Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Flash of Light
Alice stared off into space while she waited. Her first day back to work had been harrowing to say the least. Had she actually said, just days prior, that she missed work and couldn’t wait to get back to it? What had she been thinking? And now, when she just wanted to be back home, it seemed like she was going to be stuck at the crosswalk. It couldn’t take this long for the pedestrian walk light to change to green, even though she had just missed the last one. What was taking so long? Why did the universe seemingly not want her to get home? What was the hol- It’s green!
By V J Wiatrowski4 years ago in Fiction
10,000 Pounds
Abuse can be so incredibly difficult to recognise at times. Especially when it’s so close and personal that it’s impossible to step back and see the big picture for what it really is. Maggie knew her boyfriend was a sadistic, controlling sociopath, but a part of her had always been in denial about it. So she let his passive aggressive comments burn into her skin, day after day, as pieces of her were chipped and chiselled away.
By J. R. Lowe4 years ago in Fiction
Bugs Of The Night, Together Burn Bright
Why is it that bugs fly to a flame? I thought it was the light. We are fickle things, bumbling in the darkness most of our lives, so when a beacon lights, we float toward it without thinking. We don’t know the source of the light beaming brightly in the night, nor the consequence of following it, but the journey draws us.
By Eloise Robertson 4 years ago in Fiction
El Amor
Mariposa sat at the small table in a café in Tarragona, Spain, patiently awaiting her date's arrival and hoping he would appear soon. Tarragona, though somewhat small, was a busy city due to the bullfights, and it was possible that Santiago had been delayed by unforeseen events since he worked at the Tarraco Arena where the bullring was located. Mariposa reassured herself he would arrive shortly. He had promised her that tonight would be a very special evening. The two had known each other for a year, but they had never been on an actual date until this evening.
By Cindy Calder4 years ago in Fiction
Her Favorite Flower
Her favorite flowers were marigolds. In those halcyon days of summer past, we would run through fields full of all manners of wild flowers, but with every marigold she spotted she would stop, stoop low and take a deep breath. I can still see her there, in that periwinkle blue sun dress, turning back to me with a look of pure exultation. Happy to simply be alive! I can see her there, in those drowsy, endless summers, laughing and squealing with delight, with the purest pleasure at the simple fact that we existed at the same time, the same place, and that there were marigolds there too. A little slice of her own personal heaven.
By David James4 years ago in Fiction
Yellow, Yellow, Yellow
The sun beat down hot and heavy in the sky, the shadows on the ground were slimming. He’d be here soon. Tree tops swayed in the breeze as the bees carried out their pollination. The meadow was small yet open. I ran my fingers through the thin blades of grass surrounding my feet, knees tucked under my chin.
By Miles Vaessen4 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Witch
There’s this feeling, that I cannot resist. When the sun delicately caresses you, and the breeze brushes past, rustling the trees on its way. The early stages of summer, when the cold is on its way out, and basking under the warmth of a rejuvenated sun is blissful.
By Ariane Torelli4 years ago in Fiction
The Flower of Flame
It was my 16th birthday. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the unlit candles on my cake. My mom sat next to me, waiting for my grandma to arrive. I ran my fingers through my hair as we waited: it felt strange, having such short hair now. I’d gotten it cut yesterday, wanting to reinvent myself now that I was turning 16.
By Sephy Atlas4 years ago in Fiction
Dia de Los Muertos
NOTE: This story is based on true events dramatized to convey my crisis of identity. *** Purple, amber, and white flowers adorned the table like a garden club meeting. I cannot name them but know the colors. The sun faded over the horizon, and the shifting hues radiated its prisms onto the walls of my daughter's living room. I escaped the throng of people inside to find my thoughts in the backyard.
By J. S. Wade4 years ago in Fiction
