Microfiction
Spectral Exploring
Sometimes I stare into the reflection after midnight with all the lights off. I look into eyes muddied by the dark, glittering still with the moonlight filtering through the small window, and wonder how many times I can tempt the devil before he takes the bait.
By Silver Daux9 months ago in Fiction
Call Me Coco
Prologue My alarm shrieks. 6:43 AM. No bleary-eyed scavenging for my slippers and cozying up for a Fraiser rerun with my first chug of coffee for the day. I hit the cold floor in a familiar panic, scrolling emails and cursing the belly bloat that means I won’t be wearing trousers this week.
By Alyson Kate Long9 months ago in Fiction
Deportations and a Pandemic
Imagine that everything you ever believed in all came to a halt – in just one day. A full twenty-four hours, and that was what the outcome of the deportation had caused. Geraldo didn’t see it coming, and neither did any of the other four men who had been carted away by angry ICE agents who didn’t seem to care whether they scraped them up all along their arms as they drug them toward their detention van. Totaling five, Geraldo still hadn’t gotten any clear answers as to why they’d been detained.
By Sai Marie Johnson9 months ago in Fiction
Juneteenth. Content Warning.
To me this is like Independence Day for people of color, and I do not mean to be racist. If I was around during the Civil War, I believe I would have been an abolitionist. Slavery was a bad idea, and no body should be enslaved to do others work no matter what kind of work. I know there were some White plantation owners (masters) that were good to their slaves, and they should be remembered even though slavery was an idea that they thought was right and yet wrong. Here is an acrostic that I think kind of explains 'Juneteenth'.
By Mark Graham9 months ago in Fiction
The Dumpling and the Titans. AI-Generated.
The fluorescent lights of the "Golden Lotus Buffet" hummed like drowsy insects. Beneath their glare, Lin Meihua, fifty years etched into her stooped shoulders and the lines around her determined eyes, plunged her hands into a sink volcano of greasy plates. Scalding water, cheap soap, the relentless ache in her back – this was her American baptism. She’d traded Fujian village gossip and the crushing weight of lost "face" for this Jersey City purgatory: anonymity, exhaustion, and the icy fear of ICE agents materializing like specters.
By zhimin wang9 months ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Bookshop: chapter 6
That night, Mara couldn’t sleep. The journal lay on her nightstand, closed but humming in her mind like a song she couldn’t forget. Her grandmother’s words clung to her chest. Each entry had revealed a different shade of Evie—a woman who had hidden longing beneath wit, who had fallen deeply and quietly in love.
By Muhammad Sabeel9 months ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Bookshop: chapter 5
The next morning, Mara brought the journal to the shop early, cradling it as if it might crumble under too much light. She had barely slept, her mind tangled in the beautiful, aching lines of her grandmother’s secret love story.
By Muhammad Sabeel9 months ago in Fiction
The Cyborg Valedictorian
This is for Mikeydred's June Prompt. What is it to be human? 🤖⚙️🧠💔📡🔧🦿💾🫀🤖⚙️🧠💔📡🔧🦿💾🫀🤖⚙️🧠💔📡🔧🦿💾🫀 June, 2045. The high school auditorium welcomed its graduating batch of students, gathered in front of the stage, eyes trained on the podium. They awaited their valedictorian to grace it with her presence.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin9 months ago in Fiction
