Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 3 - Pt 1 (WHILE PARTNERS WON AND PARTNERS LOST...) i They ran through wide hallways hung with tapestries and paintings; cliched suits of armour seemed to lurk around every corner—every nook and cranny—with armaments, breastplates, and coats of arms hanging between the murals, paintings and tapestries. It made it easier with the hallway lit up by the new electric fixtures; they helped reveal the dirt and grime of the last century though, where cobwebs gathered in dark corners in parliamentary numbers. The hallways were panelled in Norwegian pine, for no other reason she supposed, than her grandsire admiring the colour.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Museum Musings
“You really don’t mind that our first date is at your workplace?” I ask hesitantly as my date unlocks and opens the doors. His name is Henry. Average in height, he looks presentable in a well-worn suit and is the curator of the local museum, which I suggested be our first date before I knew of his job here. He responds as he indicates that I walk in before him.
By Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap2-pt3 (IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS...) iii Somewhere a clock struck the hour, echoing through the emptiness. Artie looked at the open French doors where the moonlight slipped through the etched glass, spilling across a Turkey carpet partially covering the parquet floor, and washing up against a book lined wall. There was a large piano-forte tucked into one corner, the dark, ebony coloured legs reflecting the soft moonlight. A large harp and small chair stood nearby, along with a music stand and violin, as well as a cello and two chairs. Paintings lined the West wall, and he thought, I wouldn’t have put them above an open fireplace.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
One More Chance
And there goes another one. Down that long aisle. This time, it’s as red as her painted lips. I watch her from my place, next to her soon-to-be husband. She’s beautiful in her off-the-shoulder gown, her veil covering just her eyes. But that blue doesn’t stay hidden. It never did.
By Megan Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Light at the End of the Road
Trees blur into the dark background encroaching on the edge of the road. The sun sets below the horizon, bathing the sky in a fiery haze. Dark blue sky peaks through a break in the clouds. He looks up and sees the beginning twinkle of stars. He steps on the gas. The white car is a blur on the empty highway, a mirage to any onlooker.
By Megan Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Mistress of the House of Books. V+ Fiction Award Winner.
On the east side of the John Adams Building, facing Third Street, was an entrance. It used to feature three pairs of bronze doors. Sculpted upon these doors were the names and standing forms of heroes and gods. The same six figures for the pairs on either side, with a different half-dozen for the middle pair. Twelve unique figures in all. Hope, perhaps, in an astrological nod?
By Matthew Daniels5 years ago in Fiction
Chapter 1: Footprints
The footprints meandered, but not in a way that suggested staggering frat boys or beachcombers looking for shells. No, these were deeper, carefully chosen, and mixed with half-prints where their creator tested the ground, thought better of it and retracted the step. The path was winding and uneven, but from deliberation, not carefree or drunken wandering.
By Amelia Grace Newell5 years ago in Fiction
