Top Stories

Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

The Jewel
Meet the team: The Driver: my older brother, Danny. Has a provisional license, and connections. Namely: The Crim: Will. Expert at getting in and out of places. Cool head in a crisis.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
The Art of the Heist
I've been a thief all my life. My Mama was a thief. My Grammie was a thief. Even my Daddy, they say, was a thief. I never met him. He left when I was a couple weeks old. Anyway, my point is, thieving's the family business.
By Misty Rae3 years ago in Fiction
Lost Keys
Sheriff Thompson pushed his chair back, hands folded on his stomach. He stared at Ron and Don Dumphreys across from him.
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Fiction
Heist Most Clandestine
She leaned against the weeping willow, sipping from a fresh cup of tea, holding it in both hands as a shade against the night chill. If she could get away with this, it would be the heist of her career. Sonneteers would pen roundelays while balladeers sang her praises.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock3 years ago in Fiction
A Novice Gambit: a microfiction
"What if Magister Delbreck catches us, Donald? You know what he'll do!" one boy said, warily casting a spell of detection over a cabinet.
By Ian Read3 years ago in Fiction
Junkie. Runner-Up in Micro Heist Challenge. Content Warning.
She didn't dream of being this way as a little girl. Life threw obstacles her way, and sometimes she was able to avoid them, while other times, they smacked her straight in the face. It's hard to find somewhere to lay the blame. But she faces it, every day, and trust, this cruel world never made anything easy. So she lights the match. She heats the spoon. And she sails away to lands unknown, hoping, just for one second, to escape. Because in her dreams, she's a dragon slayer and a princess. She can touch the clouds and sing with the stars. She can be anybody besides who she is now.
By Ashley Lima3 years ago in Fiction
The Vocal Plus Secret Society
+ MANY YEARS IN THE FUTURE + + ACTUALLY, NOT THAT MANY + The moment an original piece is written, or even partially written - on any device, even if it's not (willingly) shared on the Internet - the words are extracted and replicated multiple times all over the web. That's all the Internet is, now.
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
The Siren's Purse. Second Place in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Fantasy Fiction.
It was dumb luck that nobody was killed, though to hear the rivermen bragging over their spirits, it was testament to their rare skill. The siren had been wandering the silver gloom of the icebound estuary, weakened and alone. Had they met her in the seething wilderness of the open sea in the company of her sisters, their survival would have been a fireside tale wondrous enough to last them the rest of their lives.
By EJ Ferguson3 years ago in Fiction
The Last Story
The End That was the words that they wrote, the final words. There would be no more. They were written with the last ink on the last piece of paper. The story was important but would have to be kept secret and hidden.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Fiction
Know Your Enemy
Trigger: Domestic Violence ******* Iris smiled approvingly into the mirror as she applied the final touches of her makeup. The violet-blue eyeshadow would match perfectly with her sister’s sapphire earrings - the “something borrowed, something blue,” segment of her ensemble.
By Cathy holmes3 years ago in Fiction
Do You See Me Now?
The light peeking through the lazily closed curtains shines onto his drowsy, heavy eyes acting as a rude alarm to awaken him from his drunken slumber. Sully turns to his side and is met with long blonde hair facing away from him. He can’t see her face so isn’t sure if she’s a new woman or one he’s been here before with. Almost designed by fate, the aggressive vibration of his phone beckons him.
By YesItsMocha3 years ago in Fiction
Phoenix and Obsidian Part 1
Gerala knelt underneath the hollow shell of a sevanda tree, under the baking sun. Here in the desert, at mid day, there was nothing to see - except the shadow of two hopeful vultures circling high above. Well, they can wait a while more, she thought. I can do this.....
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction