Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Opituary
Two hundred and thirteen tries. I now stand at the edge of the pit, elated to have escaped after being trapped for so long. The pit itself looks to be about twenty feet deep with stone walls. The winter air is cold, but it feels good after the brutal climb. I look towards the woods. I can go. Leave this place forever. Forget about it and move on, but I can’t. She’s still down there.
By Kyle J Grossman5 years ago in Fiction
Johnny Guitar
Life was a series of flashes. Joining the Avengers was one. Meeting Steve Rogers, my commander, was another. The life that grew from that, growing closer and closer. Moving through the snap living together, winning that final battle after the blip, the kiss on the battlefield.
By Autumn Rose5 years ago in Fiction
Radio Silence
The sun looked down over the scorched land. The golden eye of the beholder was on its final hour and prepared to give its watch over to the moon, who refused the patrol and let anarchy chaperon the night. The earth trembled with the vibration of feet put to dirt. A flurry of ill intent rising like a sand storm set to engulf those in its path. The time for finding safety was running short. Homes scorched, turning civilized people back to primal instinct. Those still clinging to the idea the world could spin backward were on the brink of extinction.
By Standish Kinko5 years ago in Fiction
Burn it, Burn it all
Necessity is the mother of invention, or in this case the mother of ingenuity. I found a small bag of potting soil, and an old broken box spring. Added some leaves, plywood and boom a raised bed. Planted some honeydew melon seeds and couldn't wait for them to produce.
By Qa'id Ali Harris5 years ago in Fiction
What I Found in the Rubble
The meek have inherited the earth. When all the superpowers collapsed themselves there was no one left to deprive us of it. Although they didn't exactly leave a paradise; all the comforts of the modern age went with them. Some people blame the Americans. Others blame the Koreans and the Chinese. Others blame various countries of the Middle East, and still others blame Russia. It doesn't matter now; none of those countries exist anymore. As far as I know, there are no countries whatsoever anymore. The people at the controls might've discriminated, but nuclear fire was more indifferent: It took out everyone, and everything that was on the surface. There was no sign, no warning, no time to intentionally duck and cover. Only those of us who happened to be underground at the time survived the impact, but only a fraction weren't crushed by debris, inevitably starved, or succumbed to oxygen deprivation.
By Noelle Spaulding 5 years ago in Fiction
Only hope
All the trees were a blur of brown and green streams as they swept past us. My hands were darting out in front of me instinctively swatting away branches before they could make contact with my face. We were running for our lives through a forest we had never been to before. We had been trapped for so long after the world had gone to shit and most of the human race was dead. Trapped by people calling themselves The New Government. They where made up of soldiers and scientist conducting horrible experiments on any human left they could get their hands on. In order to “creat a new worl” The results of thier experiments, well lets say even hell would turn away these mutated abominations. The only way to not become another one of there sick creations was to escape at any cost.
By Deirdre Kaus 5 years ago in Fiction
The Body of Mr. Hainsworth
The car door swung open, slapping Lethe with the acrid stench of diesel and manure. Choking back the bile building in her throat, she lifted her head high and stepped out of the backseat, immediately sinking her heel into a half-inch of mud. Or at least she hoped it was mud.
By Meghan Watt5 years ago in Fiction
Bastion 4
Aguilar stands in the rain while his abuelita fumbles with her keys. She is trying to open the security gate that protects her store from nighttime bandits. Aguilar is nine, nearly ten, and short for his age. His flip-flops grow slimy under the torrent and the wetter his underwear becomes, the more it starts to itch. Then the sun emerges from behind the heavy clouds and the rain suddenly stops.
By Mack Devlin5 years ago in Fiction
Doomsday locket
A heart. He could never say, “I love you” but this locket he gave her was in the shape of a heart. She had come that close to being zipped into the forced unity of Russia and Japan. The zipper pulling up to her neck caught on the locket and gave it its heart shape.
By Alice Eckles5 years ago in Fiction
