Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Fear of Dragons
Once upon a time a young girl in a small village fell in love with a boy. It was a pure love, and a true love, and it thrilled her and scared her at the same time. It was giddy and new and made her feel special and important and valued. Over time the girl grew selfish, and vain, and proud and thought of herself more as a “princess,” and thought of the boy as less of a “prince.” As time went on she did and said mean, hurtful, spiteful things to the boy she loved most in an attempt to make herself feel powerful, and through her actions destroyed the love that she had once valued so.
By Michell Witt5 years ago in Fiction
Hope
I wish I had never opened it. But why would I not? How was I to know that something so beautiful was going to destroy everything I ever knew? I still remember the first time I opened it. I assumed it held a picture of a loved one. Instead I saw fire. I felt it burn my hands and I heard a scream that shook me to my core. I didn’t open it again for years. But it would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
By Haley Jensen5 years ago in Fiction
The Red Solo Cup
The red cup was there, in the frayed wire over the bridge. The bridge on main and 6th used to be filled with red cups, spelling out “I love dad” or “Anna will you go to prom with me”. Today, the solo red cup meant something quite different. I had to be careful, seeing it was one thing; acting on it brought dire consequences.
By Elizabeth Cripe5 years ago in Fiction
Unexpected Warmth
It’s cold. That’s all I can think of as I huddle against the metal wall of the dumpster in which I am hiding. I can hear the crackling of my fire in the barrel just outside the bin, warm enough to melt the snow in a perfect circle around it. I desperately want to stand next to it, to thaw out my fingers and my feet but above the sound of the fire burning through the little fuel I had, I can hear their voices.
By David McClendon5 years ago in Fiction
The Flame
In old times, there were men who, in their folly, sought immortality. But the gods are jealous, and their gifts are often twisted. The candle lights the eyes with a ghostly glow that accompanies the choking stench of incense. The thought is, the finer the quality of the incense, the more holy the place becomes. That one can smell the scent of the gods in the form of fragrance is, to worshippers of the modern age, only one example of one of those quaint superstitions of their ancestors. The flames roar, filling the room; filling her ears with the roaring of waves in long lost memories. This is the sound of endless waves lapping against the shores. The candle's flames glow like the sun, but in a hallucinatory intensity. It is as if she is the center of this fiery light. The man sits beside the woman, watching the streams of flame as they reach upward into a transcendent light. With no words, the man approaches the flame and stares into the display of hypnotic fire. The goddesses of old raved about their majesty and too many male gods were lost to the allure… or perhaps they were not lost at all, but subsumed, or even enslaved to the powers of the sun. In her hands, the woman holds a small heart-shaped locket, and the flames bring her an illusion of her reflection.
By Melissa Connolly5 years ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Heart
“Can’t believe my baby turns twenty today” Kaliope said to herself as she pulls out a heart shaped locket from her jewelry box. “Aunt Maggie would be so proud of her”. Kaliope stared at the locket while remembering the day her aunt Maggie first wore the locket. It was Maggie’s wedding day. Kaliope, still only a child, was part of the wedding. That was the last time Kaliope heard a prayer, a sermon… anything religious, for that matter. A few months after Maggie’s wedding the government set to eradicate all religions, as the government accuse believers of treason and interfering with social progress and international conflict. The government allowed anyone who disagreed with religion to imprison believers, and under certain circumstances even murder them. Without religious influence, the government became brutal and cruel in their treatment to other nations. Eventually those other nations adopted the same anti-religion approach to caught up with their brutal defense. The heartlessness of those that despised religion resulted in millions of deaths and destruction. The past forty years had not replaced what the world lost. Freedom of religion, privacy, safety.
By Maria Maitland5 years ago in Fiction
A Connecticut Yankee in a Utah Rodeo
“Anyone want to ride the bull?” My family and I all looked at our tour guide as if he had asked us if we’d like to go swimming with sharks. He had to be kidding. This had to be his go-to joke when guiding yuppie tourists from New England. A way to make fun of us because it was clear this was our first time riding horses, let alone a bull. But he was serious. “Anyone can join the rodeo, you just gotta sign up at the pavilion, sign a few waivers, and since it's a competition we’ll even pay you five dollars for partaking.” He licked sweat from his dirty blonde mustache and leered at me through his cheap sunglasses.
By James Goggin 5 years ago in Fiction
Cerie
Cerie found herself outside in the wastelands, terrified by what she had just done. She had taken that old move-around machine, the hoover sand traveler, and left the safety of the Cities, speeding across a desert of broken land, stripped of resources hundreds of years before. The move around was ancient. Her family had kept it in running condition for centuries, ever since the reckoning. Everyone in her family knew how to operate a move around. But none had ever driven it. Instead, they did this all because someone long ago said someone would need it someday.
By Sharon Irwin5 years ago in Fiction
Stupid Marriage. Stupid Bombs.
Life in a bunker can make a girl go crazy if she doesn't get ahead of it and stay busy. I never really bought into the whole preparedness craze that swept through the country in the years before the war. David was the one who insisted on pivoting our savings and discretionary budget into what he mirthfully called our "home beneath the loam", and since he brought in the money and supplied the dad jokes and typically asked for nothing in return I ended up not only humoring him on the endeavor, but also convincingly feigning interest when he got excited about the bunker planning and fell wallet first into the “prepping” subculture.
By Nicolas Sexton5 years ago in Fiction
The Antidote to Insanity
Carla found herself in a corner holding on tight to her children. As she slowly regained consciousness and became more aware of her whereabouts, flashes of what had happened came back to her. There were other survivors, looking just as confused as her. Suddenly the door flew wide open and someone came stumbling and crawling in. He slammed the door shut behind him and frantically looked for pieces to make it impossible for anyone to get in. Then there was frenzied banging on the other side and you could hear loud angry roars. Those who were closest to the door threw themselves at the door to prevent what was outside from coming inside. Eventually whatever was outside gave up and everyone inside relaxed.
By [email protected]5 years ago in Fiction
