Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Heirloom
Blah, blah, blah. I am in physical pain from trying not to roll my eyes in boredom. Just order your drink and go already. Can you not tell by the complete lack of interest on my face? I have bigger and more pressing matters at hand than discussing your dreadfully boring… whatever it was that you were talking about. Your moustache is too long, and your ridiculous top hat might make others assume you are wealthy, but to me its just part of a façade. Maybe I should give him a drink on the house so he will go back to his table. I need to move this bracelet into the top of my corset so I can sneak it out of here before anyone notices that its gone. It almost feels like its burning my skin being visible to everyone!
By Sarah MacKenzie5 years ago in Fiction
Don't Judge a Blank...Slade
He's just being a typical teenage boy, they said. Don't worry, he'll grow out of it. It's just a phase, they said. Just a phase? Just a phase! Grow out of it? Grow out of what? There was nothing more aggravating than having all these random people judging him. And for what? His clothes?! Honestly. What's the big deal? So, he wears all black from head to toe. So, he has shaggy void black hair with the bangs brushed carelessly to the side. So, he's taken a liking to the black eyeliner all the girls are wearing, and the studded belts of rock stars, and the combat boots of the military. So what?
By Rachal Flewellen5 years ago in Fiction
Talisman
Day 118, Sol 2240 45° 40' 37.192" N 111° 2' 34.562" W (Bozeman, Montana) We moved locations today, five miles closer to the epicenter. Clean-up is going well. Fewer bodies, this far into the perimeter. The pyroclastic flow took out most of them, which is significantly less messy than the ash and pumice we found further south. Less digging, some of the houses are still intact. We will probably be done here within the day, Sol willing.
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
Alice Meets Alyss
Tired of being alone, tired of being the only one to ever do anything wrong, tired of being just "that girl", she stormed out the back door and into the yard. The crash of the door against the jam resounded through the quiet afternoon air. She stood in the center of the yard, the uncut grass tickling her shins through her black and white striped stockings, breathing rapidly in anger and frustration. She wanted to scream.
By Rachal Flewellen5 years ago in Fiction
Dystopian Gods of Amara
Asherah was still sitting in her palace room surrounded with emptiness and memories of times gone by. She fiddled with the heart shaped necklace around her neck – her birth right and felt the power surging around her hands. She remembered the good old days when she, Yam and El first met, and how they had saved the universe. The first war.... Her reverie broken; a booming knock came to the door.
By Karen Quinn5 years ago in Fiction
The Smallville Movie!
~Smallville~ THE MOVIE! The RE-UNION: The Johnathan Kent Years! Once upon a time in a Castle Far, Far, away, was a young boy growing up to be a man whose world would be changed by the love and life of 2 very important people to him, THIS is that story!
By Jennifer Cooley5 years ago in Fiction
Blue Butterfly Dreams
A butterfly. Not just any butterfly, though. She has seen this butterfly before. Electric blue, incandescent, intricately patterned wings, and a melodic song. She didn't know butterflies made sounds apart from the flapping of wings. She'd seen other butterflies before but never heard them, definitely not like this. The melody of its song was mesmerizing, it made her want to dance, but she decided to run instead.
By Melancholic Mama5 years ago in Fiction
A Place Once Called Home. Top Story - June 2021.
The house looked a bit more run-down than Abigail remembered it, despite it only having been a few years since she’d been there. It had been mostly left alone, the only fully intact house on the street. All the others had broken windows, wide-open doors, or had been partially incinerated. This house, however, was still standing, with nothing but a couple cracks in the windows and a bit of moss growing on the roof.
By Reyna Condon5 years ago in Fiction
