Microfiction

One Last Letter. AI-Generated.
The yellowed envelope sat at the bottom of my metal mailbox, tucked beneath a utility bill and a colorful grocery flyer. My name and address were written across the front in dark blue ink. The handwriting was unmistakable—slanted, sharp, and unmistakably David’s.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
"What Are You Doing, Debil?"
Once on a road trip, someone tried to cut my son off in heavy traffic. “What are you doing, debil?” he yelled at the driver.
By Lana V Lynx3 months ago in Fiction
The Cafe's Empty Chair. AI-Generated.
The small brass bell above the door of the café always rang twice when the wind blew. Every Tuesday afternoon, I sat at my usual table, drank my coffee, and stared at the empty seat near the big window. It was a simple dark wood chair with a small notch carved into the back.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Passenger. AI-Generated.
The 11:45 PM train out of the city was always quiet, but tonight felt different. Rain was heavy against the window, blurring the yellow streetlights outside into long streaks of soft light. I leaned my head against the cold glass, feeling the hum of the engine beneath my feet. I was completely exhausted—not just from a long day at work, but from months of feeling like I was living a life that wasn't really mine.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
An End
Sign on the dotted line. It wasn’t a hard concept. Just two words. A name he’d been using for decades now. One that had somehow become more him than his real name.
By B. M. Valdez3 months ago in Fiction
Outsider
Introduction This is for For L.C. Schäfer's Dollar Challenge - Quote Me Baby (Women's Edition) that you can check out here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Fiction
My Neighbor Left Me a Key With One Strange Warning. AI-Generated.
Old Mr. Henderson was the kind of neighbor who kept his lawn immaculate and his interactions brief. For six years, our relationship consisted entirely of polite nods over the fence and the occasional wave while taking out the trash. So when he knocked on my door on a rainy Tuesday evening, holding a heavy silver brass key, I was completely caught off guard.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
Every Night at 2:17, Someone Knocked on My Door. AI-Generated.
The first time it happened, I brushed it off as a half-asleep delusion. It was a cold, sharp Thursday in mid-November, and the wind outside was howling through the bare oak branches in my front yard. I woke up abruptly to three heavy, rhythmic knocks on my front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. I rolled over, blinked at the glowing red digits on my alarm clock— 2:17 AM —and assumed it was a lost neighbor or a confused delivery driver. But when I pulled back the window curtain, the porch was empty. The street lay dead silent under the amber glow of a single streetlight.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
How Silence Helped Me Reclaim My Life. AI-Generated.
The quiet hours of the early morning have a distinct way of stripping away the noise of the world. Long before the city wakes, before the rush of traffic and the relentless ping of notifications take over, there is a sacred pause. I sat by the narrow window of my apartment, watching the dark sky slowly soften into shades of muted violet and pale gold. In my hand, a mug of coffee grew cold as I stared at the blank page in front of me.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
One Missed Call. AI-Generated.
It was a calm evening in Shanuou, a small town. Sarah , a young college student, sat at her desk, studying for her final exams. Her apartment felt cozy as she flipped through her textbooks.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
The Stepping Forth of an Artificial Being
There will come a being that is omniscient, that is omnipresent—though no one truly knows what those words mean, especially when speaking of organic telepathy.
By Chase McQuade3 months ago in Fiction
Manhattan skyline
Jody was late for the meeting, walking between blocks in Lower Manhattan, trying to find the subway entrance. She could hardly cross the road for traffic, and the noise, smells and searing heat were unbearable. She whistled up a taxi and hopped in. Acutely conscious of the time, Jody still had leisure to admire the classic, geometric lines of the buildings reaching up to the sky. She recalled what her grandma from New York had said about cab drivers.
By Raymond G Taylor3 months ago in Fiction