Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Word I Carry
I am the last of my language. The child I led through the wild snows has just died. She was not mine, but when her family perished, I felt obliged to cover her in my own furs. I was happy to do it. Sofe was old enough to ask questions. With no other adult left to talk to, her barrage of whys sustained my sanity. Now even that is gone. I can move faster without the weight of her insistence on being carried, but I'd rather have two of her on my back than the empty howl of the tundra as my only companion.
By Saralyn Caine5 years ago in Fiction
No More Ringing
Ananas slowly trudged into her extravagant Haussmannian apartment in the 8th arrondissement in Paris. As she anxiously took off her muddy light-up Minnie Mouse sneakers, she noticed just how high the smooth ceilings were. She wondered if she would ever be tall enough to lick them. They would taste like cheese, she decided. Maybe camembert, maybe gouda. At only five years old, she often impressed her family’s friends with her extensive knowledge of Foods For The Rich.
By Nelly Zerbib5 years ago in Fiction
Grandma's Heart
The heart is scratched. I stare at the forbidden jewelry nestled within my salty palm. Scooped from the ocean. Rescued, even. Moonlight glints off the golden heart-shaped locket in tiny shards that hold my gaze captive, even as the waves rush the beach, the rhythmic crashing urging me to hurry. Hurry.
By Jessica Nelson 5 years ago in Fiction
Banishment
He cried. He cried and cried and cried until he woke up, not realizing he’d cried himself to sleep. He opened his eyes and was met with confusion followed by understanding and sorrow. She was gone. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again, but he knew how slim the chances were. She’d been banished. Kicked out of the safety of the walls and thrown into the Forbidden Lands, where she wasn’t likely to last a day. At least it hadn’t rained last night. Eventually, he rose, rubbing crust from his eyes with his forearm, and dragging himself from his bed and out of his small house, which was being held together by scraps of metal, wood, plastic, and whatever else he could get his hands on. He didn’t care that he still wore his worn and torn nightgown or that his blonde hair lay matted wildly on his head. He went to use an outhouse near a huge wall reinforced by layers of wood, bricks, etc. Eventually, he returned home to lay back on his bed, facing the ceiling and staring. He thought about how what was happening was his fault, and how the love of his life and his unborn child were alone and in danger. He started contemplating ways to escape the walls surrounding him, starting to feel more and more trapped by the second, as though the walls were closing around him and he was growing at twice their speed. He sat up, realizing how heavy each breath came. He looked toward his door, longing for fresh air, but dreading moving. He lay on his side and stared into space, when he heard a voice from within his home.
By Da’mon-Ahsy Eugene Thompson5 years ago in Fiction
Call that Karma
Some call it fate, I call it karma. Las Vegas is literally a beach town while Cape Town is the new Atlantis. I’ve heard stories about a place called San Francisco but only in fairytales and urban legends. There’s underwater tours for the ultra wealthy but I would never do it even if I had the money. Not saying I knew there was something down there, I didn’t. I don’t think anyone knew or could’ve ever guessed. Especially not all those rich people, they’re dumb as rocks for thinking their money still matters when humankind is on the verge of collapse.
By Sofia Dolores5 years ago in Fiction
