Top Stories

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

A Mother’s Suggestion
I thought I was prepared, but until your seventeen-year-old kid, all six feet two of him, walks in, covered in someone’s blood, you don’t know. At first, you’re just grateful it’s not his, having examined him head to toe for any scratches or wounds, any parting gifts other than the quickly drying blood. I looked for that joyful light in Mike’s eyes, the one that kept me fighting all these years. Dull, like someone had covered it up. Shoulders hunched and skin stained brown, he seemed more like a rusted-out car on the side of the road, abandoned. But I’d never do that.
By Sean A.10 months ago in Fiction
Ghost Writer
Over my dead body would I stay here again Date of travel: 29 October – 1 November 2024 I’ll cut to the chase – your house isn’t haunted. Yes, it sent shivers down my spine, but I’ll attribute that to the woefully inadequate central heating system rather than any ghostly goings-on. I still can’t believe I let myself be tricked – hoodwinked by your website listing. I’m so furious, I’m spitting literal feathers.
By Caroline Craven10 months ago in Fiction
What Makes Larry Run?
Larry was in a rush. He left his apartment, not bothering to close the door. By the time his boots hit the pavement, he was already in a flat sprint. This was impressive, considering that Larry was seventy years old.
By Alvin Ang10 months ago in Fiction
Skeletons
It was a big night for Jane Echols, as she stepped up to the podium and addressed a huge crowd, mainly consisting of women. This was something near and dear to Jane, as she was speaking at her very creation: a huge foundation for survivors of domestic abuse. Her speech, for the most part, was the same one she always gave; consisting of inspiring words and also mentioning the motivation behind her foundation: her daughter, Bridget.
By Clyde E. Dawkins10 months ago in Fiction
11:11 When It Happened
He was bald. But only on the top of his head, each straight strand lying below the bald spot— grey and black, pushed up by his hardened hair cells. His headphones were sitting on top, black in sturdy plastic. He moved it every few seconds as if part of a ritual, as if his ears have moved position.
By Caitlin Charlton10 months ago in Fiction
Route 96. First Place in 500 Word Shockwave Challenge.
"It's mighty nice of you to show me the quickest way back to the main road... My car quit on me today... Not sure what broke on that piece of junk... What did you say your name was?"
By Lamar Wiggins10 months ago in Fiction
The Protectors of the Universe
Micky loved Lego people. He'd tell you they were Protectors of the Universe. Bank robber, police dog, rugby player: Micky knew that if he placed them on his windowsills, he would be safe.
By Rachel Deeming10 months ago in Fiction
Strike true
"Do not Hesitate. Strike hard, strike true." Though I doubted my own fortitude, I found myself able to say these words to the axeman. There, upon that shameful scaffold, had I come to end my days.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
The Wolf and the Owl
There was once a wolf, who saw the full moon once a month and howled. When the blue glow cascaded across his forest home, he felt the sound rise up from his throat, and into the sky.
By ThatWriterWoman10 months ago in Fiction
Sacred Spring
It is a pleasant, leisurely drive, Etta James singing At Last on the radio as the Alabama countryside passes lazily by, gently rolling terrain and piney woods interrupted here and there by patchwork farms or the occasional traffic signal prior to entering yet another sleepy, southern town.
By John Cox10 months ago in Fiction
LOST IN SPACE
‘Argh’ Why is my head aching so much? Each pulse like a hammer against my skull. My eyelids feel like they weigh a ton Where….. am I? Who…. am I? I can’t seem to remember anything
By Juliet Abbey10 months ago in Fiction
A Family Affair
It was another dreary day of drizzle, but Thomas Milford didn’t mind. He slogged through the final few yards of mud to the big house’s kitchen door. After giving the knocker a few good clangs he glanced out at the green fields of the estate. He could just make out the shape of the farmhouse that he and his brothers called home.
By D.K. Shepard11 months ago in Fiction