Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
New Names
On my way to Touch Me, I drove through a little town by the name of Look At Me, and as I expected, there was nothing to look at. In Hear Me, there was nothing to listen to; in Smell Me, even the smell of the New Industrial Revolution was lacking; and in Taste Me, tastelessness was quite evident. What happened to the world? Did we become madder? These questions followed by a string of successors ached in my brain, and when the answers seemed to have acquired a central theme, the pain seemed to have receded as well.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Fiction
Jonathan
Jonathan Dryden’s red popsicle was melting. It dripped through his fat fingers and when he wiped them on the front of his faded old tee shirt it looked like blood streaks. Jonathan probably did that on purpose, though. Jonathan always did weird stuff like that.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
The Busboy part I
Friday, 13 February 1981 It had been a tough shift, an odd one for the opening of the weekend for Cyril Litton. Normally there were two busboys working during the week and three on Friday and Saturday, but the other guys scheduled weren’t there. And one of the bartenders was out, too. That left Cy as the only person bussing tables and he had to deliver ice and restock the bar. And, of course, the wait staff hadn’t bothered to help him out with any “pre-bussing,” getting plates and stuff off the table when patrons were finished. “Friday the Thirteenth, go figure,” he said to himself.
By L. Lane Bailey3 years ago in Fiction
Brown Sugar
I am inexplicably, unconditionally, irrevocably in love with him. The way he looks down when he smiles yet the corners of his lips turn up, its manic what he does to me its like death and life combined to form him in the image of their deepest desires in a manifested, physical form.
By Emma Ewart3 years ago in Fiction
Coming Home
Gramma always said the house had “character”. I didn’t remember ever being to the place as an adult. I’m not a young person anymore, so I may be wrong, but it does seem to me that I couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve the last time I laid eyes on the place.
By Paula Shablo3 years ago in Fiction
GALA
TW: Don't start celebrating me TOO MUCH yet. I'm kind of/sort of PROJECTING the day that my absolute favorite of all of my books gets picked up by a traditional publisher (oh; WITH an Amazon Prime deal on the way). This is all in good fun; and pay specific attention to the acceptance and thank you section. You just MIGHT know someone...
By Kent Brindley3 years ago in Fiction
Blue Rose
Rachel had finally finished her last session of the day. Today had felt like it went on forever, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She knew today was going to be hard, it would have been his birthday today. Rachel says goodbye to her client and swiftly closes the door behind them. With one deep sigh, she rushes over to her journal to process her emotions. She always got taught to practise what she preaches. He taught her that. This should make her feel better. It has every other time.
By Shauna Mullen3 years ago in Fiction
A Conversation
Sitting here in the neighborhood coffee shop, I see all these people being “social.” But there’s never any interaction. We’re attached to our phones and tablets, talking and texting, but never having a traditional conversation. It’s all about the latest email or text from that one friend or coworker or whatever.
By Megan Stewart3 years ago in Fiction
The Busboy part III
Monday, 1 June 1981 “Hey Tracy. You ready for your last book report of the year?” “I am, Cy. Let’s go,” she responded as she took his arm and walked out to his car. She waited a moment while he opened the door. She slipped into the seat, setting her supplies down on the bench between them, as she always did.
By L. Lane Bailey3 years ago in Fiction
Stupid Girl
He passed the small blue pipe to her, and she took it, making sure to brush her fingers against his in a lingering touch. She wanted his eyes on her, focused on the way her lips closed lightly around the base, how the fire from the lighter danced in her eyes, adding even more heat as she stared deep into his own.
By Megan Stewart3 years ago in Fiction