling off of his forehead and the tears welling up in his eyes. He could hear the screams coming from her like it was just a moment ago that he lost his beloved. Some days he wasn't sure how or why he kept going but he did. That locket kept him going. The hope that he could see her again. It was a quiet night. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and his heavy disembodied breaths as he tried to gather his thoughts. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
By Melynn Marie 5 years ago in Fiction
The birthday present
Then When I was a teenager I was a wannabe Goth. I used to regularly frequent an old warehouse that had been turned into an indoor market for people with alternative tastes. There was a shop selling Dr Marten boots, a tattooist and piercer, a shop that sold glow in the dark neon club wear that I was too young and too vanilla to actually wear. Upstairs there was a cafe that specialised in amazing vegetarian and vegan food before being vegan was really a thing. I used to go in with my school friends who would humour my alternative leanings whilst harbouring obsessions with boy bands and high street fashion. And we would order vegetarian quiche or jacket potatoes accompanied by up to three different salads - brightly coloured grains and vegetables. I felt the height of alternative sophistication with my fake nose ring and my badly applied eyeliner.
By Rachel Jones-Wild5 years ago in Fiction
Summer Breeze
Chapter 1 “How will my heart continue?” thought Lara. It had been three years already and she was not anywhere near ready to face the world. She could still remember the past as if it were yesterday. They had packed up to go up to the cabins that Aunt Sussie had in North Dakota. Beautiful sunsets and cascades, woods everywhere and snow-capped mountains. It was Heaven on Earth! They had announced a storm on the radio, but nothing was going to prevent them from enjoying a week away from the static that had become their lives. They needed this and by God they were going to enjoy it.
By Eugenie M Jimenez5 years ago in Fiction
