Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Playing Possum
It had been a simple matter for her to penetrate the so-called security that surrounded the building.
David PerlmutterPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Book of Kalli
Deep in the cavern, two hundred feet below the surface, Kalli checked the time and decided three days of isolation would do for this trip. She scuttled backward to the last turnaround point.
J. S. WadePublished 3 years ago in FictionNothing Ever Really Belongs to You.
The sun was a fading blood-hole above the city of the dead and half-living. The hunch-shouldered did not grunt as they slaved, though spittle gathered at the corners of forever-thirsty mouths. The furnaces they fed shot flames high into the grey sky. Nothing howled or moaned but pain dominated. Exhausted bones moved with emaciated muscle.
Heath HardinPublished 3 years ago in FictionShe Gets the Flowers, Right?
Catherine could feel her face get red and hot, she could feel her eyes welling up with tears, she sniffed trying to hold back the tears. Catherine let out a deep and uneven breath.
Heart's Treasure Lost
“When I was young, the world expected Armageddon with bated breath. It became a culture, a form of entertainment. We expected bombs, wars, plagues, earthquakes, alien invasion, or some other form of total destruction from one day to the next. We were so focused on fearing the apocalyptic destruction of the world, we never noticed that Armageddon came like a thief in the night, sneaking away with the world as we knew it, one piece at a time. The world had been coming to an end for years and no one noticed until it was too late…”
Carrie ForthmanPublished 3 years ago in FictionJupiters Collision
We've set out to find other survivors. We know there are other survivors but the radios are all static now. When the nuclear bombs were detonated a few of us hid underground to wait it out. To wait until the shaking from the explosions had stopped. To wait for the air to clear up a bit. We are running low on supplies, so we must go in search of more. Those of us who have made it through this seemingly endless nightmare are trying not to go as insane as those who couldn't handle knowing their world may not be as it was before.
Chrissy BarnhillPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Trip Like No Other
“I can’t believe you’re making me wear this,” Lucas said in disbelief. He looked in the bedroom mirror and analyzed the red and black get up Brantley put him in.
Missy RobertsPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Bunyip Makes A Bargain
Every morning Mirri and Gough woke up before the sun made its appearance in the sky, rubbed their sleepy eyes and then went to the nearby well to draw enough water to last through the day. They washed their hands and faces while their mum made them a hearty breakfast. After they ate, Mirri would sweep the kitchen floor while her brother brought in wood for the oven.
Juliette McCoy RiittersPublished 3 years ago in FictionGertrude's Test
Just another room full of screens, Tanka ruminated as he gloomily pretended to sip at the brown plastic bottle. He was wondering if it was the neons that made it quite this sticky. Always counter, even yourself. Counter – pharmas have similar lights, and they seemed to add to the eerie coat of glaze. Luckily, the triplets skid into the bar and snapped him from his reverie.
Caught between Realms
What dreams may come… a wonderful movie, inspired by an amazing novel. Within the sequences that unfold on screen or the message sequestered deep inside the book, our minds are children looking for the next adventure. Throughout the past decade, or two, or three, there have been a palethora of novels inspiring screenwriters to help on person’s creative realm, living within their mind, make the jump to screen play. The world fell in love with a shimmering vampire. Millions have become fanatics of a boy with a lightening bolt scar upon his brow.
Jeremy JamesPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe New Ones
Drip. Drip. Drip. Mae huddled in the furthest corner of the closet, surrounded by debris, old mouse droppings, and dead insects. There was a hole in the ceiling, and something was dripping on her. It was hitting the back of her head, a little to the left, then running down her neck. Icy, cold drops, like ancient Chinese water torture.
Kari McLeesePublished 3 years ago in FictionA Multiverse Immigrant
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”