Microfiction
FUZZY BEAR
*Fuzzy Bear: A Hug You Can Trust* In a cozy little forest surrounded by tall trees, colorful flowers, and chirping birds, lived a teddy bear named *Fuzzy*. Fuzzy wasn’t like other bears—he wasn’t wild or loud. In fact, he wasn’t even real. He was a soft, stuffed bear with button eyes, stitched paws, and golden brown fur that was always warm, no matter how cold the night was.
By Ibrahim Shah 15 days ago in Fiction
Roses and Raven Feathers
With labored breaths — lumbering along the path of fallen leaves — he pushed on. After many long days of wandering, hunger and loneliness were finally taking their toll. Benny Jetso hadn’t seen one sign of what been looking for, but that wasn’t going to stop him searching.
By Gabriel Shames15 days ago in Fiction
Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues
Dust, Rust, & the Sifting Sand Blues "It’s not about losing; it’s about the sovereign act of starting again." This visual album is a 26-year "blues scheme" finally brought to life. I first built these dreams in a sandbox back in 2000, but it took two decades of sifting through the dust of the river and the rust of the city to truly hear the melody.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 15 days ago in Fiction
The Third Floor Stays Warm
The thermostat in Apartment 3B had read 91 degrees for six weeks. It was not an aggressive heat. It didn’t press against the skin or suffocate the air. It existed the way a number exists on paper—quietly, insistently, without asking permission.
By Lawrence Lease16 days ago in Fiction
Relic
Every Saturday morning I write her a letter in place of a cup of coffee. The kettle can wait. The stove can click itself awake without me. What matters is the scrape of the chair across the tile and the pen uncapping with that soft, hungry pop, like the day taking its first breath.
By SUEDE the poet16 days ago in Fiction
The Third Knock
Every year on the night they met, Mara and Julian knocked three times on a stranger’s door. They did not speak about why three. They did not remember deciding it. The number had arrived the way habits sometimes do—half joke, half dare—then calcified into something that felt older than both of them.
By Lawrence Lease17 days ago in Fiction
