Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Last Survivor
Mila ran to the pond facing her house and started to dig in the mud. It was wet, gooey, and had algae growing throughout the watery muck. Yet with her bare hands, no gloves on, she managed to dig a hole about 3 feet down and less than 1 foot across. It had to be here. She was sure of it.
By Carol Eliassen5 years ago in Fiction
Call me Snipet
“Call Me Snips” – David Smith Call me Snips. Everybody does. Well, everybody who’s with me in the workbox that is, the needles, the bobbins, the pins – so many pins – all dear friends. Being from North Queensland, some of my friends call me Snippo, the jokers. My beautiful and creative owner doesn’t call me anything particularly, but she does treat me with love and care. She gets extremely upset if anyone, including her children, start using me to cut bits of cardboard and plastic and food containers. I’m only for cutting the finest fabrics, silks, lace. She does have a habit of putting me down, and then patting the tops of her thighs as she looks around the room muttering, “Now, where did I put them?”
By Ruth Groundwater5 years ago in Fiction
No Ferry Today (Part 1)
“The bar was supposed to open at noon—where is Duncan?” Margo hadn’t gone back to the mainland the night before. The warm summer breezes had beckoned her throughout the workday until she decided to take a blanket down to the beach and sleep on the sand. Her friend Monique had joined her at the last minute; she had a house further inland on the little isle, but she, too, had been tempted by the breeze coming in off the ocean.
By Paula Shablo5 years ago in Fiction
It’s Members Only
They religiously practiced every day at the palace. The tall white walls of the studio climbed up as if they were to reach the sky. Really, the palace itself existed already, and love filled the room as the pointed toed ballerinas practiced the rituals, reaching beyond their limits with the world as their stage. From afar, they were recognized by some highlighted traits. Innately born with all the intrinsic features, they had the abilities to do magnificent things. They hone in their craft. And every night they dreamed about it, and every day, crystal clear, they tapped into the pursuit of their success.
By Alice K.S.5 years ago in Fiction
Venus
Venus: The Roman goddess of beauty and love; that was most certainly you. Venus. It was you, from the beginning. It is you, now. It will be you, forever. It was you right from the minute your soft, delicate hand so charmingly caressed my shoulder, when your hair (which smelt of fresh spring berries) flew back and there, your eyes met mine. How your eyes enlarged when you gave that soul destroying smile, and time as we knew it seemed to freeze. I noticed those crystal blue eyes gazing into my soul and I observed how the different shades of blue so beautifully blended as one. The look you gave was almost as pure as the ocean and I, was being taken with the tide. How does one possess so much power, that simply a look has you on your knees? It was then, though you were not mine, Venus, I was yours.
By Sophie Collins5 years ago in Fiction
Going Home
Going Home D. A. Ratliff I hadn’t planned on going there. Fate brought me to speak at a seminar in my home state, and the fact that I was only an hour’s drive from my old homestead gnawed at me. I tried to push it away, but the itch was there and needed attention.
By D. A. Ratliff5 years ago in Fiction
The Warning
Chimes tinkled gently in the breeze, and if you closed your eyes and listened, it might almost seem soothing, filling you with a longing for days long gone by. You might even remember idle summer days, playing outside in the fresh-scented grass or napping on the front porch with a cool glass of lemonade beside you, within easy reach.
By KL Marchowski5 years ago in Fiction
