Short Story

Blueberry Bucket
The roar of a small engine rushing down the street wakes me on this late Thursday afternoon. At first I’m alarmed by the amount of light in the room, the patterns in the wallpaper. I sit up too fast and my head reels. And then I remember; driving for a couple of hours in the morning rain. Pulling up on the familiar patch of grass and feeling my body finally relax for the first time in months. There was a rush to get inside, pulling the essentials for the next few days out of the car and dashing across the narrow street to the back door. Everything put away in its place. And then a nap.
By SC Moores5 years ago in Fiction
Survival Island
As the years passed by and the world became cold and grey all many of us had of the past were old photographs. Old school developed photos and not a compilation of your favorite moments on your Instagram page. You know the old school ones where Grandma couldn't aim and the top of sissys head was cut off? Or the 1000 times you reminded dad to always move his thumb out of the frame and there you are at your high school prom. You, James and dad's thumb. Oh how long ago that feels. How I long to have dad embarass me by taking 10 photos of me under the trees just so he can reminisce on rainy days about how much the world has changed. Dad, if only you were here you could hold my hand as the shivers begin and my fever commences.
By Reel Vibes5 years ago in Fiction
Googol’s Grandiose Gamble
For many years, Googol carried a light burden. He knew how to prove the impossible, namely that one equals two. Had it been correct, this 1 = 2 equation would have had many ramifications, including that of the absurdity of life, notwithstanding its already obvious irrationality—fait accompli. The equation was derived by means of seven simple steps:
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Fiction
Playing Possum
It had been a simple matter for her to penetrate the so-called security that surrounded the building.
By David Perlmutter5 years ago in Fiction
A Multiverse Immigrant
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
By Aley Way5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Act
Nobody knew what the Fire had been or where it had come from. The survivors he had encountered all had their theories. The government, aliens, terrorists. The Fire had terrified and taken indiscriminately. Two men might have been walking down the street and one of them would have disappeared in flames while the other was unscathed. None of it mattered, what did matter was that those that survived kept on living. He had been traveling for eight months now.
By Mike Saska5 years ago in Fiction
The History Hunter
The sinkhole must have formed since I was here yesterday. Slowing my breath to listen, I won’t enter until I’m sure there are no rats. Though Opal insists they’re blind, my experience suggests otherwise. They go crazy at any sort of light, sunlight or fire. It could be the heat or the crackling sound of whatever it burns, either way they’re nasty creatures. Always in hordes of twenty or more and vicious—I’d rather not deal with rats today.
By J. M. Tompkins5 years ago in Fiction
Ashes
“It’s almost over”. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself repeatedly day-in and day-out, since my wife and two sons died in my arms well over a year ago from the very start of this pointless conflict. I truly think about them every single day and each time I do, I can’t help but to also remember the faces of the heartless bastards who murdered them in the name of their ‘so-called’ “Divine Savior” of a leader. My country was once considered to be one of the most powerful and feared on Earth, militarily and in terms of widespread political influence, but as I look on, all I see now are the ashes and ruins of once-thriving cities and the dead corpses of the ones I previously cared so much about.
By Timothy Horton5 years ago in Fiction
A world without memory ceases to exist
I have this little drawing in a dented tin, something I know she drew of us in highlighter and ink, but don't know when she made it. It sits comfortably next to a heart-shaped locket she used to wear—some kitschy jewelry she got from a vending machine in the mall. The mall that I'm now sitting in the bones of, its carcass destroyed from a war we didn't see coming. Next to that is a simple blue Bic lighter, a package of too-few cigarettes, and my one half-melted candy bar.
By K. Leigh5 years ago in Fiction
A Heart Annihilated
He stared at the open locket; one half held a woman and the other a younger female. The man pulled it close to his heart and hugged it tightly. An arm lifted, it brought it to his lips. Tender kisses to each side preceded him closing the two metal halves. He slipped the heart shaped trinket over his neck and onto his chest. Whispered words of affection floated away on his breath.
By Seth Butterfield5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
As he stared out across the remnants of the city, the wind swept through the derelict monoliths of days gone by. They reached ever upward, even as nature sought to reclaim what was once her own. The buildings screamed silently, unlike the wind that passed around their forms. An everlasting monument to mankind’s hubris. Even in death they stood as a perverse mockery of what once was. This place was now a grave and he had no business paying any respects to whatever inhabitants may have lingered there.
By 5 years ago in Fiction
Redlands
Twenty-eight years. That is how long Eilis Bridgeby has fought the pull of the woods before her, with its lush greens and cooling mist. Her clan called it the Wasteland, symbolic for all the opportunities that they would no longer have. She had only wandered near enough to feel the mist a handful of times, each time her fear reminding her not to stray too close, for even now, the beasts snarl, growl, and search for trespassers to prey upon.
By Randie Holdcraft5 years ago in Fiction