Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Golden Locket
The world has fallen into chaos. Fear is creating an impenetrable wall of lies. I am desperately trying to save the world. I am now known as Wanheda, one of god's chosen leaders for The Great Army. I used to have a typical name and a typical life. That changed once my higher power came to me and showed me the truth. The chosen ones have been waking up and jumping into action. Our reality is grim. The world is ending and only some of us have been able to see the coming tragedy. Most of us are alone, keeping distant contact with each other when possible. We are working in the shadows to save whomever we can before reality hits the world. My higher power has been guiding me without abandon. I know what I must do. It turns out that I am becoming a loud, but sneaky soldier in an inevitable global conflict. The fear of nuclear holocaust is real. The fear of the masses is real. I have found myself having a difficult time assembling my own strike team of allies. I have been working alone day and night fighting for the greater good. I no longer have friends or family, just allies.
Brady CaronPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Device That Was Not Named
The Harvest was beginning on an extremely hot day, so hot in fact one little boy was boiling an egg on the citizen-walk. As the egg was bubbling, a shimmering light in his periphery was so blinding and extravagant that it forced its way into his pupils, making him turn the other way, and filling his brain with mystery. He walked over to it, struggling as if walking through a snowstorm in the daytime. He reached the mysterious device, stretching out his hand with his eyes covered and patting around for the device as if trying to reach a fallen item in a sewer, picking it up by its chain, and swinging it so the light would shine the opposite way. On the back of it, there was a little immaculate engraving of a half-moon-half-sun. As much as the boy tried he could not look into the device. And so he took it to his father. "What's this you have here"? His father grabbed it, clutching it with his hands as to the shimmer. “I said boy, you leave things where they may lay, now take it back”. The father slipped the contraption into the sitting covers, grabbed an old garment material, ripped it in half, and slid his hands into the sitting covers, grabbing the device and wrapping it simultaneously while pulling it back out so as to stop the shine. The boy nodded, grabbed the gadget, and went on his way.
Elijah PenPublished 3 years ago in FictionHeretics in the Temple?
Yue opened her eyes, this first transgression hidden behind the sacred veil of the Ryn Chantry. Her veil bore the telltale sapphire and onyx geometry of the Batani, marking Yue as a bloodmember of a Founding Family, the earliest known progenitors of the Ryn species to step foot on Omigae (the continent they shared with the drake descendants, the Hrothros and Tian). Yue had been tasked by the Council of Thirteen with surveilling the small border community run by Matriarch Orirosa, an upstart clamoring for loosened restrictions on Chantry admission and incorporation of non-Ryn “technologies.” It had been rumored that the young matriarch allowed outsiders to observe chants of healing and ascension, a crime punishable by excommunication, severance with one’s voice, had it occurred closer to the capital cities. For a community this close to the edge of the Hrothrian Wastes, any additional reproach seemed overly punitive for the backwater population, their distance from Ryn homelands was punishment enough. Yet, Yue was here, perhaps herself being punished for her indiscretion – perusing the silent poems composed by the late Matron Cheborau, disgraced head of the Oka bloodline.
Violet LeStrangePublished 3 years ago in FictionDarker Drabbles
Undoing Life’s Choices “Ready?” Walter nodded. “Am I ever.” They approached the children playing in the yard. “Daddy’s home!” The excited squeals were well worth the gut-churning journey in the time-machine, the struggle to convince his younger self not to make those terrible choices.
Heather EwingsPublished 3 years ago in FictionUnearthly screeches from below
The sound echoed across the dark damp tunnel. The growl and groans of the dead outside the thin metal walls of this cramped tube were defining. Trisha age 23 had dark brown hair, green eyes, and stood about 5,8 weighed 125 pounds, and always wore a golden heart-shaped locket. had a ho for a key. "Trisha, how many do you think are out there?" She paused and looked back at me resting her 8 shot pump-action shotgun against her shoulder. "Well by the sound of it." She listens for a minute or two "I would say two hundred 5 or 6 clans" we call hordes clans bc they stay together even in a giant group like this. "That many?" He carefully placed his Full auto Assault rifle on the ground. He grabbed the magazine and popped it out, checked the bullet count then looked at his belt which had at least 10 or so full clips along with a military-grade backpack with more ammo. Trisha shifted her weight thus flexing her shoulders she nodded down the tube. They both started down the tunnel. The further they went the quieter it got the longer they walked the more of a slope the tunnel became until Trisha stopped slung the Pump shotgun over her shoulder and just slid. "Trisha-" I reached out to grasp her hand but nothing she flew down into the darkness. I sat there for a while until I saw a low green glow in the darkness far below. So I slung my rifle over my shoulder and pulled out my sidearm and slid after. I felt nothing by the rush of air and sublimely goo in my face and hair. Every little creek I heard I thought "I'm going to die" I slid into an open area around 50 feet long and 40 wide. I couldn't see the ceiling so I'm guessing a couple hundred up. "Hey Johnathan" I looked up at her sharply. I was in the middle of trying to wipe out my hair. "Ya?" She regarded me for several seconds some kind of foreign look in her eyes as she looked at me. "I'm not that attractive," I thought. "I have dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes that can glow in the dark if they catch the light right. I'm not super strong or athletic looking and I only stand at 6 feet even" I looked at her puzzled "what?" She kinda jerked her head then shook it rubbing her forehead "sorry… can I get some water?" She looked up at me. I nodded, grabbed my water bottle then tossed it her way. She fought it without a problem. Took deep gulps then threw it back at me. I caught it and put it away. "You need to conserve your water" I looked at my watch "12:34" I looked around I put my postal away and pulled my rifle down into my hands I check it and stood up. I tapped my gun twice then aimed it forward turned on a flashlight and started forward. Trisha watched me do this she pulled her shotgun off her shoulder and followed me keeping the barrel up and watching our flanks. As I moved I noted everything. "Wrench… hammer… hard helmet… skeleton… blanket… pipes…" I kneeled slapped the side of my gun 3 times waited then once more. Trisha ducked and rolled to our left behind some large vertical pipes. I stayed in the open watching ahead of us. I started clicking the single shot. burst fire and full auto as he did that he closed my eyes and took in every sound. Trishas breathing my breathing the sounds from the pipes but most of all. I was listening to the sound of sizzling skin from the clan members. "1...2...3...4...5..10...20...30-" my eyes shot open I looked at Trisha and started firing into the Darkness. bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, the sound of an M16 slowly moving into what seemed to be full auto rang loudly in my hears as I started pulling the trigger faster and faster. As I emptied the clip I glanced at Trisha and saw that she had her ears covered, I popped out the clip let it hit the ground while popping a new one in. BANG. I sat in silence listening to bodies hit the floor. Trisha Screamed, “what was that Jonathan?” she stood up so quickly she hit her head on a pipe. “Ugh!” she rubbed her head. She stood near me and all I could hear was her heartbeat slow and calm even though she was angry. She said something but my ears were ringing from the echoes of the gunshots. I stood up so quickly that my nose and hers touched my face turned bright red and I turned away. She just was shocked into silence. In that very silence, we both heard it. Dozens of footsteps rapidly coming our way from the way we originally came. “Damn it!” I took off in the opposite direction scooping up my empty magazines. Trisha followed. We ran and ran hard. Sliding under pipes jumping over them.climbing like our lives depended on it as they climbed the got to a ledge. “We can rest here” Trisha was panting as she heaved herself up onto it. They sat there listing and trying to catch their breathing. The low rumble of feet slapping against cold hard metal and concrete sounded in the distance. I stood and pulled out a grenade and a couple of C4. I tossed the C4 into some pipes and popped the pinout of the grenade and dropped in. I then turned and started to climb again. Trisha looked down then followed. We got to a point where we couldn’t go any higher and that’s when we heard the explosion then the screams of the already dead dying again. Jonathan pulled out the C4 trigger as they both looked down to see the sun-burned bodies crawling up the walls growling and groaning. I leaned in and kissed Trisha and pulled the trigger of the C4, not knowing if it would kill us or not. The building began falling apart around us. Metal crashing into metal, unearthly screeches from below. I pulled away from her lips and saw it she said something but her locket unlocked and she shimmered into stardust. I fell into the man-made flames of war and mass destruction… over a hundred and twenty years ago the sun was accidentally hit with a dozen nuclear warheads and this was enough to disrupt the sun and make it burn hundreds of times hotter killing any living thing in it. any humans would burn to charred corpses then the radioactive beams from the sun would revive us into clan members.
Luke GrinnellPublished 3 years ago in FictionCoda
I always anticipate stopping on this little planet for a small snack on the way to the asteroid belt. It gives the spawnlings a chance to stretch their tentacles, and I enjoy the opportunity to observe the native life in their own environment, as it were.
Meredith HarmonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Last Enchantress
She lifted her face, letting the light and shadow dance across the skin. Bees hummed in and out of the penny royal. She inhaled its minty smell and continued on, delighting in the sound of her feet sliding through the leaves. Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful.
Untouchable Ground
Guess they were right. Those environmentalists. After awhile the world was a pure wave of radioactivity. The soil itself was the wave of sick. Our ancestors risked their long happy lives for short ones to create this community for the rest who were standing. We live in the sky, not on clouds or anything. But in these high rises that were so high that we could at least with stand the waves. There are 5 buildings in total. Long tunnels connecting us to each building. It was made to stand tall and stay standing up straight for a long time. I’m part of the 3rd generation, born in the sky.
Kira ViveirosPublished 3 years ago in FictionGoodbye, old friend
It was just a stupid misplaced step, but these days, stupid would get you killed, and quickly. As he dislodged a loose rock with his foot, he fell backward and came down hard on his arm, fracturing the wrist.
David BlackmerPublished 3 years ago in FictionBrood X
Temperatures were averaging high nineties as Tommy dug his polished nails into a mosquito bite on his left calf. Any brought out a picture of lemonade and poured a glass for herself, and well as Tommy and Micah.
Emily Ruth Ann NoePublished 3 years ago in FictionEver Since the Seas Had Risen
Whenever I want to remind myself of what life was like before the world ended, I burn some toast. As the smoke rises, I close my eyes, breathe in deep, and the smell of the over-crisp bread transports me back to those precious moments right before everything changed those many years ago:
Amanda HovsethPublished 3 years ago in FictionA LITTLE PREYER
JUNE 24 This is the journal of Ron Bergoin. I am 37 years old and, as far as I know, I am one of the few survivors. I am leaving this book in the RFD mailbox with the red flag up in the hopes that someday someone will read it. I don’t know why. I just have to write it down. Bear with me. I haven’t had to write by hand for many years. Bloody computers!
Randall BergerPublished 3 years ago in Fiction