Microfiction
Eavesdropping. Top Story - September 2024. Content Warning.
Eavesdropping had become a habit for Annabelle that summer. Something was going on and Annabelle was being deliberately excluded. Being outside a secret is hard and so, she was spying whenever she was able.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Hello, Doggie. Nice Doggie.
I breathed hard, the dead man at my feet. It took a moment, and the feel of the cool night air on my skin, to remember I was naked. How odd: I hadn't felt remorse when I bashed his head in, but my conscience pecked at me now, as I tugged his joggers off him and put them on, hopping about on the dewy grass.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Marmalade
It was a strange obsession to have, especially as the only person, no, creature, that could possibly relate was a fictional bear called Paddington and he'd only expressed desire for it between slices of bread, whereas she was having it with everything and was astounded at how good it tasted all the time.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Fiction
Where Angels Fear to Tread
Everything made perfect sense now, whether in terms of the big picture or my own personal life. Through Zara I had acquired the missing piece of the puzzle, no less, which I needed to fulfil my destiny as a saviour. Not in the classical sense, of course. But, nevertheless, I was about to give souls the opportunity to save themselves, from a decision which they’d long since forgotten they’d even made. Rules that had previously made such decisions irreversible were no longer valid, and I myself had invalidated them, on account of my growth in consciousness, in defiance of a world that was designed to have the opposite effect. Whilst some conspiracy theorists were aware of this ‘war on consciousness’, they had understandably considered it to be malevolent in nature. Who could have guessed that the world was actually a euthanasia facility, for souls who no longer wanted to exist, and that ‘evil’ was merely the result of people acting from a very low state of consciousness, as they headed inexorably towards oblivion?
By Corey Freemanabout a year ago in Fiction
Too Late For White Flags
The last glimmer of light diminished in the sky above, on the eve of war. Thom and Gwen looked at each other for the last time, free from the blood, death and misery. The screech of devastating machines of their creation eviscerated the land ahead.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
258 Smarmy Smorzando
Smarmy Smorzando was a woman to be reckoned with. Her hair was dutifully coiffed daily just so recherché. Her clothes--always--were impeccably, fashionably, admirably haute. She was a bon vivant, vivisecting a ne'er-do-well of derring-do.
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
