Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Where’s your heart?
Why? What are these dreams? For the last few months I’ve been having what I consider a nightmare. You’d think being without any family for 13 years is a nightmare. Ever since the world fell to chaos because of petty disagreements between countries, I’ve been searching this hell for some type of life form. At least one that isn’t trying to turn me into human mashed potatoes.
By Althea Doe3 years ago in Fiction
Alive
My father had told me that the silence was wrong. The forest was once full of life, he had said, and that life would tell travelers when the sun was about to rise. He talked to me about how birds and insects would begin to sing to greet the new day, and the vitality the sun brought with it. Walking down the road with the remains of the silent forest spread out for miles on both sides of me, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought- the sheer absurdity of any living thing greeting their slow death with a cheerful song. Then again, here I am laughing at my own morbid thoughts on a deserted highway. Maybe the animals weren’t wrong after all.
By Joseph Piecuch3 years ago in Fiction
Memories
The jingling sound of metal on metal woke Jordy with a start. He peered out from under the fallen pile of brick and rotting wood that probably used to be the outside wall of a house. This small pocket underneath the debris was his shelter last night. The sound was moving away from him but that didn’t mean anything. He had almost been caught once by assuming that no more noise meant safe to come out. It didn’t, not any more. He stayed where he was, breathing through his mouth and searched the lightening gloom of predawn for the source of the noise. Raiders? Travelers? Trader? If it was a trader, he could use some supplies.
By Ken Stewart3 years ago in Fiction
Rat Duty
Jacob walked with the practiced ease of a man who learned his environment from years of repetition. He knew when to duck beneath hammocks, when to suck in his belly to get through tight hallways piled high with equipment, and when to keep his hands on his belongings to stave off pickpockets. Jacob was skinny enough to make traveling in the tight confines of the bunker easy, yet tall enough that he had developed a stoop to avoid hitting his head against the ceiling. His beard had grown beyond military discipline, but it was a minor protest they allowed so long as he completed his duties. He’d been a librarian before the bombs fell, but the powers that be assigned him to a life of rat duty. Day-in and day-out, rodents were chewing their way through the steel walls of the bunker, and it was Jacob’s role to keep them out.
By Max Russell3 years ago in Fiction
A Mother’s Heart
Amy knew not to sit still too long in this spot. She crouched behind the rusty ,blue Dodge and crawled off into the tree line at the edge of Summersville’s remnants. She stopped again after a few feet of sprinting in the pine needles and dead leaves to sit in the cold and catch her breath. She thought of her mom again.
By Ashlee Hale3 years ago in Fiction
Into the (H)aether
The morning bloomed through the heather. A soft morning, with the sky cast like a child’s breath on a fogged up, window of a ’93 chevy, flying down the coastline to escape the summer’s heat. My name was also Heather. It was an error in the Simulation, that I had been named after the scene in the Sim, in another life I would have probably found the oversight funny but the humour had been wrung out of me, quite some time ago. Now I just blankly held the clothes up to the line and followed the cracks in the Sim with my finger, wondering when I would be let out, when my purpose would come.
By J.R. Nelson 3 years ago in Fiction
Delusion
A locket. A fucking heart shaped locket. It's worthless to anyone except me. Pictures missing and it’s faded to shit, but it’s all I have from before. My name, John, is written on the front, even though it is starting to wear off. I know it’s super important to me, but all memories are jaded living in this new world. After who-knows-how-long, I’ve forgotten who I used to be. But still, you gotta take it one day at a time. Survival ain’t what it was like before. When the end started Mother Earth went haywire, plants erupted and over grew everything. Earthquakes changed the tectonic plates. Mountains were formed that never should have. Oceans levels rose super high, to the point where everything that once was, could be no more. But now, the world has dried up, everything is dying rapidly. It’s the end for not just us, but earth herself. Those of us still alive are seeing what’s really at the end. Just more death. Maybe that’s what we are all looking for, peace before we die. Hope is starting to flee more and more. Oh well. “We make the best of it, don’t we Ben?” I ask the man sitting behind me. He’s just out of sight, but I know he’s awake like me, he always is. At least I’m with the person that’s been with me since the end started, Ben. I follow what he tells me, it’s kept me alive for this long. He knows what to do.
By Carlos B. Varela3 years ago in Fiction
The Descent
May somethingth, 2022. "I never should have picked up this damned locket... As I write this journal entry, I curse myself for my own stupidity. Always the scavenger, of course I picked it up. Of course I did. Stupid, stupid, stupid! It was so pretty, and practically begged for me to take it, especially with that glowing red thing in the center! I swore I saw its ruby light for miles before I finally found it and more. For three days it haunted me, called to me, and I followed its call and searched for it.
By Aerial Jo Henderson3 years ago in Fiction
Rainy Days and Mondays
“Shit!” I stuffed my notebook and laptop into my bag, nervously checking the radar app on my phone. “There’s no way he didn’t hear that thunder.” The angry red blotch of rain with the yellow halo was heading our way, and there wasn’t much dry time left. I packed up the last of the Oreos and pretzels and panic started to creep into my head.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Fiction