Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
My Island Dream
I sit in the beach lounge chair, enjoying the sparkling, crystal blue water of the ocean in front of me. Though the waves were inviting me to dive into them, I opted to sit in the chair. Sunbathing suited me better than swimming in the ocean. The waves gently caress the shores; the breeze whispering in my ears.
By Iris Harris2 years ago in Fiction
The Long and Painful Death of Sandie Malone. Runner-Up in Arid Challenge. Content Warning.
November, 2023, Colorado Desert. Mam, before we begin, I just want to say that I will be offering no apology for betraying you at your funeral. It was the best thing I could have done. I don't even mind if you do come back and haunt me. I think I would enjoy that.
By Caroline Jane2 years ago in Fiction
Rosalie Decides to Walk
Canicatti, Sicily | July 6th, 1943 Outside of the church Rosalie ripped away the black veil that was attached to her ridiculous black hat, freeing her thickly curled hair that barely grazed her shoulders and stuffed it into the hungry mouth of a rusted trash bin. Breathing in through her nostrils and out through her mouth, she deeply inhaled the cool night air and used the sleeve of her black blouse to wipe away any lingering tears still dampening her cheeks.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Gold, Red Berries, Rosemary, and a Lilac-Colored Vine
White-capped mountain peaks were the highest things, scraping along the underside of the still blue sky. They surrounded my village. I’d stare up at them and wonder how high they really went. Though I could see the tops of them from here, I knew I didn’t truly understand their height.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile2 years ago in Fiction
winter blues
Part one I’ve always wondered why it’s called the winter blues. I understand the whole reason is because the sun isn’t out as long. The sun comes up late and it gets dark super early. Even though it’s cold and many snowstorms as long as you don’t have to go out during a storm it’s the most beautiful time of year. Nothing is more perfect than waking up to find out you are having a snow day.
By Jen Phillips2 years ago in Fiction
Last Letter Home
My dearest Catherine, My love, I hope you are well and safe this Christmas, for it’s a glorious Christmas night here as I sit penning this letter to you. While I dream of being with you and the children at the lake, sitting beside the fire, drinking wine with you as William and Mary play at our feet, there are things happening here in Trenton, and it’s a dream that I do not dare dream, for it makes what comes next that much harder.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
Purgatory
If you’re lucky, you might to see the cortege. Black plumed Friesians, all harnessed muscle and gleaming life, drawing the dead in their wake. Or the partygoers, black-clad and not a bad word to say, whole hearted in their commitment, just for the day. You might see the mourning, drizzling, raining, pouring, whilst the earth is thrown down, scattering into earth, the grievances buried to offer handshakes and hugs, sandwiched with platitudes and before it grows boring, they’ll be on their way. If you’re lucky you might see the furnace, flames hidden from sight behind automated curtains and music you’ve chosen, where comfort is woven into funeral rites. You might see a parting so love filled, so heartening, that you regret more than ever that didn’t leave more in life. If you are lucky.
By Hannah Moore2 years ago in Fiction
The Mirror by Richard Seltzer
A middle-aged man in a business suit is about to walk out of his apartment. He reaches toward the doorknob, then halts abruptly. There is panic on his face. He tries again and again, but he can’t bring himself to touch the doorknob.
By Richard Seltzer2 years ago in Fiction
