Microfiction
What a night!
What a night. What would you do if you saw a group of witches with a book of spells approaching you on an old road and they spot you? That is what happened to me and this is my story. I was just walking along minding my own business when I saw them. One seemed to have seen me, so I slipped behind a tree. I believe it was too late for they chanted something that I did not understand, but I began to float higher and higher. They laughed and laughed as I fell from the sky and crashed.
By Mark Grahamabout an hour ago in Fiction
Stitch. The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
The neon glare of the diner vanished in a flash of black and chrome as Sara throttled the Triumph out onto the main road. The storm wasn't letting up. It slammed straight into her chest—a wall of freezing water and biting wind that would have forced most riders to pull over. But Sara just tucked her chin lower into the collar of her heavy leather jacket, her boots locked tight against the pegs. Letting her helmet take the blasts.
By Syl De'Vilabout 21 hours ago in Fiction
Stitch. The lore of Sara Foxgrave
The night thinned out fast after the rush. A few regulars left early, muttering about the storm rolling in. Bane was one of them. He slipped out without fanfare, without lingering, just a nod toward Josh and a last glance at Sara that she pretended not to notice.
By Syl De'Vilabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
Tomorrow's Problem
Dealing with an author can be hard. You tell us something ordinary, and we see a story waiting to happen. You mention a bad day at work, and suddenly there’s a character sitting in a canteen, nursing a cuppa and wondering where his life is heading. You describe a rainy morning, and we see an opening scene; you share an argument, and we hear dialogue; you mention a memory, and we discover a past that deserves to be explored.
By Christian Bassa day ago in Fiction
Red Wine
You imagine lounging at the beach, swirling your wine, as your folding chair sinks deeper into the sodden grass. “Just put mine in the fridge,” you say, reading the freshly etched words that have somehow already gathered dirt in their grooves. “I’m having a drink with our daughter.”
By Polite Adjacenta day ago in Fiction
Ekaterinburg is Your Best Bet!
Putin died and was buried in St.Petersburg, his native city. A Russian political dissident who'd been driven out of the country for fear of persecution comes to a travel agent and says, "Please help me find a ticket to St.Petersburg, Russia. I tried to book it myself but everything seems to have been sold out for a year."
By Lana V Lynx2 days ago in Fiction
Halloween day
It was the day before Halloween and the Zombies have decided to come out early. The humans were not quite sure what to think for they, the zombies were not interested in them it seemed. The humans wondered why. They knew Halloween was tomorrow, so they decided too maybe give zombies a scare. They decided to act like them. The zombies stopped walking and just stared and started CANDEE, CANDEE, CANDEE!!!! The humans stopped do you suppose they still know it's Halloween and they happen to be trick or treating even a day early. The humans threw candy. Zombies smiled.
By Mark Graham2 days ago in Fiction
