Microfiction
Whisperglow
In the small coastal town of Seabreeze Cove, secrets held a curious magic. These hidden truths had a peculiar ability to manifest as a gentle, shimmering luminescence, casting a soft, otherworldly radiance known as "Whisperglow." This phenomenon was at the heart of the town's most peculiar legend.
By Muhammad Mohsin3 years ago in Fiction
Memorieshore
Avery Stafford's life had been meticulously planned, a future laid out in measured steps. Yet, as the limo pulled to a stop, she found herself standing on unfamiliar shores. News vans lined the curb, a daunting reminder of the gravity of this moment.
By Muhammad Mohsin3 years ago in Fiction
State Fostered Complexitivity and Lovecraftianism Among the Masses Has Brought Us to the Brink of Disaster
When the project was completed, and what we had been working on was finally revealed to the world the reaction was swift. Moral outrage, anger, and fear. It was the most complex system ever created by man, yet it's primary function remained a mystery. The machine was so complex that it was impossible to explain what it was or how it worked to the intentionally under educated masses. The state propaganda machine had been emphasizing the importance of Occam's razor their entire lives. Part of the people's moral code was based on it, therefore that which was complex was viewed as morally inferior and less desirable then that which was simple. Moreover, the masses had been taught that the the state was omniscient. A thing which was unknown, was a cause to be very afraid. The state knew that the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind was fear, and that the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. They had used that knowledge to great effect, but now it threatened the very existence of the state itself. We had to destroy it, the machine we had built, before it could destroy us. On September 26th, 2036 at 10:26 am a ten megaton thermonuclear warhead was launched from an orbiting satelite and exploded at a height of 1 mile directly above the project site, incinerating the machine and everything else within a 100mile radius.
By Everyday Junglist3 years ago in Fiction
Obstent / Obstention (uhb·stehnt / uhb·stehnt.shn)
IPA: øbstent / øbstentʃən I am obstent in this life—a stone tossed into water without ever making waves, or even ripples. I’ve been spectating this conversation for over an hour, seated on the perimeter like the margins of their page. The obstention grows with each failed attempt to inject myself into the topic.
By Obsidian Words3 years ago in Fiction
Shackabomble
Stephanie hurdled into the cinema. "My brother was in a car accident. He was driving and a meth head ran him off the road but the police thought it was his fault and he was arrested. Luckily someone saw the other driver smoking a pipe earlier and they let Jacob go." Everyone else in the group huddled around Stephanie, hugging and consoling her. Everyone except myself and Ricky. 10 years I'd been hearing her bullshit stories. She didn't even have a brother called Jacob. I'd lost count of how many siblings she'd invented over the years. 12 by my count. In a three bedroom house where her grandmother also lived (actually - not by her delusional mind). I was fucking done. All of these lies designed to make people feel sorry for her middle class life with a father, grandmother and actual brother who loved her. "Shackabomble," I said, quietly at first. Everyone stopped talking. "What?" Stephanie said uncertainly. "Shackabomble. Shackabomble. SHACKABOMBLE." I got progressively louder with each Shackabomble. She could see the anger in my eyes as I advanced upon her, sending our friends scattering. She stepped back with each of my steps. "Shackabomble, bitch," I demanded. "Okay," she conceded. "Dad had to drop Eugene [her actual brother] at soccer practice." Everyone stared between us. The power had shifted. Finally someone had called her out. Ricky, a family friend of Stephanie's who also knew the truth, grinned at me. At last. Someone had called her out. Check mate, fucker.
By Renessa Norton3 years ago in Fiction
The Fluffonia
As Emily snuggled under her warm, fuzzy blanket on a chilly Sunday morning, she entered a realm of pure Fluffonia. With her favorite novel in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other, she had created the perfect cocoon of comfort. The world outside ceased to exist as she nestled deeper into her haven of warmth and softness.
By Haris Hadzic3 years ago in Fiction
