Fable
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 hepworth29 days ago in Fiction
The Easter Rarebit. Honorable Mention in Out of Season Challenge. 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 29 days ago in Fiction
"See You in the Fall!". Winner in Out of Season Challenge. Top Story - September 2026.
There once lived a mute swan on Lake Julia in Buhl Park of northwestern Pennsylvania. People called her Grace for her beauty and smooth gliding on the lake's surface, and were always happy and excited to see her. Grace moved around other lakes in the area, including Avalon Lake, but Lake Julia was her favorite because it was slightly bigger and had more food in its waters. Besides, some people brought her bread and grains even though there were clear signs on the lake warning against feeding the waterfowl.
By Lana V Lynx30 days ago in Fiction
Blood Is Thicker Than Soap And Water
Blood Is Thicker Than Soap And Water The story you are about to read is a true story about my dad, George Hurst, and his sister, my Auntie Nellie. It happened when they were little, on what turned out to be one very bad day at school.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a month 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'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Stitch: The Scent of Rain
You smell jasmine first. Not the soft, powdery kind that blows through open lace curtains in the spring. This jasmine is sharp, almost bitter, tangled with the thick, oily perfume of crushed neroli and the heavy, metallic scent of rain. It is the exact sensory loop that has haunted your sleep since childhood, a phantom aroma that always wakes you up with your pulse hammering against your throat. It is the only warning you get before you step into the clearing.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Stitch: The Wire Song.. Content Warning.
The winter hunger isn't a rumble in your belly; it is a hollow, driving madness that consumes your entire mind. For six grueling months, you haven't been a girl named Sara. You haven't worn your heavy hiking boots or thought about a home back in Maine. Something deep and unexplainable broke inside your psyche under the weight of everything that you carry, and you fled, trapped entirely inside the thick, striking coat of a fox.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
The Guardians Report. Top Story - September 2026.
Each year, as the Earth turns on its axis and spins round the wobbling sun, the light lessens by about three minutes a day at this time of year in this region of Canada. The blooms in the gardens, still reflect the glorious rays of sun that fall upon them, until the roars of the autumn winds chase the sweet whispering breezes and scents of summer away.
By Katherine D. Grahamabout a month ago in Fiction
