Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Pumpkinus
Pumpkinus D. A. Ratliff Professor Rath gathered his students before the schoolhouse, his excitement as palpable as the apprehension he witnessed in their young eyes. His favorite event of the year was the night the children met the wizard of Halloween.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Dusty Sweeps Clean
Dusty, despite being old and worn, stood proudly in the corner of his owner Lane’s mind. He was a duster who took pride in his job - he saw himself as doing more than cleaning. His mission, which he had chosen years ago, was to rid Lane’s mind of all the clutter the day had left behind.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Linabout a year ago in Fiction
Circo delle Sogni Perduti
A whirlwind of orange, auburn, and golden leaves danced through the somber downtown. Just a decade back, Halloween had been a revered tradition in the community. Shops took pride in decorating for the ghoulish season, households competed for the scariest yard, and everyone donned a costume. Parties, parades, porch lights aglow. Things change so quickly; blink and you might miss it. In recent years, Halloween came and went with hardly anyone noticing. A shoddy cling of a witch or ghost affixed in a window or two, a jack-o'-lantern half-heartedly carved between emails and internet scrolling, perhaps a mask or a puerile costume bought in haste—but hardly a porch light to be seen.
By M.R. Cameoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Dying Source
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Instead of the crystal clearness that flowed through the land for thousands of years, the water was now so murky, you couldn't see the rocky bottom, much less an inch into it. The trees were withering away, turning the branches into daggers to stab at the darkening sky. Skeletal creatures roamed about, snarling, hungry and ready to pounce on anything. Veins of power, all coming from a single spot, once an illuminating golden, were now gray. Thick fog blanketed the nightmarish landscape, more smothering than comforting.
By Alexandria Stanwyckabout a year ago in Fiction
Because of the Biscuits
I grew up on a farm. My daddy was a farmer. My four older brothers followed in his footsteps, helping on the farm. Naturally, as a girl at the time, I was expected to cook and feed everyone in the family with my mother usually at my left elbow. Don’t get me wrong, I liked cooking and I loved my family but there were days when I was just tired of, what seemed like, bottomless stomachs. Every morning, I would wake up to milk the cow and bring the milk in to make buttermilk biscuits.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Fiction
The Earth Show
“Here it is, folks! Just as you remember it, with all the laughter, all the tears... all the glory and all the gory... all the sex and all the slaughter... all the love and all the loathing... this is the show you can’t miss, the one you can’t ignore because you were all in it! You are the stars of the show, you humans, here at the Cosmic Carnival of Humanity! Here’s your final chance to feel the fear except this time you know it’s not real! Ride the Earth roller coaster one last time here at The Earth Show! Any time, any place you wanna go in Earth history, even before you humans became the stars! Five billion years to choose from! Come one, come all, and just for you it’s all FREE!”
By Renee Y Brownabout a year ago in Fiction
The day the river ran backward. Content Warning.
The river ran backward on the day the Queen vanished. The river was always the Queen's favorite place. She'd sit on a rock, dipping her toes in to let the fish nibble on them. So, it was no surprise that her favorite scholar, Kai, immediately noticed that the river began fleeing when the Queen wasn't anywhere to be found. It also helped that she left a note—"Follow the river," it had said, but of course, the river led out of the kingdom and into the deep woods.
By Digi Dragon 05 (Or Digi or Revely)about a year ago in Fiction
The Shadow in the Hall
I see you pacing the halls, meandering among the living dead as they are wheeled into these rooms of 'healing'; are you here to save us or condemn us? Within these white walls you hear us moan and scream, wail and cry. Is our lament your fuel - your life?
By Amanda Starksabout a year ago in Fiction
