Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Weight of It
I was surprised by the weight of it more than anything as I rolled the burnished steel object around in my palm. Mine was more drab than my brother’s had been, with only my initials carved into the front. J.P.
Clyde PorcellaPublished 3 years ago in FictionA World Alone
The red flashing lights slowly started to wake the man strapped to the chair who had just been having a rather pleasant dream. Deep within his mind something was screaming for him to wake up but it was a quiet scream and he squinted trying to fall back into his dream. Then the sound started to register, much like a wrench across corrugated steel, it was an alarm that he knew well and it was deeply ingrained in his training.
Claire PerryPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Last Light
Ravi looked around him at the devastation the earthquake left. Like a gaping wound, the earth oozed out debris and soil. His heart felt crushed, very much like the scene he found himself staring at. Why didn’t I listen? Blaming himself for not heeding any warning as many anticipated the end. He reached into his pocket and opened the heart-shaped locket. Once a pleasant token of devotion, only now to be a painful memory of what once was. How can life change so quickly? All his loved ones were gone or missing. As far as he was aware, he was the only one left behind.
Em SchuttePublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Holiday Party
Holiday Party The email was sent at 7:00 EST. The message was simple: Join us for the annual Holiday Party. The Party will be held on Saturday December 15 at 7:00 pm. The Party will be held at the Snowline Restaurant, the address is 1587 Hwy 41 N. We look forward to seeing you all for such a delightful time.
Heather SkeltonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Days After
One locket in the shape of a heart, some clothing, and tennis shoes is all I had left of my family. Everything they had given me was long gone by now. Probably taken by the looters in the days after the attack. The looters didn’t care what they took, as long as they thought it valuable. I suppose everyone has to earn their way to the top of the food chain somehow these days. I heard that after the first bomb in D.C. dropped, people were out in the streets just waiting for some kind of god to come take them away. Many committed suicide in those first days after, my brother included. My parents, both long gone before this, had taught me how to survive no matter the circumstances. I guess you could say they were conspiracy theorists, but they were not far off of their “theories”. After the next few bombings of Austin, New York, Houston, and several other key cities, the survivors finally realized nobody was coming for them. This was a new age, not of millennials or gen X, but of survivors. Let us not forget about those who hurt anyone and everyone they can TO survive, however. We’ve just had those types since the beginning of time I suppose. In this age, you don’t trust anyone. Ever. Trusting someone will get raped and murdered, everything on your person taken for gain. I used to have a backpack, you see, and it was full of family heirlooms. I trusted the wrong person one day, hoping and praying they would help me find food. They didn’t; they helped me find my true purpose, which is getting to Canada and finding the last of a broken society. I don’t know if I have any hope of making it there. I have to try, though. Between bombings, I had heard that most Americann survivors went to Canada, to seek sanctuary from whoever was dropping the bombs. I don’t even think the government knows who razed the US to the ground. It all happened so quickly. Living in this new world is terrifying. Friends have turned into monsters, and the normal every day monsters are worse than my worst nightmares. I crave being around people again. I crave feeling loved and whole, oblivious of everything going on around me. I don’t think that is how this new age works, though. Anytime I think I hear people, I hide. It has become instinct now. Yesterday though, I found a boy in the street scavenging for food. His name is Michael. He is a young boy, 10 years old or so. Not that age matters right now either. He asked if I would help him, and against my better judgement, I allowed him to tag along. His family has all died as well and he has nobody else to take care of him. I suppose that is my job now. We haven’t eaten in days, so today I went to the abandoned convenience store several blocks away. Michael is with me still and his visibly shaking from lack of nutrition. I give most of my food, but it usually isn’t enough for his weak body. We grab some cans of potatoes off of the ground and start heading back to the place we are sleeping. We try not to stay too long in one place, for fear of being heard or discovered and the unimaginable happening. It is night by this time, but we are still just trying to get to our shelter. We are a block away when we hear a group of people talking. We weren’t close enough to hear what they were talking about, but I decided to make a run for it. I told Michael to stay hidden until I had given him the signal. This time, he was shaking with fear. I give him my locket to hold until he could get to shelter, and take off. The people were closer than I thought, because they heard me start running. They were much faster, and now, Michael is alone. All he has is some clothes, shoes, and a heart shaped locket.
Chelsea HollandPublished 3 years ago in FictionLessons Are in the Living
One day, I will wake up. When I do, I will regain my bearings; I will blink a few times to get reacclimated to the present light; I will look around and see the machines and monitors; there will be people observing and taking notes; and I will quickly calm down from the split second of the startled state of awakening. And on that day of waking, I will be asked by the main note taker, “So, how did you like that life?”
Craig HallPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Piece of my Heart
I awake to the sound of my mother moving about the kitchen. She is moving quickly, preparing breakfast for my 3 siblings and me. She does this even today, the worst day of our lives. Today the Sovereign is going to execute my father.
Kara ThomasPublished 3 years ago in FictionSearching For Peace
I could remember the last day of my life as Shiloh. I was driving my jeep with my friends downtown, we were unapolegetically loud. Then out of nowhere a car T-bones into the driver side. In the hospital all I could feel was a throbbing in my spine, later learned I had become paralyzed. I was lucky until they found internal bleeding. I was already dead in some parts of my body, so it was no shock that I would die soon after. My mother cried and cried. She went on rambling when she thought I couldn't hear, about how my father had left and now she’s going to be gone. She spoke to herself and swore she was going to end it after I had passed. She couldn't take it. What a careless mistake I had made, going out with friends, feeling immortal, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn't even speak to her, reassure her or tell her to stop. I was so distant already but what could I do. I closed my eyes and was dragged into death later that day.
Heart Lock
The founders teach us that what brought the world to its knees was the irrationality of the human heart. The human heart, they tell us, was its weakest link. It’s what betrayed us. It drove us to want things that we couldn’t have, and to fight for unrealistic passions that turned us away from our innate usefulness. Correct the ability of the heart to overrule the mind, and you’ve saved humankind from itself.
Nick JamesonPublished 3 years ago in FictionDrifting
The engine dies somewhere around Seattle - not with a bang of smoke, but with a final choke on its very last fuel. Andy isn’t even surprised. After the hellish couple of days they’ve had, this might as well happen.
Amanda FernandesPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe miner and the medic
The miner and the medic He had told her his name was Devo. Most miners died before their 20th birthday. Devo was in bad shape; red oil flowed freely from his arm implant. Lena reached into her bag and extracted a fat little jar with a screw top. She pulled her patient under the leaf of giant bamboo. It would have to do. Hopefully, the drones wouldn’t spot them.
Veronique AglatPublished 3 years ago in FictionPenny Candy
Since the first trip to the city with Dad and Morty, I hadn’t been allowed to go back. “You’re too young to see all that destruction,” Dad said.
Paula ShabloPublished 3 years ago in Fiction