Fable
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'Vilabout 8 hours 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'Vila day ago in Fiction
An Adventure in Succinctness: A Four-story Micro Fiction Collection
Introduction to a New Genre Once upon a time in the late 90s, I picked up a book that had a profound influence on me. It was a short anthology with a tad over 100 pages. However, within the book there were 101 stories that were 56 words in length, but each carried the impact of a full-length novel. In addition, they ran the gamut of being funny, sad or terrifying.
By Dean Traylor3 days ago in Fiction
The Frog King
The Frog King ruled over the swampy kingdom of Toktik. His castle consisted of crooked lily pads, glittering snail shells and a tower made from old tin cans. All day long he hopped across the marketplace, loudly proclaiming that nobody could croak as magnificently as he could.
By Christian Bass6 days ago in Fiction
In a Yellow Wood
It’s 3:15 in the afternoon, you check the clock again. Wondering if he’s alright. A gnaw in the pit of your stomach like every weekday afternoon. What if she’s trying to get back in his life again? Would she do that behind your back? You don’t trust her not to, so you set out the pizza rolls on a pan and stick them in the oven. 3:16, he’s late. Then you go to the living room and peek out through the curtains. There he is, standing there talking to the girl from down the street. She’s a cute girl and you notice the way Michael blushes as she twirls her hair around her finger. He’s not on his bike; he’s holding the handles as if he walked it home instead of riding it. Probably to walk alongside her. You look down the sidewalk and see another kid, head down, hands in his hoodie pockets. A loner. You can relate; you didn’t have many friends growing up either. That’s probably what made you so easy for your ex. She wrapped you around all five fingers and some toes. Someone, especially someone that beautiful, gave you attention. That was all it took. The kid with the hoodie looks up, directly at you, making eye contact. You duck back inside. But not before you saw little Suzie or whatever her name is down the street give your son Michael a peck on the cheek. He was bright red. You rush back to the kitchen.
By Raine Fielder7 days ago in Fiction
spring has sprung (in a flowerbed of lonely, empty stems)
It’s the first day of spring here in Wellingville, but for Merryrose, it’s just another day. The morning breeze tickles her nose as she steps outside with her nose up high, her sleek, small purse slung over her slender shoulder. Her heels strike against the concrete like hammers against stone, as if she’s trying to break the pavement underneath her weight.
By angela hepworth9 days ago in Fiction
The Easter Rarebit. Top Story - September 2026.
For some context, watch this: The first thing to note was the temperature. For a rabbit, this was a strange sensation. With all of his fur and energy, he should be just fine with this type of weather. But there was the bigger problem of knowing too much about what time of year it should be.
By Kendall Defoe 9 days ago in Fiction
