Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Mr Drake's Proposal
When the sky tore open and the pre-entry vapour clouds billowed out all pink and orange, it was like a psychedelic sunset. Olafur Olafursson assumed it was the end of times. How he prayed for the end of times. It had been thirteen long arduous years since his last conversation with a living human. If his faith had not forbidden the practice, he would have taken his own life long ago. Even when the alien craft descended into the frigid valley before him, Olafur believed it to be the work of his God. The hand of the mighty one had come to offer him salvation.
By Dean Bainbridge3 years ago in Fiction
The Heart-Shaped Locket
“552 years!” John Poe shouted. Tall, fiftyish, grey hair, John was a rare citizen sporting leathery skin browned from years under artificial suns in the caverns. “Hubert T. Gandy wasn’t always a saint. Embracing the corruption of his time, he became the first multi-trillionaire. Like Noah, God warned Gandy of His wrath at capitalist greed and of the consequential gnashing of teeth that would end the world. Gandy repented and expended his entire fortune to employ scientists and other experts to construct the Complex in secret. All citizens have memorized the inspiring story of Gandy and the words and melodies of the songs honoring his life and teachings. His benevolence blessed us until, at age 98, God took him home. On the first anniversary of his passing, Gandy was granted Sainthood by unanimous vote of the Committee of 52.
By Charles Belser3 years ago in Fiction
Retreat
“Pour vous?” “Whisky, s’il vous plaît." Nils was the barman and proprietor of the only inn in the village, but unfortunately the best days of Le Table were firmly behind it. The dusty wooden floors creaked underfoot and the rickety stool on which I perched was in dire need of repair. Propping myself up on the ancient mahogany bar seemed almost disrespectful given its age, far in advance of mine. I felt there the combined weight of all those elbows supporting weary arms without complaint, the heavy heads of despair and drunkenness, and the jubilant dancing feet of happier times.
By Andrew Rushby3 years ago in Fiction
From The Bunker to The Sky
"We’ll be out soon, little one.” The woman looked down at the tiny infant in her arms smiling warmly. Many generations had survived in the bunker. She was great full hers would be the last. Nuclear war had ended life above ground, and radiation took away any possibility of that life until today. The bunkers filtration system was clocking the radiation at stable levels, meaning the air from outside was becoming clean.
By Michaela Mewherter3 years ago in Fiction
Prime Viewing
Although the enslaved scientist wanted to help his fellow servants, his mind divined no solution. The relentless pursuit of pleasure by the Primes ruled his life. In their self-centered intolerance to the more general human condition, however, the elite females reveled.
By Karen Madej3 years ago in Fiction
2055
It feels weird sitting here, trying to remind myself how to write. I guess it’s been over 20 years since I’ve needed to. It really feels crazy to stop and let myself think about how it was. I guess I should start by explaining a little more. I’m sitting here now in April 2055, it’s my birthday today, I think, that’s why I decided to take this book from a supply run last week, I thought it might be healthy to express my life. I doubt anyone will ever see or even know this exists, but I used to love writing when I was young, may as well tell my story.
By Rhys Bibby3 years ago in Fiction
Burning Red
The stupidity of humans fascinated Briar. With almost everybody else dead, she had time to ponder it. The cost of jealousy is not one to be overlooked. Briar was sifting through the old rubbish dump, trying to find anything she could sell to make a profit for her family, the putrid smell constantly wafting into her face. This activity had become a daily necessity, however, she just wished she could become accustomed to the smell, every day the smell seemed to get worse. As she rummaged, she saw a faint glow out of the corner of her eye. As she gazed upon the item, a scowl grew on her face. It was a locket. A fearful sight in these times. One single gold heart locket had meant the end for approximately 7 billion people.
By Jane Pekin3 years ago in Fiction