Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
The Blinking Reality
The beeping invades my mind like a probe, a thin, needle-sharp sound boring into my skull. I try to open my eyes but they are taped shut, and the thin adhesive pulls uncomfortably at my skin. Then I hear the nurse say, ‘You are safe; you are in the hospital. Please try to relax.’
By Sam H Arnold4 months ago in Fiction
Chemtrails
I lay in the grass, blades tickling the back of my ears and the nape of my neck. The sky is streaked with cirrus clouds, wispy and waif-like. Something stands out among them, though—a little airplane. It travels softly through the sky. It is slow and without care. Though it seems to last forever—a tiny snail slugging its way across the open sidewalk—if you missed it passing by you might have never known it was there.
By Raine Neal4 months ago in Fiction
The Legend of Long-Shanks
Goody Patience had just laid her head upon the pillow when it happened. For a moment, she believed she were dreaming, so she rolled over and paid it no heed. Her eyes snapped open again the same second she closed them, however, when she heard it once more: a sharp knock-knock-knocking on the front door downstairs.
By Natalie Gray4 months ago in Fiction
Public Speaking - Trauma
Public speaking can be difficult, even if you take a speech class in high school. I no longer picture people in the audience in their underwear, or look at one person in the audience, or look over everyone's head, or look at the back of the room.
By Denise E Lindquist4 months ago in Writers
Thorn in My Side
The nurse practitioner looked at Paula’s side to inspect the mole of concern. It wasn’t exactly on her side; the lesion in question was a bit more around her right side toward her back. She had become concerned because, as best as she could see by the acrobatic twisting she needed to do using two mirrors, it had changed in the last month.
By Gerard DiLeo4 months ago in Fiction
Maybe I still see rockets in the sky
I remember looking to the sky in my youth and thinking every plane a rocket, every bird a dragon, every wind a whistle, light and high. The trees would sway in the breeze and I would sway with them, the connection between us something I could feel in my bones, but never say aloud. I never said very much then, but I felt it all: the immensity of this world as a child within it. I remember pulling back coarse branches and parting prickly bushes; I remember how my hands felt in the mud, grass tickling against my palms, my fingers caked with dirt. I remember the feel of the smooth, cool rocks, the wriggling of worms, the smell of rain in the air. I remember my early winters, bundled in jackets and scarves, lying face first in the snow, wishing never to leave.
By angela hepworth4 months ago in Writers
