Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
The Metamorphosis of Bird
Bird first noticed it in the mirror on Tuesday morning—a small dark spot on her left palm, like a beauty mark she'd never had before. She picked at it with her fingernail, but it wouldn't budge. It felt hard beneath her skin, like a seed waiting to sprout.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Horror
Wayne, An underrated, Under viewed, Gem.
These days, a good TV show is incredibly hard to find; my Netflix watch history could probably prove my point. It’s because of this rarity that I’m here to tell you about a true diamond in the rough and its title is “Wayne”.
By 𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 ☾4 months ago in Viva
Governments Best Friends
We've all seen them, perched on high wires or rooftops, staring at the world below. Crows congregate in small groups, and when one departs the murder, another quickly takes its place. Have you ever asked yourself what they are looking for and who they are reporting their observations to?
By Mark Gagnon4 months ago in Fiction
I've Always Been Near
Thank you for inviting me to your Unofficial Vocal Challenge, RHC! Greetings, sweet morsel. You've never seen me before, but I know you quite well. I have been with you for 2 years, 11 months, and 28 days. You haven't bothered to notice, but our third anniversary is coming, right along with your mother's death. But I've watched you since the day you were born. Before mummy wasn't there to protect you...I was always near.
By Hope Martin4 months ago in Fiction
Knock Knock
Decked out in fleece sweats, sitting on a newly purchased faux leather sofa in a retro brown, Mereille looks around. Not too bad. Boxes fill the room but she’s managed to find a packet of microwave popcorn. Bayou lays curled at her feet, snoring lightly as she shovels a handful of movie-style buttered popcorn into her mouth. Just as she lifts a plastic cup of Zinfandel, a knock at the door, startles both the phone and wine out of her hands.
By Cathy Schieffelin4 months ago in Fiction
Rachel Reviews: Lost Letters by Tom Hapgood
Tom Hapgood's book is a lot of things. It has history, both twentieth century and prior; it has youth and the coming-of-age; it has, through its characters' situations, a discussion of the health concerns that can encroach as life continues inexorably towards death; and it has the secrets that lurk in the family vault, just waiting to be uncovered and brought to the surface.
By Rachel Deeming4 months ago in BookClub
I am Bexley: The Bloodletters Scourge Chapter 28 Fish
This journey has truly made me feel the full weight of what tired actually means. There’s something about this fresh air that is slowly making me feel what it means to be alive, feeling every step I take, and ever since my husband touched my stomach, I am feeling a squirming. It’s something else that’s a part of me, but not me. Am I carrying a baby? How is this possible? I am so confused.
By Melissa Ingoldsby4 months ago in Fiction
Knotted Roots - Part 2
My sweat-soaked and mud-stained shirt draped over Spot’s saddle, as Grace and I walked with our arms linked. The burnt amber glow behind the mountains quickly faded, and the starry night and full moon illuminated our dirt trail. For a few minutes, we walked silently, both of us keeping a curious eye on the sky, as if hoping this moment would never end. “You know, I don’t think I mentioned this before, but…” Grace hesitated, a small smile shadowed by the brim of her hat, which was pulled upwards as her eyes watched our boots. “It’s really nice having you back.” She stated, a slight hint of relief in her voice, peering upwards towards me to meet my eyes, as I looked over at her. Unable to really respond, I smiled at her as the stubble from my beard prickled my cheeks. I wish I were here because I truly wanted to be here, not out of remorse from a dying father. But what kind of son would I be if I allowed his legacy to die, to let him die alone? Ever since mom passed, he was always focused on the ranch. I grew weary of it all and wanted to experience life outside of this country lifestyle. Would Grace understand that? Should I tell her? Deciding to shake off the uneasiness, I decided to push that conversation off for another time. “Yeah, Grace, it’s good to be home.” Her eyes sparkled under the night sky, lulling me into her warmth. I placed my hand on her arm, as if assuring her. “Remember when we would run through the wildflowers?” She began, “You mean, chasing you for stealing my lasso?” With a shared moment of laughter she continued, “Okay, I may have borrowed…” “Borrowed? Is that what we call it now?” I teased. “Okay, first off, I at least know how to use a lasso!” Her snarky recoil caused a shift in me, a warmth in my center. The truth is, I missed Grace, but I didn’t miss the painful memories from losing my mom and now my ill father. “Second,” She continued, and her voice faded as I became consumed by her witty playfulness, the way her dimples revealed her bluff. “You think you can lasso better than me?!” I asked her, my voice low, husky. We came to a stop, my eyes challenging her, my smile welcoming. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were presenting a challenge.” Grace had moved in a way where we were facing each other, her voice low, alluring as her accent still thick. She leaned inwards and shifted upwards from her tiptoes. “You know I love a good competition.” The way her smile grew and the feeling of pure electricity between us intensified. Tucking a loose blonde curl behind Grace’s ear, I cupped her chin in my rough hand, her skin soft and radiant. “Jasper…” The breathlessness in her voice was being restrained by something, “Yes, my kitten…” My eyes darkened, my mouth dry. “I…” “Grace!” A male’s voice rang out, cutting the tension between us, a voice I didn’t recognize. My face, shadowed and hidden by my hat brim, hid my annoyance from Grace, a moment to adjust before she could see. “Who’s that little kitten?” Her head hung low and then upwards with a reassuring smile, one that was almost apologetic in a way, “That’s uh, well…” “There you are, Grace!” A lean, muscled man came running up, his jeans dark and clean, his boots without a scuff, his blonde wavy hair tucked behind his ears, a loose white button-down shirt tucked behind an oversized belt buckle. He swept by me, embracing her in his arms, spinning her around as her feet lifted from the ground. “I thought something had happened to you…” “Greg, I…I’m just fine, and I can stand on my own; you needn’t sweep me up like that.” Grace clamored with poise and elegance as she charmingly demanded to be put down. This Greg, whoever he was, doesn’t appear to be a cowboy; he’s too clean-cut, too polished. “Oh! I’m sorry, man, I was just so caught up seeing my little sunshine here, I lost my manners. The name’s Greg, Greg Combs.” He extended his hand, reluctantly, I shook his hand. It was like waving a limp noodle, as my firm hand squeezed his as if silently warning him. “Jasper Black.” My tone was sharp like a blade. “Well, Grace, it looks like you’ll find your way from here,” I said as I gave Spot a few pats. Tipping my hat to Grace respectfully, I walked off towards my porch, digging my hands in my pockets, not looking back. Of course she had a boyfriend; hell, he could be her husband for all I know! I don't want to ruin her any more than I already have. I realized as my boots thudded across the wooden porch, I left more than just my father that day. I left her.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
