Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
The Beetle and the Butterfly
There was once a beautiful butterfly. He flew above all the other insects with ease, his skirt-wings billowing in the breeze. He was a most brilliant red. The same red as the roses and tulips he would delicately sip from. The tips of his wings were adorned with complex circles of yellow and blue that shined in the sunlight - all accented with ink blots of darkest black.
By ThatWriterWomanabout a year ago in Fiction
Stranger
The word hospital comes from the Latin word hospes meaning guest or stranger. Patient comes from pator, another Latin word meaning suffer. It makes sense that by placing the two words together the result describes a place where strangers that are suffering go for care. Logically, it was precisely where Remi belonged. He had been in town for less than an hour, so he qualified as a stranger, and he was suffering. It was a pain that started in the depths of his soul and radiated through every cell of his body. Maybe, possibly, hopefully, he could find relief in this place of healing.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
Knights of Vocaldom
They seemed an endless horde across that morning field. Soulless soldiers of metal, animated by greed, stood row by row as fog filled the narrow valley. The endless ranks of automatons had long assaulted their realm, and yet today they would be held. The enemy bore no banners, for there was no cause nor honor to them.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The Rich Man's Clothes
An emperor who had no clothes was once gifted with a rich man's attire. Wearing them seemed like a breeze in the air covering his soul. His steps quickened and the marvellous seemed possible. Even his daydreams seemed remarkable but there was nowhere to put them so he stuffed his hands in his pockets. With no touch to his senses, the world became cloudy - no gift giving his new point of view. Through the mind of an apple, his thoughts grew...if only I can. The apple became a new world he could almost taste. Then he realized that the apple and the clothes were not his own, nor the windswept thoughts between the threads. So he made bare his mortality and walked naked in the sunlight.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelleabout a year ago in Fiction
To Catastrophize. Runner-up in Unreliable Challenge. Content Warning.
A cacophony of cicada songs slowly rises from the trees outside the window you slide open as if hostile to your presence. Their eerie buzzing floats on the breeze that suddenly picks up and sends leaves into flight against a backdrop of storm clouds. The wind ruffles your hair and you shiver. Slam the window closed again; you don't like rain these days.
By Bethany Larsonabout a year ago in Fiction
Liar. Content Warning.
Glasses clink. Laughter rises and falls, following the ebb and flow of conversation as the tides do the rising and setting of the moon. Overheard, light slowly fades, the blazing glow of the sun pulling darkness behind it like a blanket draped across a world soon to sleep.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
My Murderer
I know who did it, who murdered me. Though, does it really matter? According to the “Stipulations,” to seek vengeance means an endless Hell. Reparation doesn’t seem to satisfy my unforeseen interim either, given that I’d still be gone. This sort of dilemma is exactly why I avoided dependency in human interaction in the first place. Nonetheless, it seems my attempts to live my life solely about my own ambitions, keeping my business my own, was in vain.
By Hyde Wunderli about a year ago in Fiction
He Took it All Back
When he walked across the lawn, thirty-two-year-old Nixon Carruthers knew the lights along the path led home. His darkness and tallness set him apart from most other financial professionals in his arena. High cheekbones and a Nubian nose painted a portrait of a man who looked keen on showing a different face from the crowd. He called Delaware his home because he had lived in the state all his life. After going to New Sweden University in Wilmington, there would be a stay in New York City. No, it was Wyoming. He knew better than to go to the big city and establish roots as a private equity trader. It was in the West that he made his fortune. He had earned tens of millions of dollars in the span of just two years. As he ambled up the walkway, he thought about his days of flyfishing and learning Jiu Jitsu.
By Skyler Saundersabout a year ago in Fiction
Big Game Tonight
I couldn’t sleep last night. Haven’t slept well in a minute, to be honest. At three in the morning, I opted to give up staring at the cracks in the ceiling to instead stare at my laptop screen and the mounds of opened and unopened white envelopes spread like dying angels’ wings across my kitchen table. I can hear my husband sleeping like a fat baby in the other room, the sounds of his snoring reverberating through the thin apartment walls. I imagine little waves in my black coffee rippling through every guttural breath that comes out of him, and I form the outline of what should have been a smirk on the corner of my lips.
By Bryan Buffkinabout a year ago in Fiction
