Microfiction
Chat person
At the end of 2022, several websites in China posted the same content, telling a story: The chairman of a multi-billion-yuan conglomerate, surnamed Wang, was severely injured in a car accident while traveling for business negotiations. Despite the doctors' best efforts and meticulous treatment, he was left paralyzed and bedridden. The chairman's brain was unharmed, and his thinking was clear, but he was idle all day, and his temperament changed drastically. He either sighed deeply, cried, or complained about fate and scolded others. His relatives and friends were very worried about him. To improve the chairman's mood, they posted online to hire a "chat companion" at a high salary.
By John Bruceabout a year ago in Fiction
Gladiator
The youngster sat, trembling. Spiculus watched him. Despite years as an applauded killer, Spiculus was still sensitive to the humanity in those around him; it's just he didn't have room for it. Couldn't afford to. One day, he might be fighting with them in the arena; the next, against them. Only one of them was likely to survive. Sentiment led to a lapse of focus and ultimately and most probably, death. Spiculus did not want to die and every day his odds were getting shortened: slower reaction times; heaviness of limb; eyes less sharp. He was in good shape but it was getting harder to believe that he would come out of the arena alive.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
344 A Christmas Quantum Part 1: the Ghost of Christmas “Is”
All cool cats, eventually, should veer away from self-serving solipsism and ponder the "meaning of it all." It can't be all about bitchin' cars, "it" couples, clicks-and-likes, and liquidity, can it?
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
343 Make the North Pole Great Again
"Sir?" asked an elf. "Yes, Pippy?" answered Santa. "Sir, about the NICE list. Last month someone from the NAUGHTY list was transferred over to it." Pippy held a tightly rolled-up scroll. Santa waved his fingers, indicating Pippy should let it spill out onto the floor, which it did.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
Raiders. Content Warning.
This story comes with a Dharrsheena warning. I'd been warned about black and white raiders from day one. Mum was always keen to share stories about anything that could hurt us, from the time that we were born really. She wanted us to be prepared. She never meant for us to be scared, just alert, because it could happen and she knew of others who had been victims of the thugs.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
A red bean
In recent years, Erlong Mountain has begun to develop tourism, attracting many visitors. The place is filled with red bean trees, and in a village not far from here, there is a thirteen-year-old boy named Xiaoshan who takes advantage of the holiday to pick up red beans on the mountain. Xiaoshan's mother has immobile legs but has a pair of skillful hands. She drills a small hole in each red bean that Xiaoshan picks up and strings them together with a thin thread to make red bean necklaces, then lets Xiaoshan sell them to tourists on Erlong Mountain to earn some tuition.
By John Bruceabout a year ago in Fiction
Tell Me Something
Sona worked as a hedge fund analyst at Zwaanendael in Wilmington, Delaware. Her friend Caterina also served as a hedge fund analyst at Christina Capital. When they were not pulling down sixteen hour days at their respective firms, they bet on themselves.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
Wait
"And now, we wait. Did they tell you how long?" Bethan asked. "No, but they did tell me not to move. I told them that I had no intention of moving. That I wouldn't feel secure until I knew that he'd been taken into custody." Christine spat these words out, her enmity conveyed.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
