Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Fiction.

Hearts of a Phoenix
The sound of chickens clucking away were the first sounds that woke me. The sunlight streaming in through the open window kept me awake, tossing and turning to get back to the sweet realm of dreams. My body aching from the past few days of non-stop trudging, through the muddy plains from the Ruined Lands to my quaint little village.
By Simon Prout5 years ago in Fiction
He Went to Jared
When the world ended, it didn’t end in some showy apocalypse. There were no aliens, no catastrophic climate events, no global nuclear wars. No, the world ended because of a birthday gift.
By Donna Thiel Cook5 years ago in Fiction
Desolate
Silhouetted by the sun sinking below the horizon a figure stood atop a rise on I 84, few cars were abandoned on this stretch of the highway leaving the shadow of the figure to stretch far into the distance. Replacing her canteen, Ivy shrugged her backpack into a better position and continued on. The worn map she carried in her vest indicated a town was not far from where she estimated she was. Lost in thought as she spent much of her days, she once again ruminated about how she found herself here. Despite years of warnings. As the planet grew warmer. Drought led to desertification which led to relocation of millions. Competition for resources led to hoarding, and the building of fortified shelters. Predictably war broke amongst the allied countries of the world and yet another warning was not heeded. The deployment of nuclear options destroyed the precious resources they were meant to win. Now the scattered remains of humanity searched for bunkers and hoards in order to prolong survival. The silence from the woods to her right a grim declaration of the culmination of humanity. No birds sang no animals skipped from tree to tree the dead unearthly silence of nature a grim declaration of the folly of man.
By Joe Dupre5 years ago in Fiction
Please, Boy. Stay.
till alive in a world like this. He carried a serrated knife disproportionate to the rest of his body. She imagined if he swung it he would fall with it. She stared at him in awe. Was he a hallucination? Was the putrid stench of the surrounding Creeps finally getting to her? His eyes jumped from Creep to Creep, taking in their ugliness. His eyes caught hers and he lit up. He raised a hand and started waving frantically at her. She froze in place. What the hell is this kid thinking?!? One rustle of his sweater and these beasts are all over him. A Creep bumped its boney structure up against her coat and she started moving again. She looked away from the boy for a second to regain her feet and not alarm the hoard.
By Brooke Musgrave5 years ago in Fiction
Red Day
The air seemed to smell different today. There was a sweeter scent in the breeze- more than usual, Katlaya noticed. The sky also seemed to be casting a darker shadow than it usually did. She couldn’t tell if it had always looked like this, or if maybe she was just starting to get paranoid. Decidedly, she made a mental note to ask Harban when she got home if he noticed it today too. They knew a day was coming when this was to be expected, but they were never given the exact date or time- just a general idea of the era in which the Elders of the Council told them to prepare for. According to their estimates, it would be somewhere between her 35th-90th year. She was only 17 now, but that day, and everything that would happen when it came, always lingered in the back of everyone’s mind- even her old neighbor Lionul, who was 95 years old, and had no chance of surviving it or seeing it. He would be replaced by the time it came around. Unless of course, it came earlier than the Elders predicted. Which, to Katlaya, was definitely a possibility. Secretly, and only to herself, she often wondered if the Council really knew anything, or if they were just spouting nonsense to keep them all in some sort of limbo. She tried to never really spend any time thinking about that day which was to come, (which the Elders deemed, ‘Resurrection Day,’ but to everyone else just “Red Day,” though they never referred to it as that in front of them.)
By Isabella5 years ago in Fiction
The Harvard Compendium
The Harvard Compendium The Arrival “Temperature at 110 degrees Celsius. Looks like the waters are rising at 3cm an hour.”
By Alice Donenfeld-Vernoux5 years ago in Fiction
Threads of Sanity
"Alright, Selah, why don't you come give this one a try?" Mrs. Hanson invited me up to the Smartboard, where she'd written the first Geometry problem of Lunch&Learn.
By Asan5 years ago in Fiction
Heirloom
I was growing tiresome, but aside from there being a few hours of daylight left, this forest was full of bare snags that didn't provide much cover, and R.I.S.E. was not known for giving up on a hunt. About a mile to the East of here, there is a creek that still flows through this once-thriving forest. As tempting as it is to set up camp closer to the creek, I am certain that is exactly where they will be looking for me. My best chance at surviving through the night is staying to the West and hoping to find some cover before nightfall.
By Joshua Olivio5 years ago in Fiction
Television
My grandad used to tell me about color television. He'd meander off in his thinking, I’d wait for him, he would mumble a little more of this and that, then clear as a bell he would say he could actually close his eyes and see “IT”.
By Owen Taylor5 years ago in Fiction
E-78
"164 days." I whispered. 164 days since I woke up and everyone on E-78 disappeared. 164 days. Alone. My hand instinctively reached for the switch beside me. The dim light above me flickered before steadying and filling the room with a pale yellow. I sat up and glanced at the thermometer. 89°. This will be the hottest day so far.
By Heather Allison5 years ago in Fiction
Rusted Heart
Agnes was the first to see it, but we all ran towards it anyways as if we could beat her there. We were cleaning up an atrium when a sharp sparkle caught her eye. Having spent five days cleaning this area, we were used to seeing sparkles that were merely the remnants of dust floating through the sun-soaked space. After Agnes got closer to investigate the source of the light, we all circled around like it was time for lunch and Agnes was our food distributer. From what I could see, it was an odd shape. I did not have a name for it, since I had never even seen a book. Frank to my right said it was very dirty. His sister Frances conjectured that “it looks like a type of metal, but why is it so small?” Everything any of us had ever seen that was metal, was quite large. Things like cranes, wrecking-balls, and other demolition machines.
By Melissa Gilbert5 years ago in Fiction
Mimorian
Eyes are the window to the soul. I often thought that saying was bullshit but as I stared at the hazel eyes of the boy on the piece of paper in my hands, I could tell what his life was like without even reading over his file. Or maybe, it was just because I was used to it now.
By Sophie Mahk5 years ago in Fiction