Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Distant shores
The entire city felt the heatwave break in the night, as did the birds. The gulls started to pick up despite the hour; closer to morning than evening. Sheets lay unused on the floor, tossed from the bed so as not to touch her skin as it sweltered. Languidly she migrated from the bed to the window, draping herself on the thick ledge and letting the cool air melt over her naked body. A sigh of relief escaped her.
By Skye Moffett2 years ago in Fiction
The AI Attack on Humanity
This dream haunted me for years. It seemed like I couldn't go not even one night without this same dream. Sometimes, something new would happen but the little boy was always with me. I still cannot figure out who he was. Perhaps he was my son in a past life?
By Julie Stull2 years ago in Fiction
Paralysis
She was there. Like she always had been, as if she were created immediately following the big bang. Waiting for him. Her long brown hair twisted and danced wildly in the lack of gravity. She was hauntingly beautiful, but her face was a look of terror and desperation. She mouthed wordless shouts, Ron only could assume she was yelling by the way the veins bulged in her neck.
By Jordan Flynn2 years ago in Fiction
Broken Glass
Of all the students Mr. Benedick expected to see in his office, he did not expect the boy who was sitting there. What grade was this one, he thought? He walked over to his desk, looked at the folder Ms. Diner had left out for him, and opened it. There was a photo inside of it, taken from last year’s picture day. Not much growth; not too different. The boy sitting in front of him had nothing strange or unusual in his file, if a child’s life defined by having “nothing disruptive or regretful” in it could be called fine. Mr. Benedick also realized that “life” was an anagram of “file,” and wondered where that thought came from as he stared at the boy in front of him. Benny Duncan. Grade Four. Beloved by all his teachers so far. He had seen the boy playing with the other boys his age in the school yard at recess. Four Square and foot hockey. A normal-looking kid. A normal kid… And here he was, after a very stupid moment with the fire alarm and a shoe.
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Fiction
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons. Content Warning.
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Hulbert2 years ago in Fiction
