Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Fish Face
Is it safe? Is it safe? It must be safe. I don’t hear any fishing lures plunking into the water or boats with trolling motors plying the surface of my lake. Yes, I said my lake, even though these air-breathing humans treat it and those of us living in its water as theirs. I have been battling with one of them for almost ten years. He started this war, but he’ll never win.
By Mark Gagnon2 years ago in Fiction
Change
She looked at her son. He was a man now really. Moments came when she saw glimpses of the boy he once was but rarely and they were snatched by her when he didn't know that he was being scrutinised by someone trying to make sense of who this person was, what he would become.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
The Kampung Lottery
Prologue In days of old in Southeast Asia, a kampong was a village of largely makeshift houses consisting of zinc roofs and other materials people could use to construct their homes. Such villages were common all over South East Asia, and each had a thriving community spirit. This one, perhaps, had one that thrived a little too well.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 years ago in Fiction
A Precis in Abridgement
i have become a sojourner in this multi-dimensional world of virtue and temptation and within which a floral garden flourishes...life is wonderful, for here, beauty thrives ...untamed and free...gentle golden butterflies flitter with each breath sweetly taken...cleansing gasps greet the lungs with the purest of oxygenated bliss...
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
SIR DORAN
The fire cracks and spits, offering light and the illusion of solace, but Sir Doran feels no warmth. He sits on a fallen tree and watches the fire as he rests his hands on the pommel of his sword, its blade chipped and worn, more symbolic than functional. Much like Sir Doran himself.
By Aaron Morrison2 years ago in Fiction
I am Jack's tumour
I've always been able to See things, as long as I can remember. Small snippets of insight. Flashes I call them. That's what they are. Quick. Sometimes big, sometimes small. Could be what a stranger ate for breakfast, or what your nana said to you before she died. I've always accepted it as part of who I am.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
