Fiction
Calling all Ernest Hemingways, Toni Morrisons, Stephen Kings, Octavia Butlers, and James Baldwins of the world - Fiction is the place for your stories to run wild.
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Bump in the Night
Bump in the Night: Basics for Beginning Monsters 1. Belief is the most important thing. You only exist so long as they believe in you. Lose that belief and you lose yourself.
Rachal FlewellenPublished 11 days ago in Fiction
A Place Once Called Home
The house looked a bit more run-down than Abigail remembered it, despite it only having been a few years since she’d been there. It had been mostly left alone, the only fully intact house on the street. All the others had broken windows, wide-open doors, or had been partially incinerated. This house, however, was still standing, with nothing but a couple cracks in the windows and a bit of moss growing on the roof.
Reyna CondonPublished 12 days ago in Fiction
A Day in the Life
Alice sat outside the Hungarian pastry cafe, sipping her black coffee and smoking her self-rolled cigarette. She liked neither the coffee nor the cigarette, but life was about suffering wasn’t it? And besides, she imagined a scruffy-headed, forgets-to-eat-thin type of man walking by, looking over at her, and thinking… “now there’s a cool chick who gets it.” She wanted to look like she got it, because she did. Life was absurd, so we should just drive ourselves into the ground sooner rather than later.
Not Safe For Work
It is a Tuesday and on Tuesdays I feel like dying. Not to be dramatic, really, people would describe me as anything but that. Morbid, maybe. That makes more sense.
Jess SambucoPublished 13 days ago in Fiction
Theoracism: It Starts
The young man rejoiced. He had passed the test. Though the material he had spent long hours studying differed significantly from the material on the test, he’d still managed to earn an A+ with extra credit points beside. A thick green 110% had appeared on his tablet screen, and he’d had to curb his excitement to keep from leaping out of his seat and cheering like a sports fan in an arena.
Skyler SaundersPublished 13 days ago in Fiction
An Introduction to Beni Teeter
My name is Beni Teeter, and I’m here to tell you about the Game. It was our secret for a long time, because Momma said folks fear what they don’t understand, and malevolence follows fear as predictably as the cart follows the horse. Now I’m not suggesting we lied, or that we withheld facts of national importance. Nothing as fancy as all that.
PJ JackelmanPublished 13 days ago in Fiction
Husk
Husk The birds don’t come here anymore—not since the burned-out husk appeared in the woods. No one knows how it came to be here. The grass in the clearing is green, the surrounding trees unmarred. Yet the car’s innards are scattered about like this was a crime scene someone tried to obliterate.
Svetlana SterlinPublished 13 days ago in Fiction
By an Illusion's Fickle Thread
I sift through the panels of prospective partners and wonder just what the hell my mother was thinking with this charade. The pictures don't matter—women showing off their teeth in white arrays, hairstyles that defy the imagination (and gravity), too little or too much make-up from the Generation Markets—but I find myself searching for something. That something, well, perhaps I don't exactly know what it is yet.
Jillian SpiridonPublished 13 days ago in Fiction
Genes’ Journal
July 7, 2510 It all started 5 years ago, just out of the blue 3 Celestial beings each the size of the sun or more surrounding our Earth and causing it to change into this apocalyptic hellscape we know today. I can recall exactly what I was doing on the day of the attack. My wife and I were on a vacation in New York City when suddenly, a blinding flash of light went off in the sky. We then hear tires screeching on the pavement outside, glass breaking and the echoes of countless car alarms going off around us like an orchestra of destruction throughout the entire city.
Dante MitchellPublished 4 minutes ago in Fiction
The World Ended With Her Last Breath
As he sat in the driver's seat of his pickup, Jeff took slow shallow breaths. His eyes struggled to focus as he stared at the empty passenger seat. He would never see Pam’s beautiful smile radiating from that spot ever again. He would no longer hear her nag about his fast driving or the way he would tailgate slow drivers just before he changed lanes and sped passed them. Pam would never assume control of the radio stations again. Sometimes he would get irritated when she would change the station in the middle of a song he liked. But, now that was one of the things he would miss the most. His other half, his better half was gone and he has no idea how he will be able to go on without her. For the past twenty years, she was the right side of his brain. She completed his thoughts and filled in the blanks of so many things he would forget. How can he live, much less breathe without her?
Garry HillPublished about 6 hours ago in Fiction
She Tried To Kill Us.
I stood at the top of Mount Augus, and gazed intently into space. A supply shuttle should be in sight real soon. Although monitored from the control centre, the details weren't shared for this reason - the event always gave us a thrill to see a speck emerge and grow, and then the delicious excitement of identifying the incoming shuttle. We put friendly wagers on these things: it kept us out of deeper mischief.
Angie AllanbyPublished about 7 hours ago in Fiction
The Tin Man
A gentle plume of smoke rises from a clearing within an isolated forest, a spot where the remains of the old world are at peace. A can of black beans sits empty in the embers of a near-extinguished campfire, where a solitary figure with melancholy eyes, clad in armour, stares at the tin helmet by his feet. His face is hard, dirty and covered in rough stubble, his dark disheveled hair falls limply across his brow. His stomach grumbles in agony, but the man can do nothing to sooth it. The wind washes over him and carries off with his stench, the scent of dirt and blood long unwashed. Eventually he breaks his stillness and, reaching underneath his breastplate, he pulls out a golden heart-shaped locket. With a thumb the man clicks it open, though its hinges have stiffened with time. His eyes focus on the old picture inside, at three individuals: a woman with long blonde hair cascading over a bright summer dress, a tough man with a mighty mane of hair and a perfectly groomed moustache, and a broad-shouldered individual with hair as stiff as straw. In the photo they are smiling before a great emerald statue, the features of which had worn over the years. The man’s lip trembles at the sight of them, but he fights the tears. He closes his eyes and holds the locket to his chest longingly.
Lewis HolcombePublished about 11 hours ago in FictionDark reverie
Walking down the streets I grew up in, I say hello to the fond sense of distress rising like a lazy wave in my chest. I slow my pace and, for a moment, embrace the scent of gratefulness accompanying it. I still feel. I still am myself.
The Ties That Bond Us
Kadriana struggled as she tried to peddle her way through the four inch layer of pebbles that covered the path like a stream of water. Finally she hopped off the bicycle and pushed it up the gravel road to the abandoned single story brick home. It was isolated on a side road about a mile away from the interstate. It’s only neighbors were abandoned pump jacks and mesquite covered fields. From the position of the Sun she estimated it to be around 7 pm. But, in the middle of June that West Texas heat was unrelenting even into the late hours of the night. The 24 year old hoped she could find something to quench her thirst and help her rehydrate, and maybe get a little sleep before she hit the road again. She had been on the road for three days now as she headed for Pecos, TX in search of her mom’s relatives.
Garry HillPublished about 11 hours ago in Fiction
Zeta: A New Dawn
‘Put yer gun down. Yer scarin’ ‘er.’ ‘Not half as much as she’s scaring me.’ Jimmy tried a different approach, ‘She’s just a kid.’
Harmony KentPublished about 11 hours ago in FictionGeorgina The Great
Please refer to Georgina The Great part one to catch up on the plot. This is not the start of this story, it is continued from the previous post. Thank you so much for your feedback and support.
Elijah DavisPublished about 12 hours ago in Fiction
Creators We’re Loving
The creative faces behind your favorite stories.
Rachal Flewellen
11 published stories
Reyna Condon
2 published stories
Sara Rose
10 published stories
Jess Sambuco
3 published stories
Skyler Saunders
982 published stories
PJ Jackelman
14 published stories
Svetlana Sterlin
29 published stories
Jillian Spiridon
295 published stories
Melissa Ingoldsby
137 published stories
Christina Hunter
16 published stories
Megan Clancy
35 published stories
Lena
23 published stories
