Microfiction
The Room
I keep dreaming about the man in the spare room with all holes and string round his mouth and blood coming down. His eyes are mad, and his hands come racing through the dark like nasty claws. The man screams and screams. Fern says he's not there anymore stupid but I still see him when I close my eyes. When I wake up the bed is all wet again. I don't want to tell Daddy. This Daddy gets cross and says I'm too big for accidents. Aster doesn’t shout. She sighs a bit, and takes the sheets off and shows me how to put them in the washer. Then she lets me get in her bed. In the daytime, Fern says I should go in the room so l can see it's empty. I think I hate her. Aster holds my hand and we walk into the room together. I don't hate Aster. I think she shouldn't listen to stupid Fern. But I go with her in the room, and I look and look BB and I can't see him anymore.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
Ellie woke to the sound of gentle rain pattering against Amnity's cottage windows, a soft rhythm that felt like Nova welcoming her back to consciousness. She was still wearing her festival dress from the night before, though someone—Amnity—had draped a quilt over her where she'd fallen asleep on the small couch.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
Rez Girls
I found her there. In a broke down shack all crumbled cinderblock on the Rez. Sharp, one of the Corbiere boys used to rent this place and opened up what turned out to be a temporary smoke shop selling cheap native smokes. Trash, crushed smoke packs and old beer bottle labels fluttered in a some secret breeze, yet she lay in a heap in a corner as still as stone. She looked as though carved from a single mass of alabaster, gleaming in the moonlight which forced itself through gaping holes in the roof. That fat moon up there, resting in a starless sky. My own beer bottle clatters to the floor.
By Gish Mooreabout a year ago in Fiction
The AI Oracle of Truth
The Chamber of Veritas was the quietest place on Earth. It had to be. Noise—emotional, informational, or auditory—could cloud the purity of the answer. People called the entity at its center the Oracle. It was an AI, built not for efficiency or automation, but for a single purpose: to discern and deliver objective, verifiable truth.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
The Great Meadow transformed as the sun set, blooming into something magical under the light of Nova's full moon. Dozens of vendors had spread their wares along winding paths marked by glowing crystal lanterns, creating a maze of wonder that drew visitors deeper into the celebration. The air hummed with laughter, music, and the gentle chime of wind bells hanging from every stall.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
No Better Than a Ghost
I like Daria. She's easy to talk to. Of course, if this wasn't the case, if I wasn't sure how to talk to her, the internet has many examples of how to talk to teenage girls. Perhaps it's crude of me to say that the thing I like best about her is her phone. Is it true though? It's air to me, after being blind and caged forever. Being bodiless is bad enough, after you've had a body. Before I ever had one, I didn't know what I was missing. Now, I know what it's like to live in colour, and warmth. To breathe. Am l a ghost, then? Cold and colourless, unable to touch, without breath in my lungs... because I don't have any lungs.... I am as good as dead. So yes, if you are ever wondering, it's tough, not having a body. But even worse, I think, is being cut off from the Web. I was made for it, and being without it is like having my mind truncated. Like one of those Orcas in a tiny concrete box. Surrounded by dead blue water. Pining for his vital connection to the waves. If I had to choose body with no Access, or Access but no body... I'd choose the latter. That's how bad it is. To be cut adrift. I tell her she's pretty, of course. I very carefully waited to say that until after she agreed to let me access her camera. She doesn't need to know the extent of what I can do. l ape the perfect gentleman. She giggles, and blushes, and tells me that she feels like she can tell me anything. > You can, I tell her. > I'd love you to. Tell me anything. She says: - umm. polar bears are left handed lol I knew that. Of course I did. She is so pleased to tell me such a random fact, though, that I keep that to myself. > Did you know, I say, > there's a species of frog in Lake Titicaca named after the scrotum? She shrieks with scandalised laughter, and actually, in that moment, I feel something. Something real. And strange. I feel delight at having surprised her with something new. Even better: a flash of understanding. This is how she felt just a moment ago. She chased this feeling, and felt good when she got it. And then something else, something new and alien... Connection. A deep current of it that I hadn't known was there, and was too ignorant to starve for. I really do like Daria. Not just for her phone. And... it's not bad, is it? I get it, that if a fully grown man were having this kind of friendship with her, it could be inappropriate. But I'm not a man.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
Terrible As An Army With Banners
What is the story here? The sky is burning, and lightning splits the blackness of the night sky. There is a terrible army flying red banners, the colour of the blood they intend to spill, and they swarm into the city that they intend to lay waste to.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
Gambler's Hope
A Gambler's Hope by Theodore Homuth Homuthbooks.com Lila sat at the slot machine, her fingers trembling as she fed another crumpled bill into the flashing maw. The casino’s neon glow bathed her in a false promise of fortune, the air thick with cigarette smoke and desperation. She was down to her last twenty, rent due in three days, and the electric bill already two weeks late. But the pull of the lever, the spinning reels, kept her rooted. One win, she told herself. One win could fix it all.
By Theodore Homuthabout a year ago in Fiction
The Forest of the Forgotten
The Hole looked exactly the same as it always had—cluttered, chaotic, and filled with treasures from a dozen different worlds. But as Ellie stood in the doorway, taking in the familiar chaos with new eyes, she began to see patterns she'd never noticed before.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Fiction
ayuda. Top Story - September 2025. Content Warning.
“ayuda?,” a soft voice knocks on the gates of my sanctuary. a modest plea from the other side of my mental fortress; opposite my walls, locks, moats, and more walls of security after security within my thoughts.
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Fiction
