Short Story
Saint Nicholas' Last Ride
The snow fell in ashen flakes, the sky above a perpetual gray that mirrored the despair of the world below. In the year 2147, Christmas was a relic, outlawed decades earlier by the Council of Unity. Declared a source of division and greed, the holiday and its traditions were erased from history books. But whispers of rebellion persisted—quiet murmurs of a time when people gathered, when joy and giving weren’t crimes.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Gift of Wrath
The holiday party was in full swing, with laughter and the hum of festive music filling the air. Emily, the office manager, had outdone herself this year. A crackling fire, garlands draped across every surface, and a massive Christmas tree glittering with golden ornaments dominated the room. In the corner, the Secret Santa table overflowed with wrapped gifts.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 42
Chapter 42 Sara sat back on her heels, the Greatworm egg glowing faintly in its cocoon of spores. Her chest rose and fell with exhaustion, but there was a steadiness in her eyes now. She looked across the lake to Whistle, who had watched her struggle and endure without a word, his hawk perched calmly on his arm.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
Christmas Tales ~ The White House Christmas Thief
‘Tis the season of giving, and within the grand halls of the White House, the spirit of Christmas comes alive. Lavish decorations adorn the public rooms, showcasing mesmerizing Christmas themes. Unfortunately, the less fortunate souls shall never witness the splendor nor partake in the extravagant feasts that grace this festive occasion. However, there exists a White House Christmas Thief who harbors deep compassion for the destitute, and this tale unveils her most generous heist yet!
By Mia Z. Edwards2 months ago in Fiction
The Last Story Abdelaziz Never Wrote. AI-Generated.
**The Last Story Abdelaziz Never Wrote** *A Literary Short Story from Gaza* Editor’s Note: This story is a work of literary fiction inspired by real experiences of displacement and war. It reflects the fragile line between life, hope, and sudden loss.
By Medo Salah2 months ago in Fiction
The Four Bloodlines
Chapter 1: The Outcasts In the hidden corners of London’s magical underworld, four powerful bloodlines stood divided by secrets, curses, and ancient rivalries. From these families came four children — each burdened by a life they never chose.
By Unsworth Macpatrick 2 months ago in Fiction
Thanksgiving For Lost Memories
Part 1 For the first time in a long time, Thanksgiving was quiet. There were no arguments, accusations, bickering or fighting. The day started calmly, and it looked like things were going to stay that way. With the parents not there, the Thompson siblings knew this was their moment to bring order to a long-neglected place they once called home.
By Dean Traylor2 months ago in Fiction
Don’t Feed The Birds
The breeze rustled through the trees and up the hairs on Laura’s neck as she pulled in her pockets to her waist. Sunshine beaming through made it just tolerable for a stroll in the park. Her father offered his hand to cross the street. “Too cold.” She stared into his warm face.
By Ginny Newland2 months ago in Fiction
Glorious Dead. Content Warning.
“For I parted then with valiant men…” - The Foggy Dew, An Irish Revolutionary Song -0- Far out into the hills, pipes began to call their lingering, mournful dirge. It bounced and echoed, harmonizing with itself as the piper played. In perfect time, the call and response of the pipes and the hills melded and blended together until the pipes themselves were lost in their own echoes. Until the very hills and valleys seemed to sing a lament of their own.
By Alexander McEvoy2 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 40
Chapter 40 Sara moved in silence, the battlefield quiet now except for occasional comments carried on the wind from those that had watched the once sided battle from the Wall. She knelt by each fallen mercenary, hands steady as she searched their bodies. Coins, weapons, scraps of parchment, and relics were gathered with care, each item tucked away without ceremony. She did not rush. She did not speak.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
