Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Burn it, Burn it all
Necessity is the mother of invention, or in this case the mother of ingenuity. I found a small bag of potting soil, and an old broken box spring. Added some leaves, plywood and boom a raised bed. Planted some honeydew melon seeds and couldn't wait for them to produce.
Qa'id Ali HarrisPublished 3 years ago in FictionWhat I Found in the Rubble
The meek have inherited the earth. When all the superpowers collapsed themselves there was no one left to deprive us of it. Although they didn't exactly leave a paradise; all the comforts of the modern age went with them. Some people blame the Americans. Others blame the Koreans and the Chinese. Others blame various countries of the Middle East, and still others blame Russia. It doesn't matter now; none of those countries exist anymore. As far as I know, there are no countries whatsoever anymore. The people at the controls might've discriminated, but nuclear fire was more indifferent: It took out everyone, and everything that was on the surface. There was no sign, no warning, no time to intentionally duck and cover. Only those of us who happened to be underground at the time survived the impact, but only a fraction weren't crushed by debris, inevitably starved, or succumbed to oxygen deprivation.
Noelle SpauldingPublished 3 years ago in FictionOnly hope
All the trees were a blur of brown and green streams as they swept past us. My hands were darting out in front of me instinctively swatting away branches before they could make contact with my face. We were running for our lives through a forest we had never been to before. We had been trapped for so long after the world had gone to shit and most of the human race was dead. Trapped by people calling themselves The New Government. They where made up of soldiers and scientist conducting horrible experiments on any human left they could get their hands on. In order to “creat a new worl” The results of thier experiments, well lets say even hell would turn away these mutated abominations. The only way to not become another one of there sick creations was to escape at any cost.
Deirdre KausPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Body of Mr. Hainsworth
The car door swung open, slapping Lethe with the acrid stench of diesel and manure. Choking back the bile building in her throat, she lifted her head high and stepped out of the backseat, immediately sinking her heel into a half-inch of mud. Or at least she hoped it was mud.
Meghan WattPublished 3 years ago in FictionBastion 4
Aguilar stands in the rain while his abuelita fumbles with her keys. She is trying to open the security gate that protects her store from nighttime bandits. Aguilar is nine, nearly ten, and short for his age. His flip-flops grow slimy under the torrent and the wetter his underwear becomes, the more it starts to itch. Then the sun emerges from behind the heavy clouds and the rain suddenly stops.
Mack DevlinPublished 3 years ago in FictionDoomsday locket
A heart. He could never say, “I love you” but this locket he gave her was in the shape of a heart. She had come that close to being zipped into the forced unity of Russia and Japan. The zipper pulling up to her neck caught on the locket and gave it its heart shape.
Alice EcklesPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Diary of Jenna Jones
Dear Diary, it is day 60 of the year 2241 in this new world order. Once the revolution came to an end the government was overthrown we started living in a lawless world, which is terrifying. I just heard about a massive explosion in what used to be Seattle. Some residual feelings left over from the revolution I guess. Thankfully I don’t think anyone was hurt. We are running out of supplies which means I have to go get some soon. My family is barely holding together. To quote my dad “Jenna, you have to think smart, if something happens to your mother and I you will be on your own and need to know how to survive. Never stay out after dusk and never go out before dawn.” The night time is the worst time because that’s when the monsters the government created to fight the revolution come out. They are like a wolf but they have the bite and killing capacity of a black widow spider. They were made to kill and will not give up if they see you. Basically you are marked until they catch you. They are so stealthy you never know where they will be. Thankfully I have yet to see one. I guess is should turn in for the night. Until next time. Jenna Jones.
Sarah ChastainPublished 3 years ago in FictionAnti-Psychics
This world is not one for those of creative passion. This is not a world where parents can safely provide for their children. This is a world of loss. Of pain. Of desperation. This world has no place for ambitions.
Mongrels
We believe that we always existed like this. It is horrible to think of it any other way, and when we do, we construct a list: Wonder. Ask. Accept.
Tristan ShawleyPublished 3 years ago in FictionTHREE
Before life turned to hell overnight, kid three had a name, a family, and most of all, a past. Raised in a warehouse with twenty-one other orphans, all were numbered instead of named. The Elders as they called themselves, were rough taskmasters who forced their charges to perform backbreaking tasks to earn their keep. Too traumatized to remember her parents or past, three did her best to survive in a world where a seven-year-old was beaten daily by the older children for a bite of food.
TERRY DORTCHPublished 3 years ago in FictionChaos, Technology, and a Dying Sun
“Civilization disappeared the day the sun started to fail. Should I have gone with my family on the last ship to the space station? No, it’s better that I gave my ticket to that kid. At least his family is together now.”
Nicholas McKennaPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Place Beyond the Pain
Her eyebrow sweat, as her throat becomes dry and her palms become moist, indicating nervousness for what lies ahead. Mallory Harrison is a human rights lawyer, something she always dreamed of becoming but never realized how much work it would become. Today she is presenting to her firm, a case that would originate in Germany, but arrived in Atlanta. A woman sex trafficked, slaved in the United States. Mallory’s client was stabbed, raped, bitten and bloody. Mallory is fighting for her and all the other women affected by Sex Traffic; boldly Mallory is pushing for strict proposal of law in Georgia. Bobby, her best friend, is seated and supportive, the room is filled with every board member, and she begins presenting along with Bobby’s assistance. Mallory sees a smile from Bobby, only sending butterflies through her already anxious body. As she gets through the presentation, there is a moment of hesitancy as she walks out the room, unsure of the tone of the board’s opinions. “You were amazing in there!” Said Bobby. However, Mallory begins to question herself, “was it enough? Should I have pushed harder? Did I speak clearly?” She thought. Mallory headed back to her desk with a sense of dread, wondering what they might say. “They just sat there and starred at me, making unpleasant faces” she whispers to herself. Mallory wonders if she should approach a member of the board to get a better understand but instead attempts to get back to work on her usual cases. As the day goes on, Mallory questions what the decision of the board will be. Her confidence begins to wither away as each hour passes. Second-guessing every decision, she makes, eventually its 5:00PM, she packs up and heads home. Greeted by darkness, she throws her things down, heats up her dinner before heading off to bed. Unenthusiastic, and feeling defeated by the silence and remarks of the faces of those old men of the board; she quickly falls into a deep sleep.
Meghan BeauchampPublished 3 years ago in Fiction