Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Heart of Death
It was 16 years ago when the world died. I was only 10 years old at the time, but I was old enough to know that the world was no longer the same. My family and I lived in a nice, small town in central Florida, nestled along the lakes on the east side of the center line of the state. I had grown up fishing, hunting, playing with my friends, riding our bikes, shooting hoops, and playing in the local Little League. It was a quiet, laid back, and easy-going type of existence. It was nice, I miss that boring life now.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Guarded
I remember that day the clearest. Waking up to my room, looking around before realizing it was the day I both dreaded to come and still couldn’t wait for. It wasn’t anything special, just time my family had set aside to spend together. This particular day was exciting, but I can honestly look back on that now and wish that this wasn’t the case. I remember how we greeted one another with a hug. We were so excited about our plans. While we didn’t always get along, we still loved these days we had together.
By C.E. Martini3 years ago in Fiction
A Heart
She clutched the locket by its chain in her hand, crying as she huddled in the corner of the demolished building. Her fire burned steadily, its small light the only thing keeping the cold of the night away. In another time, this would have been spring. Flowers blooming, birds singing, animals coming out of winter habitations, the world rising anew from the depths of winter like a phoenix rising from the ashes. This was no ordinary winter. The world had burned in the fires of a nuclear war and now there was no spring. No summer. No fall. Only winter. A world burned to the ground, deserted cities the only evidence that anything had ever lived. Of course, there were those like her. Survivors. Ones who had been in a shelter when the first nukes were launched. The “best of the best,” chosen in the years and decades prior to the war as the most fit to propagate humanity should an extinction event happen. She was not one of the ones in a bunker.
By Isaac Hallberg3 years ago in Fiction
WHAT HATE DESTROYED, LOVE WILL REMAKE
Ryla hit the ground with a hard thud as dust flew up all around. Without a second thought, her body flowed flawlessly through her oft-trained sequence of motions, kicking her feet in a circular motion as her body created momentum to spin her upright once more. In the process, her feet struck the assailant, and knocked him over.
By Mark Wesley Chidester3 years ago in Fiction
Little Flower
The sun gleaned red through the thick cloud of sand roaring over the crumbled buildings of a society now dead. Mounds of sand stacked themselves against the grumbling buildings, reaching towards the sky. Cutting through the buildings, was a wide path made of black rocks and faded colored lines. Shielded by the ruins from the heavy winds and sand, the road gave the nomads a clear path to a promise. A new society was said to be rebuilding to the east, welcoming others to join and contribute. But, with such a clear path, comes a clear opportunity as well. Walking along the road were two girls. The youngest, Sophie, being only 9 years old, and Trista 15. The girls were dressed in fabrics draped over their shoulders like ponchos and their heads were wrapped in thin cloth with goggles protecting their eyes from the sand. Trista held on tightly to Sophie’s hand as she led her through the storm. “Stay close to me Sophie! Hang onto your flower!” She yelled over the wind. Sophie took the flower in her hand and stashed it away in her poncho. The girls hung to the left side of the path so the buildings would offer more protection against the intense winds. The girls pushed forward until suddenly a dark silhouette appeared before them. Trista stopped and waited a moment hoping that it was a simple shadow dancing in the sun's light. After a moment Trista stepped forward and called out into the blowing sand.
By Kolton Maturey3 years ago in Fiction
The Locket of Pangea
Lucas looked up and was shocked. Before him was an elaborate booth that looked like it belonged in a street market in an African country, there were thousands of rolls of parchment behind it. Each one, the color of the sand that surrounded him and his companion, Archie. There were pens and pencils that were all shapes and sizes laid out on the booth’s top. Some with feathers and others that looked like novelty items from tourist locations of old. In the middle of the booth, between the row of parchment, was an easel. However, Lucas could not see what was being painted on it because the view of the easel was obstructed by a human being. From behind, all Lucas could see was long, black hair to the middle of this person’s back. They had a dark blue linen shirt on with the sleeves rolled down to the elbows. Lucas noticed that their skin was a few shades darker than his and more of a chocolate when compared to Archie’s caramel color. The being had blue jeans on that were the starkest of whites. It took a second for Lucas to take in this being who turned around to greet them. Lucas was unsure if he had ever seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Her black hair was held in place by a pair of Victorian goggles and her brown eyes looked over Lucas and Archie with a very suspicious gaze that caught Lucas off guard. She had both hands on her hips and was tapping one foot on the sand.
By Jonathan McCoy3 years ago in Fiction