Holiday

The Summer We Left Behind
I was staying with my dad for the summer, and I decided to get a job until I went back home with Mom. I always stayed with Dad during the summer, and it was always magical. My dad lived in a small town, while I lived in a big city, so it was a nice change.
By Dee Johnson8 days ago in Fiction
The Road To Halloween
Come, walk through October. Follow the lane, where gold leaves tumble like soft autumn rain. The mornings are wrapped in silver-gray fog. The afternoons carry the last warmth of summer, and evening walks become the perfect treat.
By Alexandria Hypatia10 days ago in Fiction
Moment of respite
You shouldn't turn here, but there was no other way to break away from the crowd for at least a five-minute break and give your eyes a rest with a bit of green grass and plants. You walked straight ahead; the buildings all around were shades of gray. You couldn’t see anyone behind or in front of you, as if this whole space were suddenly meant just for you—this time, this moment. Suddenly, you felt as if this were it— that’s exactly how you feel freedom—that’s exactly how you feel and experience true silence and relief, as if hope had suddenly come to life right at that moment—from the complete dim into an incredible abyss that transports your thoughts to a completely different world and reality—something very close and familiar to you, but only beginning to take shape for a while—just for a moment—just a few times in your life, you’ve felt this thing that you couldn’t quite put into words, but you knew exactly what it was, and despite the immense weight emanating from the buildings and the vastness of the city and the people all around you in that space, you were completely free. That moment of respite—that was it. Suddenly, someone started talking to you; who it was, you don’t know—you didn’t see them, you only heard a voice, as if coming straight from you, from that space—both known and unknown—and also from this new one just coming into being. That voice seemed to have been waiting for you right there, in that passageway across from the hotel in the city center called Mestre; out of the sort of silence of the gray walls, that voice appeared That voice was familiar to you; it aroused neither fear nor uncertainty—as if you had been waiting for it for a long time, but it had never appeared before.
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 17 days ago in Fiction
I Sat in the Driver's Seat of a Car I Was Never Supposed to Touch
You are not supposed to be here. You know this before you touch the door. The sign on the chain-link fence says NO ENTRY. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. But the gate hangs open six inches, just wide enough to suggest permission if you are the kind of person who needs permission to be suggested.
By Jin22 days ago in Fiction
Her boyfriend disappeared. The hospital still refused to give her her baby's birth certificate.
Father missing: where the birth certificate gets stuck In February 2025, Ms. Zhang gave birth to a baby boy at a hospital in Liuzhou. When she filled out admission paperwork, she listed her boyfriend, Mr. Zhu, as the father. Mr. Zhu then disappeared. Ms. Zhang could not reach him by phone. He did not answer WeChat messages. She could not find him. She could not get his ID.
By Jin23 days ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Patch
Who remembers going to a pumpkin patch to find a great pumpkin? Not the one Linus is hoping for. This pumpkin patch is one place of many stories of memories of fun and family. One would get in the car, and it seems for miles but really is not that far. We hopped out of the car and just started running for we knew that sometimes there would be treats hidden around these pumpkins just like those Easter egg hunts in the Spring, but at times the farmer would only have selected few and just settle for the perfect pumpkin.
By Mark Graham27 days ago in Fiction
The Christmas Squatter
Thursdays were my group therapy days. There was always a small amount of dread, though it did help. Here I was again, sitting in the same tan chairs I used to sit in at church.
By Bentlee Hatchabout a month ago in Fiction
LHS Origins
In the summer of 1988, Montreal was alive with color and sound. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bagels from St. Viateur, mingling with the sweet aroma of maple syrup wafting through the open windows. Megan darted down Rue Saint-Denis like a firefly caught in a warm breeze, her laughter echoing off cobblestones that had seen generations walk by.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Fiction
LHS Origins
In the summer of 1988, five-year-old Megan sat crammed between her older brother, Jake, and their mother in the backseat of their blue Chevy station wagon. The engine hummed steadily as they drove through the lush landscapes of Vermont, heading toward Montreal. Outside the window, fields of corn swayed like a golden ocean beneath a cloud-dappled sky. It was a world alive with possibilities.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Fiction
the gift. Top Story - September 2026.
The third one arrived on the summer solstice, cocooned in shades of evergreen and holly. The scent of pine clung to its crisp folds with ink the shade of ripened cranberries sprawled across the muted expanse spelling 'Mrs. Aribella Niccoli' in swirling loops of elegant script. Her hands shook as she traced the familiar writing.
By Heather Hublerabout a month ago in Fiction
Christmas in July
My father is a mighty man, and mighty men have mighty friends. My dad had lots of mighty little friends. I remember, when I was only five, staring at his friends and thinking, “This friend is really tall with big hands, but this friend is very small with little hands.” His tiny friends came over every day without a single day off. His big friends, however, would only come two days a week. My father would open the door, greet them, and lead them out to the shop. Some days, when I wanted my father to take me to the park, the little friends would work on their own all day in the shop.
By Hailey Mabout a month ago in Fiction
Hippity-Hoppity-Boom
I don’t know what I expected to happen this morning when I got out of bed, but it sure wasn’t what happened. Let me clarify that. It was Independence Day. I was prepared for the normal parades, fireworks, and celebrating. The way the day would unfold was a complete shock to me, though. Really, any day is a surprise for any of us.
By Mother Combsabout a month ago in Fiction