Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Dye In The Night.
As he trekked forward to the stone wall, Oisín couldn’t help looking over his shoulder at the Abbey in the distance. If he was quick, he could return home before dawn, leaving Brother Raymond none-the-wiser. Bumping into the wall tore his eyes away from the towers and huts, returning him to the journey ahead. Though the wall was low enough to mount over but high enough to keep the ewes in their field, he was struck by what the interlocking rocks represented.
By Conor Matthews3 years ago in Fiction
Tsunami of Cats
I put my hand out but couldn't reach her even though we were in the same room. She laughed, not at me, at the TV—something to do with mice. It was a pleasant evening outside. Inside it was just evening. I asked her to change the channel to something more interesting and she replied that I should change into something more interesting first. She had the remote and is sometimes packing a nine so I went and sat in my easy chair.
By Karl Van Lear3 years ago in Fiction
Waterlogged
I was born after the rain began. My grandfather told me how amazing the world was before the storm; how bright and green the grass was on cultivated fields as far as the eye could see. He told me climbing the mountaintops was a test of skill and endurance, not a simple saunter up onto what limited dry land we had left. He told me, through tired eyes and matted hair, of a time when the world was warm and dry. But that was before the rain fell. Before the sun went away.
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Fiction
How I Became a Vegan
A week ago, at breakfast, my alphabet cereal spelled Doom in my bowl. I decided then and there to switch to Cheerios. Two days later my Cheerios wrote Doom in my bowl. It seems Cheerios stole a D and an M from the alphabet cereal box, which sits nearby on the shelf in the breakfast section. I felt a conspiracy brewing and rifled through my cupboards to find the ringleader because I’m not the kind of guy to slink away when my food staples start ganging up on me. I’m the apex predator here, not those multi-grain minions. I felt if I could identify the instigator I could put an end to this uprising.
By Karl Van Lear3 years ago in Fiction
Acid Rain
It’s only the fourth day of the government-induced lockdown, and I think I am already beginning to hate him. He catches me staring at him as he looks up from his work laptop. I don’t lower my eyes like I might usually do. Instead, my gaze furrows into a glare. Then I look away before I can register if he’s amused or pissed off.
By Jillian Spiridon3 years ago in Fiction
The Oasis
The desert is hot. I see mirages of water as I desperately search for food. After the World War of 2030, there was not much left on earth but dust. My ancestors have told stories - stories of a peaceful, bountiful world that was. I decide to stop my search to sit on the sand. I am exhausted from looking all day through the dust. I close my eyes and try to feel the earth. I can hear the wind and the chatter of the others in the background.
By Kathryn Willis3 years ago in Fiction
Experiment in Love
It happened in November, not one of my favourites months. I prefer October because of the falling leaves. I guess that my heart is French, though my mind has been ravaged by the words of the Bard. Shakespeare seems to rule my brain, and I’m afraid, both hemispheres. I may need a third. But my muse is the Queen, and the King if I add everything else that she does. O muse, you doth me the blues. My blue soul is in love with your red heart.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Fiction
Trophy Room Chain Letter
In mid-2020, I decided to create a series of miniature trophy busts. I combined creative writing and crafting to create a backstory for each one. The overarching story of the trophy busts is that they are black market items previously owned by a shady man named Dickii Solo, who recently died.
By Chelsea Campbell3 years ago in Fiction
A Slow Decent Into Madness
It's 2AM and all I have to do is wait. Death comes for all of us. The problem is death doesn't announce itself or waits to be invited, it just comes whenever it chooses and then it’s over. Death doesn’t care if your ready, or if you want it to come. Most people are surprised when death comes, like they hoped death would visit them at another time or another hour. The irony that the only certainty of life is death is the only thing that makes me laugh now.
By Elizabeth Grant3 years ago in Fiction
The Nobel Prize Lecture
The following is an official transcript of the Nobel lecture given on Dec. 10, 20--: Ladies and gentlemen, your majesties, and my fellow laureates: I must say that I still feel as though I have been having a long and beautiful dream these last few months. Nothing can prepare the writer for the moment – a vivid point of realization - when he discovers that his chosen profession was not a mistake or a whim that would have been best left to adolescence. For that, I thank the academy. I thank you all.
By Kendall Defoe 3 years ago in Fiction
The Templar's Knife: Pt 2
He wasn’t dead. As he let her hand go, he let out an involuntary breath of relief. There had been a moment when he’d watched her size him up in the cell, eyes darting like a caged animal where he hadn’t been so sure. Faith prevailed.
By Theo James Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
The Templar's Knife: Pt 1
There’s nothing like cake to get you in the mood for an execution. Not that the delicious chocolate dessert wasn’t welcome. It was, after all, the only thing she had eaten in...well a while that had anything resembling flavor. The practice, however, of a last meal, that was certainly absurd. The Father, the so-called merciful deity of the people who now ruled, had interesting ideas about what it meant to dignify a person’s end. Apparently dignity included cake. It could have been anything, but cake reminded her of childhood, about how things used to be, not that they’d ever been happy, but they’d been better. Better than this.
By Theo James Taylor3 years ago in Fiction