Microfiction

Fake News: The Psychic Echo
They called it Echo. The President reclined in his luxurious swivel chair, and stared at the blue glow of the monitor. "Echo, the Internet's Dreamcatcher," shone in bold yellow type across the top of the webpage onscreen.
By A. S. Lawrence5 months ago in Fiction
Laundry Day
‘What’s with the outfit?’ A patron asks me. I am the costumed crime fighter known as Midnight Man and today just so happens to be laundry day. I am stood in my Laundry Costume in the 10th Street Laundromat. Why do I have a laundry costume? One thing the comic books never tell you is how a superhero launders their gear; how does Batman get blood and other substances off his Batsuit? How does Wolverine clean out the smell of toxic masculinity?
By Alan Walker5 months ago in Fiction
Skin Deep
"It's so hot..." Ammy croaked, sprawled across the freshly polished wooden floor. A fan wheezed in the corner, rotating back and forth every few minutes, pushing nothing but dry, dusty air around the room. Usually the fan helped her survive the long summer days, but today it was useless.
By Parsley Rose 5 months ago in Fiction
The City of Almost
The City of Almost When Mira first moved to the city, she thought the locals were joking. “You’ll see them,” her landlord had said while handing her the brass key with its strange, crooked teeth. “Don’t stare too long. That’s the trick.”
By Timothy A Rowland5 months ago in Fiction
The Message That Never Left
Elena typed the words three times before erasing them. The first draft was too blunt. We’re done. Don’t call me again. The second too sentimental. I’ll always care for you, but this isn’t working. The third hovered somewhere in the middle, but still her thumb trembled above the glowing blue arrow on the screen.
By Timothy A Rowland5 months ago in Fiction
The Room on the Plans. Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
The first time I saw the room, it was a photocopy at the city office, third floor, Planning and Development. Fluorescent lights buzzed like gnats. The clerk, a man in a loose tie and a loose understanding of urgency, slid the papers across the counter as if he were sending a raft down a lazy river.
By Aspen Noble5 months ago in Fiction
A rock and a hard place. Runner-Up in The Shape of the Thing Challenge. Top Story - September 2025.
I’m late. In 20 years’ time a therapist might say that it was deliberate, and I might agree, but this morning I know it’s because I couldn’t move fast enough.
By Hannah Moore5 months ago in Fiction
no stars no more. Top Story - September 2025.
In the evening they escort us to the bunker, after the Careggi's hospital, and we all go like cows, slipping. We go like cows, except the cows went back to their stables themselves, no herding needed. My sister Sasà accepts everything, docile. I wonder what her head has been thinking for the past fourteen years. Her hair, still wet from the shower, reach down to her ass. She has short shorts and tanned legs.
By M.5 months ago in Fiction
When Stone Watches
Today in history, children discovered cave paintings in Lasaux, France. Children being who they are, they were curious about how alive those bison were.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin5 months ago in Fiction
The Garden's Watch
Preface Between loss and remembrance lies a realm of silent echoes–words left unsaid, voices stilled, yet lingering, never fully gone, like roots beneath winter soil, hidden yet alive. In quiet places, in shadows cast by memory, silence becomes speech, absence a kind of presence, a veil, thin as starlight, between worlds. Listen closely: each quiet breath, each pause between heartbeats, speaks clearly the language of those we’ve lost. Their stories–their laughter, grief, and wisdom–echo softly within us, becoming part of our voice. This silence is not emptiness, but fullness, the rich, resonant legacy of those we love, carried forward in every silent echo, like wind through oak leaves, whispering what endures.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales5 months ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
Alexander wasn't confused anymore. He had panicked at first trying to find the surface of the water. He floated in this space between spaces, where the water felt like silk against his skin and breathing came as naturally as it did on land. The darkness had given way to a soft, blue-green glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.
By Parsley Rose 5 months ago in Fiction
The City that Weighed Nothing
The lanterns of Lumen were said to be the brightest in the world. They burned without smoke, without wick, without heat, and, if you believed the Magistrates, without consequence. At dusk, when the lamplighters made their rounds, the city slipped from gold to pearl, from visible to precise, and every edge gained a clean outline of door frames, cobbles, faces and laws.
By Cadma5 months ago in Fiction