Short Story
A Rich Man’s War
A Rich Man’s War The men who wanted war never smelled it. They sat in cosy offices warmed by polished wood and quiet agreement, tracing borders with clean fingers, moving lives with the slide of a pen. They spoke of strategy as if it were a game, of honour as if it were theirs to spend. War, to them, was something to be chosen, something to be craved, because it gave them power without risk. Down below, the craving did not exist.
By Marie381Uk 12 days ago in Fiction
Not There. Content Warning.
He always touched me like he was checking I was still there. Not urgently. Not roughly. Just a hand on my wrist, my shoulder, the small of my back when we moved through rooms together. A habit I learned to expect before I learned to question. I told myself it was affection, that he needed closeness the way some people need reassurance. I never pulled away. I didn’t want him to think I could disappear again.
By Courtney Jones12 days ago in Fiction
Walters Song. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
~Walters Song~ As Charlie awakes, he glances over at his vintage Garfield clock and quickly realizes that he overslept. “Oh, dear God! This cannot be happening…I set my bloody alarm!” he squealed while racing downstairs to pour his already pre-brewed coffee. “Ugh, where’s the damn sweetener?” he mutters under his breath. As Charlie gulps his coffee, he glances up at his 2018 calendar of his favorite band, Spoon, and realizes the date today: February 20th. He was not late for anything…his partner Phillip’s plane gets in tomorrow, the 21st, but what he does realize, as tears begin to infiltrate his rare dark green eyes, was that this day, eight years ago, was the day he got sober, and his journey of healing began.
By A.J. Timpano12 days ago in Fiction
"Hear Me Out". Top Story - January 2026.
"Hear me out, what if we ran away together?" "Where do you want to go?" "Anywhere but here. We could move to a new city or to Canada, or we could disappear from society to live in the middle of the woods. Maybe a combination of two of those things would be good. What do you say?"
By Kay Husnick12 days ago in Fiction
The devolution of the genteel ideal into a glorification of drunkenness🥂
In Primshire, the inhabitants prided themselves on their genteel manners and dignified demeanor. Tea parties, poetry recitations, and ballroom dances were the lifeblood of social gatherings. The Primshire gentry held their heads high, for they were the epitome of refinement and decorum.
By Antoni De'Leon13 days ago in Fiction
Small Heat
The fire was tiny enough to disbelieve. Two slender pieces of wood sat under the kettle, slanted just so, their edges already burned. The flame between them didn’t rise or roar. It remained low, almost bashful, like it wasn’t sure it deserved to be there. Snow encircled everything—on the ground, on the lip of the fire pit, packed tight and quiet. The cold seemed older than me, older than my thoughts, like it had always been waiting.
By abualyaanart13 days ago in Fiction
The Devil Gets What He Wanted
“Hello Old Scratch. My name is Glabon. I assume you know why I am here?” “Of course, Glabon, as you no doubt know, I know many things, most in fact.” “Well, despite that I am required by my superiors to inform you of my intentions in any case.” “And, you always do what you are told don’t you my friend Glabon?” “Of course, and I am not your friend, nor are you anyone’s friend, but that matters not for purposes of this discussion.” “No need to hurl insults, it was only a figure of speech. I would suggest you lighten up, but I assume your superiors would find that objectionable, and my guess is you are not capable of it. Do you ever even smile Glabon? Or laugh? No, I presume not.” “Mr. Scratch I am not here for banter or games, I am here for your interview. As you know a select group has been commissioned to write your biography for the historical record.”
By Everyday Junglist13 days ago in Fiction
The Library
Nihil River flowed through Neocity, hooking under wooden bridge near The Library. Mathilde had been walking along the river for the past few days. Not having her own transportation placed her among those with special needs. And to satisfy them, she would require a great deal of money, while she didn’t have any to spare.
By Moon Desert13 days ago in Fiction
