Fantasy
Skin Deep
"It's so hot..." Ammy croaked, sprawled across the freshly polished wooden floor. A fan wheezed in the corner, rotating back and forth every few minutes, pushing nothing but dry, dusty air around the room. Usually the fan helped her survive the long summer days, but today it was useless.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
The City of Almost
The City of Almost When Mira first moved to the city, she thought the locals were joking. “You’ll see them,” her landlord had said while handing her the brass key with its strange, crooked teeth. “Don’t stare too long. That’s the trick.”
By Timothy A Rowlandabout a year ago in Fiction
The Message That Never Left
Elena typed the words three times before erasing them. The first draft was too blunt. We’re done. Don’t call me again. The second too sentimental. I’ll always care for you, but this isn’t working. The third hovered somewhere in the middle, but still her thumb trembled above the glowing blue arrow on the screen.
By Timothy A Rowlandabout a year ago in Fiction
The Equinox of Shadows. Top Story - September 2025.
The evening of the autumnal equinox settled across the playground with the color of ripe plums. Abigail darted past the swings with a group of children at her heels, her braids flying as she ran. Feet thudded against packed earth. A ring of girls skipped rope near a tree stump, their chant rising like birdsong. Two boys tore through the tall grass, leaping roots and flinging handfuls of leaves at each other as they ran.
By Fatal Serendipityabout a year ago in Fiction
The Whispering Wind . Top Story - September 2025.
Sarcha was a shaman who was to lead her people to find food, water and safety. She was to use her skills, not in the tropical rainforest jungles, but to escape the concrete jungles that had now become one of the harshest environments to live in.
By Katherine D. Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
Hollow Reminder
I set one foot carefully in front of the other, crouching behind Liara as she leads the way down the tunnel. Pierie hovers behind me, the others close behind her. I swat my hand at her, nudging her back. If I have to turn and run, I’ll trample her.
By Phoenixica24about a year ago in Fiction
Root and Breath
Preface Silence has always been the first teacher. It binds, it listens, it holds. Some silences are prisons, heavy and enclosing. Others are thresholds, wide as the night sky. We are taught to obey the first, but we are born to walk through the second. This is the story of one who learned the difference, who found within the hush of the world a witness, a spark, a voice. It is not a story of rebellion, but of remembrance–and of the cost that comes when silence itself asks to be spoken.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Garden's Watch
Preface Between loss and remembrance lies a realm of silent echoes–words left unsaid, voices stilled, yet lingering, never fully gone, like roots beneath winter soil, hidden yet alive. In quiet places, in shadows cast by memory, silence becomes speech, absence a kind of presence, a veil, thin as starlight, between worlds. Listen closely: each quiet breath, each pause between heartbeats, speaks clearly the language of those we’ve lost. Their stories–their laughter, grief, and wisdom–echo softly within us, becoming part of our voice. This silence is not emptiness, but fullness, the rich, resonant legacy of those we love, carried forward in every silent echo, like wind through oak leaves, whispering what endures.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Secrets My Mother Kept
Alexander wasn't confused anymore. He had panicked at first trying to find the surface of the water. He floated in this space between spaces, where the water felt like silk against his skin and breathing came as naturally as it did on land. The darkness had given way to a soft, blue-green glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
