Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
An Open Book
I meandered along the twisting paths that weaved between trees and shrubs, flower gardens and Koi ponds all of which comprise our splendid city park. Every ray of sunshine burst into a rainbow of color as it struck the grass coated in morning dew. All my senses sparked to life as I drank in the beauty of this perfect day. Days such as these are what make life worth living, or so I thought at the time.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
Subtle Shift of Shadow
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. The last time I saw a real face was about a month ago. Before that, it was twenty-two years ago when I was six months old—too young to remember anything. At six months, they seal your eyes with a veil, and virtual perfection becomes your reality. We lived in a curated world, allocated experiences, attributes, and education by the Custodian Congress. Our existence was blissful, devoid of crime, pain, and anxiety—a film set of beautiful Stepford people against lush landscapes.
By Teresa Rentonabout a year ago in Fiction
Incense and Iron
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Upon the keep of Tehmota Castle, gears within the ancient astrological clock ground past each other into an alignment not seen in a millennia. This night would usher forth a new era.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
Reflections
Snick! The door clicks closed. I can’t see her yet; she is too far away, the lighting too low. But I know it is her – recognise the way the shadows drape around her, shielding her from prying eyes. And so, I wait, patiently. It’s what I do: I sit, and I wait, and when she is near…
By Veronica Stoneabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secret Life of a Miniature Dragon
Draconis gobbled the dry, hard kibble from his bowl until his forked tongue flicked against the reflective bottom. He stared at his own image: the proud brow ridges protruding over the compact, multicolored eyes; the slits for nostrils opening and closing slowly in rhythm with his breathing; and his sharp fangs dripping with saliva after his not-so-savory meal. By all accounts, Draconis was a vicious beast—except for his size.
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a year ago in Fiction
Two Truths And A Lie
I’m nobody’s fool. You wouldn’t survive five minutes in this business if you were. And it doesn’t matter if you’re as savvy as the Artful Dodger, if they catch even a whiff of spring grass about your feet they’ll try and have one over on you. This year, I’ve got twins in my class, monozygotic bloody twins. They’re the worst. They’re not those twins who try and carve out their own identities either. These two work their identical credentials like the Weasley’s, if the Weasley’s were black, and girls, and non-magical. Charity and Joy.
By Hannah Mooreabout a year ago in Fiction
