Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Will
Will had never felt so jaded, so frustrated in his life. And that was saying something. Seventeen years ago, Jennifer had found a baby boy whining in a ditch. Two street dogs sniffed at him, plainly considering whether the loud small thing would attack if they tried mauling its face off. Being the godly woman she ever was, Jennifer chased the brutes away, picked up the baby, and carried it into her prim Victorian-style house. Will was then only seven months old, but still nowadays he had flashbacks, of shouting, a hazy image of a bloody lip…and more, vague things, which he could never quite place, however hard he tried to.
By Anuraag Ghosh3 years ago in Fiction
The Change is Needed
Walking down the dusty road, in a seemingly abandoned city, I keep my eyes peeled for any movement. Whether it's human or beast, I cannot be too careful, especially in this day and age. Since everyone seems to be willing to fight, and the animals have become feral and more aggressive than they once were.
By Ashley Tenold3 years ago in Fiction
The Reset
Something was wrong. I had seen this street countless times, walked the same steps nearly every weekend; I remembered how I had avoided walking past the house with the chain link fence that looked moments from falling down. Something was off and it unsettled me. I struggled to ignore the anxiety that was rising in my chest, the pool of acid that had started to collect within my lungs was making every breath increasingly more difficult. The trees were taller, the street littered with piles of leaves and weeds pushing through the pavement. The world started to spin and I realised I was hyperventilating, my heaving chest making the ground beneath me rock. The chain-link fence had met its demise, some time ago judging by the garden that had now overtaken it. I wondered what had happened to the dog that used to live at the end of a chain behind that rusted wire. I started to get light headed as I realised - it was silent. Not the quiet of a casual afternoon but dead-quite. The dog was no longer there barking at all that went past, there was no movement. I stopped walking and tried to focus on my feet planted on the pavement, tried to think of the warmth of the sun on my skin and the breeze in my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, willing my heart to find a slower rhythm, begging my lungs to expel the acrid effervescence with my breath. Settling into the closest I could get to calm I inhaled once more before lifting my head and opening the gate to house number 43.
By Obsidian Words3 years ago in Fiction
The Zombii Spray Initiative
When I tell my wife I’m going to work for Zombii Co., she looks at me like I’m crazy. I can’t say I blame her, because the last thing you’d expect a biochemist to do is go work for a company that specializes in preventing the zombie apocalypse. The chances of having a zombie apocalypse are slim to none, but according to Dmitri ‘Jack’ Eslinger, people are nuts about zombies.
By Taylor Ellwood3 years ago in Fiction
A Hidden Treasure
In the far back corner of the attic, the shoebox was hidden under the insulation. Inside were memories from another time. Olivia was no longer the girl who once dreamed of sharing the momentos with her next generation. Somewhere along the line she had become a woman who did what she had to in order to survive.
By Kelly Horne3 years ago in Fiction
Return
In the end, the world returned to the chosen. We emerged from oaken hollows and mossy dells. Sifting through the ash and smog, we coaxed life from the dry, barren ground. We wove gowns from folly and hosted feasts among the hubris. Barefoot, we padded through the irradiated forests, luring three eyed fawns and bloodthirsty rabbits with the song of flutes. Praise to the chosen, we who stand when man has fallen. Praise to the merciful keepers of nature.
By Claudia Neaves3 years ago in Fiction
I Wish I Knew
“Wow… I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the burn marks that covered the walls around me... I guess I wouldn’t, right?” she thought as she adjusted her right leg, which was missing from the knee down, further into the dark, daunting hole in the cave. She always had to take the prosthetic off and crawl when trying to get in here.
By Naomi Walker3 years ago in Fiction
Gore-May
Gluttony, gluttony, gluttony ... I despise those with extreme intensity who lust food . My wandering eyes become focused. I sighted one man who has a firm grip on his cutlery. He consumes his food without a single intermission between every bite. I am amongst an enclave group of chefs who invite a handful of people to our secluded island every May. We encourage them to taste a variety of foods ranging from exquisite desserts, soups, salads, and elite entrees. After supper, there are those who return from where they came as we send them about their way. Then... there are those who are denied departure for our island, as they are forced to stay. Their departure is dependent upon their food consumption, alongside of the table etiquette they display.
By K. Wisendanger 3 years ago in Fiction