Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
All is Fair in Love and War
My gas-mask rolls from my bag as I rush through the London underground, sirens wailing, announcing impending German bombs. Cowering from the thunderous noise, I clutch John's medal tightly, remembering when we said goodbye. John and I married three months before war broke out, and like a good man he didn't hesitate to sign up. If only he knew what was to come. Newspapers hide the horror stories, but other wives at the factory all have their tales to tell. Sons, husbands and fathers return blinded or maimed, or worse, killed overseas in a ditch in France.
Inseparable Steel
Inseparable Steel - Chapter III The wagon train had reduced its numbers down to 85. They rolled on another three days with everyone sleeping in their wagons each night. It was time to stop for a full rest. Everyone had begun unloading their gear to set up camp for a couple of days.
Colin Munro WoodPublished 8 minutes ago in Fiction
Home or Away
"Laurence Kenworth!" I stumbled across the slick wooden floorboards in my soggy boots, trying to keep my head down as I made my way towards the Lieutenant's gruff voice calling my name.
Kirsty MacleodPublished 11 minutes ago in Fiction
Let the Interrogations Begin
Dear Colleagues It is hard to believe that my first update was only ten days ago. Like many of the older generation, I remember the twelve-day weeks of my youth fondly. Today’s students must cram so much more into a ten day week than we ever did. I admire their dedication.
A Rouge Barrister
To some I am a miracle worker, to others, I am the scum of the Earth. Well, both those opinions can be true depending on who my client is, and as for today? Today my client is thirty-five-year-old Anthony Mills, an elegy murder and pedophile. So already I know which of the two opinions are going to be flung around the media today and for the next six weeks.
Andrew FlanaganPublished 15 minutes ago in Fiction
Falling
I dwell on the border of the abyss. Above me is an eternal blue and below me is a pitch-black void. The great blue and the great black, stretch endlessly in every direction to which I roam for food and mate.
Daniel AvilaPublished 18 minutes ago in FictionLa Cazadora
Olive plunged down deep into the water and felt a fizz of bubbles, the ocean rushing up the meet her. Panic rose in her chest. She flailed her arms and legs, trying to steady herself and she fought the desperate urge to breathe.
Elissa DawsonPublished 19 minutes ago in Fiction
Drive
Gray gravel crunches as I rev the worn out truck up the narrow driveway. Leafy branches swing overhead and undergrowth moves in layers around the dirt path. I sigh as the front tires bounce over a pothole. It's way too late...no, way too early to be getting home. When are these 4 o'clock in the morning arrivals going to stop? Never. I hear myself answer my own question. They will stop when you're dead. God, why do I become so macabre when I'm tired? Why do I talk to myself?
Candice LangoPublished 30 minutes ago in Fiction
The Polaroid Picture
The words had left her lips with ease, and they were carried across the room with the joy in her voice. Time itself seemed to slow as I watched those nine simple words reach my ears, and cause me to question everything I had ever known. This must be some kind of mistake, I thought; but the longer my eyes lingered on the photo in front of us, the less sure I became of anything. How the photo had made its way to me, I wasn't sure of, either; all I knew is that it appeared at the bottom of a brown, paper-covered box.
Maeple FourestPublished about an hour ago in Fiction
SHELBY AND tHEiR WONDERDOG
"Good Boy," said Mom, and Charlie tilted his head into the behind-the-ear scratches. "Tell me about that day again," said Shelby and folded into the chair next to Charlie. "One more time, pretty please, before you go senile and forget everything."
A Day Too Late
The humidity of the day had already seeped through Cassie’s hair and clothes, something she could never get used to. Moving to the south was her husband’s idea, and Cassie much preferred the climate of Seattle. She would rather a rainy day than full sun, 100 plus degrees, and humidity that made you feel like you were leaning over an oven. Damn him, she thought to herself as she walked down to the mailbox.
Maggie ThoemkePublished about 16 hours ago in FictionThe Bluest App
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” “It’s an app.” “I can see that. Some kinda game? Tunes? But you ain’t got no earbuds for that sorry-ass celly of yours.”
Scott BlackmerPublished about 17 hours ago in Fiction
