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The Snow Weavers. Runner-Up in 500 Word Shockwave Challenge. Top Story - April 2025.
It was summer when the snow fell. I was only 8. I'd never seen snow before, except in videos and online. But from my bedroom window, I saw a white dusting. No, heavier than a dusting... A blanket, like linen laid across the yard and into the fields beyond the fence.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
The Pull of The Glowing Red
From her bedroom window, the night sky, a watercolor painted by nature, dazzled her eyes as Rena drifted off to sleep She awoke, from her point of view, almost immediately in a strange yet familiar place. As a cloud drifted towards her, shrouding her in its cotton-candy, white majesty, she noted the moon was closer than it was before she closed her heavy eyelids.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Lake of Blood: A Warrior’s Final Reckoning
The world above had long since forgotten the deep, uncharted caverns that lay beneath. A place where light dared not tread, and where the echoes of the past whispered like ghosts among the jagged stones. It was a realm where no living soul ventured, for fear of what might emerge from the shadows. Yet, in the darkest reaches of the earth, a figure stirred.
By Abdul Wahababout a year ago in Fiction
The Silence That Spilled from My Heart
We never really said goodbye. Not when you left for Paris. Not when I stayed behind. Not when our lives quietly unraveled into separate mornings. And not even when time, ever relentless, brushed dust over our shared memories like forgotten photo albums in an attic.
By Alpha Cortexabout a year ago in Fiction
Where Promises Wait
Mira sat on the same weathered bench under the orange tree in the town square at precisely 4:30 PM every day. She melted into the rhythm of the place, part mystery, part scenery, wrapped in a fraying gray shawl and her cane resting next to her like an old friend.
By The Waiting Treeabout a year ago in Fiction
Dark Roast. Top Story - April 2025.
For Belle's Challenge (Entry No. 2): Who the hell let him in here? I was not planning on having my breakfast interrupted by anyone I knew, much less him. But, here I was, right after my run – fourth for the week (okay, third) – sitting in a local café and seeing his face on the same set of seats I would use to finish up a large black coffee before heading home. It was not busy for a Sunday morning – the best time for a run – and I was happy to feel the caffeine and heat flowing through my chilled body. I also had a sandwich to go, but I would have finished it before I got home. That was the plan.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
The Last Sip
The formica tables at the Little Gem diner were wet and worn. The light over their table was dim, the napkins were empty, and no one was within earshot. Stepping through the plastic strip curtains, their waitress went into the kitchen. Two cousins sat across from each other, one stirring a steady stream of sugar into their coffee while the other squeezed lemon into their tap water. It was their Grandma’s favorite restaurant.
By Nicky Franklyabout a year ago in Fiction
