Excerpt
Into the Void
Sara dreamed of the ocean the way she remembered it as a kid — cold, gray, endless, the kind of water that didn’t sparkle so much as brood. In the dream, she stood at the shoreline with her boots sinking slowly into wet sand, the tide tugging at her laces like it wanted her to step closer.
By Syl De'Vil9 days ago in Fiction
The Star's Fallen Child
The worst thing you can be in Craemia is special. Okay, that's harsh, I’m aware, but it's true one: the more special someone becomes in this country the worse off they’ll be. I was protected, but now that protection is gone. One night of darkness cursing me to an eternity of such.
By caitodoesstuff9 days ago in Fiction
The Wrong Room at the Right Time
You don’t know how you ended up in this room. You weren’t looking for it. You weren’t even looking for him. You were just walking — down a hallway, through a door, across a threshold — and suddenly you’re somewhere you’ve never been before, somewhere that feels private in a way that makes your skin prickle.
By Syl De'Vil11 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
Sara didn’t even know why she went out there that morning. She told herself it was just curiosity, just wanting to see how far the construction crew had gotten on the new house, but really it was because she hadn’t come back here since she returned. Not once. The old willow tree still hunched over the hill like it was guarding Lake Downing, its branches rattling in the cold wind, whispering the same secrets they used to whisper when she and Birdi climbed it and pretended they were queens of the whole damn world. The lake hadn’t changed at all. But she had. It felt smaller now, or maybe she did.
By Syl De'Vil12 days ago in Fiction
The Warmth Beyond the Snow
Not the thin gray ribbon that usually rose from a chimney on a winter morning. This smoke was black. It climbed straight into the pale sky above the frozen valley, thick enough to look like a storm cloud hanging over the mountains.
By Behind the Curtain16 days ago in Fiction
The Unexpected Guest
You step off the train into the damp evening air, the collar of your coat pulled high against the chill. The platform is empty, save for a single flickering streetlamp that casts long, warped shadows across the concrete. You check your watch, realizing with a sudden spike of adrenaline that you are exactly an hour late. You curse under your breath. A slip of paper flutters out of your pocket, and as you reach down to grab it, you link you hear footsteps echoing right behind you. You whip your head around to see the branches of a small tree tapping on a nearby station window. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes from your lips. You’ve never been to this part of town before, and you pull your coat tighter against yourself as you examine the slip of paper under the street light that is fluttering in time with your nerves.
By Ellie Hoovs18 days ago in Fiction
Hurricane Party
The water was getting choppy. Lila felt the current change behind her knees, tossing her into the wave when she hesitated instead of getting on top of it. She closed her eyes, tucked in her arms, legs, and head, and let it tumble her, holding her nose to keep the salt water from flushing her sinuses. When it released her, she gained her feet just in time to get knocked down again. Salt water assaulted her nose and eyes, and when she found the surface again, she swam for shore, then strode out of the water.
By Harper Lewis 19 days ago in Fiction
Christmas In July
David scratched his temple, lips pursed, before taking another sip of cold coffee. From the nearby window, he heard the first harbingers of Spring chirp away and knew if he opened said window, he’d catch a waft of petrichor mixed with the Russian Sage he planted three years back. It was undoubtedly the start of Spring and yet here he was, staring into the eyes of the little ghost dog Halloween decoration sitting on the mantle. The thing was undoubtedly adorable, as Halloween decorations went, with its pointy ears and little trick-or-treat bucket, but he thought it was packed up with the rest of the decorations, because, as he firmly established, it was Spring. He hadn’t lost it yet. He remembered her ordering it; a memento mori of their first pup. In the moment, it seemed a little fucked up, but that decoration made sure he never forgot little Artemis.
By Matthew J. Fromm19 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: The Flash-Freeze of '96
While the rest of the riders at the Orlando regional track were choking on dust and chasing brackets, Bane was trying to drown out the oppressive, ninety-two-degree Florida heat. It was late October of 1996, and the air behind the staging lanes smelled heavily of sunbaked asphalt, race fuel, and hot metal. He leaned his shoulder against the rusted frame of a tool trailer, spinning a pedal with the toe of his skate shoe. To everyone else, he was just another local kid killing time before the next moto. In reality, he was completely detached, exhaustion pulling at his eyes.
By Syl De'Vil24 days ago in Fiction
