Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
A Story About A Forest
Once upon a time there was a gorgeous, lush forest that teemed with life and vibrance. The forest was protected by highly official documents, laws and legislation, unharm-able, loved and nurtured by all who lived by it. Baby squirrels played and chased each other up and down majestic trunks from dawn to dusk. Nestled in great roots were settlements of mushroom villages and fat bugs of all shapes, sizes and colours wove in between the little umbrellas. Food was abundant, air was clean and sweet and seldom was there a crash that told of a fallen giant. When there was, new saplings rose up tall, growing strong upon the wisdom of the old bark beneath their roots.
By Angie Allanby4 years ago in Fiction
Changeling Child
The night that Mary Bennet was born had been a clear, cold one. Stars illuminated the cloudless sky, as if watching over some fortuitous event. The village of Longbourn, and it's neighboring town of Meryton, were as quiet as they ever could be. Indeed, it was almost peaceful, if not for the happenings at Longbourn.
By Natasja Rose4 years ago in Fiction
Extra Credit
Darlene rested her head against the cool and solid refrigerator, her eyes closed as she counted out the longest sixty-three seconds of every day. Those sixty-three seconds it took for the coffee machine to create her personal cup of mommy wake up juice to start the day.
By Judey Kalchik 4 years ago in Fiction
The Unsaid Good-Bye. First Place in SFS 8: Pear Tree Challenge.
Nic sat on the toilet in her great-grandmother’s house, staring at the shower wall mural that had creeped her out as a child, feeling very creeped out. She hated using the bathroom here, because there was nothing to do but sit and look at those creepy, sculpted people with their white, almond-shaped eyes and oversized hands, positioned around the trunk of a vast Yggdrasil of a pear tree, branches spread wide above the length of the tub and oval leaves ending in sharp barbs like wasp stingers drooped in silent menace. If a bathroom could be threatening, her great-grandmother had cornered the market.
By R. E. Dyer4 years ago in Fiction
Reading and Righting
Reading and Righting Ricky Pardue buried his Ma by his Pa up in the Boot Hill Cemetery as close to the old pear tree as he could get them. His Pa died of accumulated ills and despondency associated with his time fighting for the Confederacy's failed secession, and his Ma died not long afterwards of consumption, according to old Doc Gibbons. His Pa never was right after he came home from the war, and his Ma just seemed to have wasted away.
By Cleve Taylor 4 years ago in Fiction
To Drown a Pear
Circe Elton was only twenty-two years old when she began working for The Facility. It was quite an honor to be sought out for a project of this caliber, especially given her youth, or so she had been told in one of the fifteen or so interviews that she ran through with her usual ease. Other people liked to tell her how proud of herself she ought to be at any given time-- an unconscious desire of inferior minds to assert some emotional control over a person they could not comprehend in the slightest. Other people did not know what to do when confronted by sheer, unadulterated genius. It made them doubt themselves, destabilized their over-inflated egos. But Circe did not care. In fact, she did not care about anyone at all.
By Katie Alafdal4 years ago in Fiction
A Moment Ahead
If people actually knew Esther Ringell, she would have been the topic of every conversation had when there’s nothing else to talk about. Really, it was quite a talent to be someone so odd as Esther yet still avoid being the focus of others’ tongues. When Esther ever pondered this, she would always conclude that her extravagance was such that it was noticed in the moment but forgotten afterwards – especially once she had returned to the safety of her habitual demeanour that had the basic outward appearance of a blank wall. The excuse she loved most when some noticed this stark difference and asked her about it was that she had reserved so much energy (and face muscles) from appearing like a zombie that she could be ‘wild’ and ‘crazy’ with no effort or second thought.
By Caitlin Swan4 years ago in Fiction
The Diary of the Last Teenage Girl on Earth:
Thursday, October 27, 2022 I am writing in a diary on paper, with a pen – how primitive - something I wouldn’t have thought I would ever do, with my Mac Note Book. But, it is all I have now, and I have to organize my thoughts, and writing always helped me think clearer, as if that it possible now in this crazy world.
By Brittany Smith4 years ago in Fiction
