Microfiction

One Last Love Letter
Dearest Husband, Do you remember the cold? I do. It was the kind of cold that seeps into bone and burns a hole into your memory. You gave me that cold. You wrapped it around my final breath like a gift I never asked for.
By Sara Wilson3 months ago in Fiction
What Remains
*the following missive was discovered in Yorkshire, 1935, etched upon the inside of an unmarked coffin.* * * * To whatever lost soul finds these words:
By Gabriel Huizenga3 months ago in Fiction
Letter from Zona Heaster Shue
My Dearest Mother, You must forgive the coldness of my hand as I write this. The house in Greenbrier County keeps its secrets well, and I have learned that some silences are more terrible than any scream.
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Fiction
Sleep my dear. Top Story - October 2025.
Hello my dearest, Do you miss the way my body squirmed at your touch, the way my muscles involuntary convulsed with every tattered breath of your passion?
By JBaz3 months ago in Fiction
Ready for a Really Hot Time?. Top Story - October 2025.
Dear Michael, I am writing you to inform you that I am aware of all your indiscretions via the internet and I am prepared to expose them to your wife and both your families.
By Dana Crandell3 months ago in Fiction
The Cat Never Forgets
It waits...for payment. 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ The estate of Hollowmere in Langsville was quiet--but whispers often broke the silence. So did --
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin3 months ago in Fiction
Where the Walls Still Whisper Your Name
Dear Elliot, I know you think you live alone. That the apartment is yours. That no one walks these floors at night but you.
By Aarish3 months ago in Fiction
Another Afterlife
Hello Natasha, I'm writing to let you know that I've been playing with your former lover, Joe since he died. You see, I'm what you might call a female Lucifer -- demoness. I really enjoy my job.
By Julie Lacksonen3 months ago in Fiction
Courtesy Kills
Nobody likes lifts. It's an enclosed space, isn't it? Mind you, I've never been one to suffer with claustrophobia or anything like that. Call me lazy if you like, but I prefer to arrive at work not sweaty and gross from clattering up a billion stairs.
By L.C. Schäfer3 months ago in Fiction
Regrets?
My dearest love, I am writing to you knowing that you are unlikely to read this wherever you are in the afterlife, but you can't say I didn't try. I write for three reasons:
By Julie Lacksonen3 months ago in Fiction
Love Can't Fix Everything
Don’t puke, I tell myself. Don’t you dare— “Are you ok?” Rafael calls from the living room. “Fine,” I croak. He won’t understand. He’s never had a migraine.
By Stephanie Hoogstad3 months ago in Fiction
We don’t want him!
Musk sat under his basking lamp and moaned. He clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth. He hissed. “I just wanna go home!”
By Sam Spinelli3 months ago in Fiction