Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Winter
This is a work of fiction written by Isabella Rose on 12/3/2025. Those who know me can easily understand the truth. His texts were few and far between as the illness slowly but steadily hijacked his mind. She wanted to scream, “Why are you leaving me,” but she knew he was dying and there was nothing she could do, but watch.
By Isabella Roseabout a month ago in Fiction
Her Last Room. Runner-Up in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
I stand face-to-frontal with this latched door. Somehow, its hold over me is more than the sum of my cerebral parts. The door senses my hesitancy to move beyond it, to cross a threshold, to clasp its cold handle as a first steppingstone. They say the maiden stage of grief is the hardest part.
By Edward Swaffordabout a month ago in Fiction
92 First Avenue
I walked slowly to the house that I had grown up in, and I noticed how it had changed in appearance from my childhood. I eyed the three concrete steps that connected to the sidewalk, that went up across the yard to the front porch. I hesitated, I don’t even know why, but it was an end of an era I suppose.
By Susan Paytonabout a month ago in Fiction
A Christmas Glitch
The twins were dead. Our hero knew it, and you may imagine that a little something in him unclenched when he saw the news on his screen. Now, at last, he was truly free of them, and the knowledge was like a sigh. Were he a balloon animal, one segment of his torso (or his neck, or one intestinal-esque limb) would have gently unscrewed itself. His heart and lungs lost a little creak that he didn't even know he'd been carrying.
By L.C. Schäferabout a month ago in Fiction
Free Your Mind
John Hope opened his eyes and found himself lying on a stiff mattress. The mattress was striped and worn out and was covered by a grey comforter that felt like a scratch pad on John’s back. He sat up on the bed and looked ahead and was greeted by the sight of iron doors. John was in a jail cell, but he couldn’t recall why. “What am I doing here?” He thought to himself. “I didn’t commit a crime. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t even have a criminal record. So why am I in a jail cell?”
By Joe Patterson2 months ago in Fiction
The Museum of a Lost Girls Life. Winner in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
Marie Wildapple spent the first ten summers of her life in the embrace of Veilwood Valley. She arrived there first in the house of Aunt Gabrielle as a toddler with chocolate smeared cheeks and grass-stained knees, trailing after a mother too young to properly belong to anyone, including her own daughter.
By Imola Tóthabout a month ago in Fiction
Hall of Memories. Content Warning.
On September 20th, 2019, I called an Uberxl. On previous days I had been secretly packing my belongings in garbage bags and putting them outside the side door. At around 4 A.M. the car showed up, and I loaded it with my belongings and headed to my new home. This was the day I escaped my old home and my parents. I was 35.
By Sid Aaron Hirji2 months ago in Fiction
