Microfiction
The Megaphone
In a time where correspondence is the foundation of society, the bull horn remains an image of enhanced voices, aggregate activity, and the ability to arrive at numerous from a solitary source. A gadget so basic in plan yet stupendous in influence, the bull horn has developed over the long run to act as something beyond an apparatus — it is an instrument of progress, a symbol of dissent, and a reference point for strengthening. To investigate the amplifier's importance is to dive into its set of experiences, its social job, and its extraordinary power in both individual and open arenas.
By nadia khanom2 years ago in Fiction
Turtle. Top Story - November 2024.
Her body rocks in the ocean’s gentle sway as she follows the earth’s magnetic pull. For a hundred years she’s travelled these waters, her discoloured shell a testament to her survival. From sun rippled reefs to sunken ships, long forgotten, her travels have taken her far.
By Heather Zieffle 2 years ago in Fiction
326 PsyLo: Part 6
The label, "survivor," is relative. Three centuries after Yesterwar, who was more the survivor? Was it the organized, somewhat fanatical group who chose to survive, on the front end, by retreating from the fallout, death, and disease, incarcerating themselves in a subterranean tube, waiting patiently—at the mercy of a begrudged planet that took its time scrubbing down its air, land, and sea?
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Silent is the Night. Top Story - November 2024. Content Warning.
This is a tough time of year. It's been so long since his last feeding, and worse, he still has several weeks to wait. They stretch in front of him, yawning wide and black with needle-teeth of hunger pains. The weather turns, and the cold deepens. The night dark pulls in, squeezing the daylight hours like a fat man pulling in his belly to edge through a tight space. These things only sharpen his appetite even further. The coloured lights strung up all over town are switched on. Their cheery twinkle is reflected in every pair of eyes, both innocent and cynical. Another reminder of how close (and how far!) he is from satisfying his hunger. He glares at them. His bowlful of jelly grumbles. Ahh the little tots, they are so soft and warm in his lap! The scent of them rises up from those adorable heads, with their curls, their mops, their pigtails and braids. He breathes it in and savours it, the buttery sweet smell of them. His hands twitch, how badly he wants to crush and twist, and slurp and chew and crunch... Their screams, just as delicious, a fine accompaniment to wash it all down.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Wives. Content Warning.
Bethan waited for the woman to respond but she stood, back to her. Bethan was unsure what to do, but eventually, she decided to get up and go over to her rescuer. Gingerly, Bethan rose, her head pounding and her body trembling. Standing, she paused to breathe deeply.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
325 PsyLo: Part 5
"That's what the red screen is for," argued the Society Curator of SILO. "To keep us from blundering. We are all safe in SILO, after all. Our experiment was a success. And it is sustainable, despite the population advisories that were necessary for the last two generations."
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Unreal Connections
At ten-thirty, the sun was still faint in the morning of January winter like a pale moon in the middle of an ocean of clouds. I was brushing my teeth. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I was in my school uniform with a school bag on my shoulder.
By Dhahin Aqil Siddique2 years ago in Fiction
A Local Pub (For Local People)
The regulars didn't use that toilet. Sometimes, a newcomer would come in. Conversations pause. Every eye drilled into the hapless patron, skewered on all sides by those sharp gazes, frozen like a rabbit in headlights. Glancing left and right, wondering if this was a mistake. This place was too local.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
