Latest Stories
Most recently published stories 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
I Swear I Saw the Whole Thing
Fine, man, don't believe me - here I go out of my way and come to you with a story that could change the way you see the world forever and you just brush me off like some lunatic in the street. I listen to all your boring, pointless stories and don't complain, but here I see a miracle and you shrug it off. No, not a miracle, something better than a miracle because anyone can do this. I'm talking about turning the impossible into the possible, and you're going to be a little prick about it. Well, fine.
By Andrew Johnston3 years ago in Fiction
Piper's Last Song
The water over St. Anthony Falls was spewing spewing forth as if in a mad rush to make it from the Mississippi to the sea. Piper had noticed that in the last year, the once-foul water had become unusually pure; so much so that she begun to eat some of the fish she caught, rather than putting them all out for the cats.
By Juliette McCoy Riitters3 years ago in Fiction
AFFAIR OF THE HEART - A short Story
Ж ‘There’s a pleasure in pain’Ж This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to names, characters, actual persons, living or dead, places, locales or incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are purely used fictitiously. To the extent that the covers and pictures go, models and free pictures websites were used.
By Lady Lavinia Dasani3 years ago in Fiction
Guilty By Association
India’s heart-shaped locket bounced up and down against her chest as she ran. It was the last gift she received from her parents before their passing, and she held onto it for dear life. She looked around at what was once her childhood neighborhood. It was as if no time had passed. Colorful birds of paradise adorned the nicely manicured front lawn. The grass was a vibrant green with solar lights leading the way up to the front door. She stopped to catch her breath but dared not stay long. For whatever reason she was running, she instinctively knew she’d have to start again. The warm, welcoming red door lured her in closer; so close she almost opened it but stopped as she touched the handle. Again, instinctively she knew that if she opened the door, her childhood would be blasted open. She withdrew her hand and ran away from the house.
By Himmet Kazak3 years ago in Fiction
Find Me
Scenery mirrors on the passing vehicles and warps to the curvature of their frame, while lines of morning sunlight sneak through the gaps between buildings and trees. She leans into the car door with her chin in her palm, eyes squinting when the light plays peek-a-boo as her mother drives her to school. Her eyelashes catch her black bangs that lay down over her forehead as she deflects the suns rays that catch her green eyes gaze. 'Another new school, great.' She rolls her eyes as this thought crosses her mind. 'It's just another set of people who will immediately decide that I'm not worth anything, except to tease for their amusement of course.' She took a deep breath.
By Clarity Poole3 years ago in Fiction
The Suffering
Are they serious? They can’t honestly be serious. After everything the old bag put Ayla and I through, she still had literally no one else to even come clean up her stupid house. Why did she collect so many different things? Cows. Elephants. Hummingbirds. Spoons. Wolves. Figurines, wall art and of course some more figurines – most of which are made from something extremely breakable. The spoons might have some value; the collection is huge and some of the spoons are quite old. Do people still collect things? I can’t remember the last time I can think of anyone with collections of things. I guess all things are part of a collection of sorts – all your stuff is stuff you’ve collected and accumulated along your life. So, what causes someone to then micro-collect so many different things?? Who is going to want to buy 300 porcelain, glass and ceramic animals that literally have nothing in common with each-other?
By Sarah MacKenzie3 years ago in Fiction