Top Stories
Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Stormgrove
Before. Before your ignorance we stood tall. Before. Before you, we were the amused. The horned beetles slowly multiplying, speckled resting doe, the golden autumn Cantharellus, the wild swine lumbering toward the ponds edge, all so enchanting. Before you. The swaggering moose, drunk from fermented apples found respite here, with owl, wolf, fox, hare, even the very smallest cells of life found refuge in our bows. Yet you pushed on. Our youngest branches, our eldest and wise were stolen from our families, broken, savagely contorted into what you wanted; was it needed? A shelter from the storm we gave you; the sky dark, yet brilliant with constellations that brought us joy, threatened you. How? Our children were your protection from the winds off the sea, the frigid, unforgiving cold; yet we believed. We believed because all who face decimation must. We are ringed in our matter, our full restitution embedded. We did not erase our homecoming! We mourned our trust lost, or could it be, we saw you as one, in the natural order of existence and you failed to hear us?
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 years ago in Fiction
We Remember. Runner-Up in Whispering Woods Challenge.
She is uneasy. I can smell it. The grey one is talking to her softly in the shrinking light. We will move soon, not away from the strange trees, but into them. This seems bad to me. They are older than the other trees and smell angry and strong. There is ample food, clean and rapid water, and there is a friendly bitch in a hut close to the ravine I would like to get to know. We do not need to go in order to live.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
The Trees . Content Warning.
I got a new job in the Great Smoky Mountains along the Appalachian mountain range as a search and rescue officer. I was on a call for a little girl who ran off the trail and got lost when this whole mess started. My partner and I grabbed our gear and radios before heading out. This call should have been easy, most kids stay put and cry until found, but this time it was different. We set off on the Kephart Prong Trail in high hopes.
By Haylee Marick2 years ago in Fiction
From Ashes The Whispers Grow
A single spark danced along the wind as the leaves rustled, whispering their fears of the danger that would soon be released upon the Emerald Forest, hidden deep within the realms of the abandoned lands. Once upon a fairytale, kings and queens roamed these lands, seeking counsel with the ancient souls living in the trees. The magic still hung in the air, but it was a dark and evil spirit that clung to the remnants of this enchanted world.
By KA Stefana 2 years ago in Fiction
The Pastel Prairie
He came back to himself at the top of the rise. This hill, he knew, was the horizon he had seen his horse disappearing over. At first glance at what lay beyond, he drooped. The view was the same in front as behind, except the horizon was a whole lot farther away again. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get to this one; the journey had seemed plodding and endless.
By Mark E. Cutter2 years ago in Fiction
I Sing To Them. Content Warning.
I sing to them, the dear little children. With my feet. There is something about the sound that twists around inside their adorable heads and pulls all the right switches. I sing into the mist curling through the forest, and I can feel, in my gut and blood and bones, how it reaches them in their dreams.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
I Promise
I wasn’t even going to go to the party that night. There had been some people yelling and waving signs on the corner by my apartment this past week, the usual bigotted nonsense, and I didn’t want to deal with them. The only reason I ended up leaving was because Gemma forced her way through my front door and refused to leave my living room until I put on “real people clothes” and came out with her.
By Katie Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
Two Bus Tickets
Jeremy sat on a bench outside the bus station while the snow fell softly. Holding two tickets to the city in his hand, his heart was pounding. He used his savings to buy the tickets, and they would live off the rest. He looked at his watch, wondering where Colt was. They were supposed to meet at the bus stop fifteen minutes ago, and Colt wasn’t there yet.
By J. Delaney-Howe2 years ago in Fiction
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Bridge Over Troubled Water. Content Warning.
At 29, you'd think I would have felt an overabundance of emotion by now. But, I haven’t. Each day, I maneuvered mechanically neither awake nor sleep. My life has been one dimensional and gray. It's been lukewarm. And it's essence has completely passed me by. My name is Gabriel. And this is my story.
By Jennifer David2 years ago in Fiction
