Mystery
Into the Void
Sara dreamed of the ocean the way she remembered it as a kid — cold, gray, endless, the kind of water that didn’t sparkle so much as brood. In the dream, she stood at the shoreline with her boots sinking slowly into wet sand, the tide tugging at her laces like it wanted her to step closer.
By Syl De'Vil23 days ago in Fiction
It’s Not Me It’s Him. Top Story - October 2026.
The ever-changing scenery scrolls by your drowsy eyes as you gaze out a window. The gentle rocking from side to side of the train carriage only adds to the overall listlessness your body is feeling. Travelling by train is an unusual experience for you, only occurring when your journeys take you across the pond. These trips have become more frequent as the political climate continues to change around the globe, and your particular skill set is in greater demand.
By Mark Gagnon24 days ago in Fiction
The Wrong Room at the Right Time
You don’t know how you ended up in this room. You weren’t looking for it. You weren’t even looking for him. You were just walking — down a hallway, through a door, across a threshold — and suddenly you’re somewhere you’ve never been before, somewhere that feels private in a way that makes your skin prickle.
By Syl De'Vil24 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
Sara didn’t even know why she went out there that morning. She told herself it was just curiosity, just wanting to see how far the construction crew had gotten on the new house, but really it was because she hadn’t come back here since she returned. Not once. The old willow tree still hunched over the hill like it was guarding Lake Downing, its branches rattling in the cold wind, whispering the same secrets they used to whisper when she and Birdi climbed it and pretended they were queens of the whole damn world. The lake hadn’t changed at all. But she had. It felt smaller now, or maybe she did.
By Syl De'Vil25 days ago in Fiction
Aurelius Ascends (part 3)
At first, the crew thought that what was likely happening to their craft right now was nothing more than a minor navigational anomaly, a glitch, as they had begun sensing a very subtle gravitational tug over the last hour, something that all of the crew, apart from one absent member, had been starting to feel as a slowly growing vibration through the underside artificial gravity plating areas, which , while this would certainly account for the sudden ‘light spring in their steps,’ it was definitely not one that could have explained away the navigational gremlins they were experiencing with their shipwide instrumentation panels though.
By Jonathan Townend26 days ago in Fiction
Apparition of Desires
I found myself in a recurring dream. The one where I’m naked. Not naked in the grocery store but naked at the dry cleaners. Everyone in line holding their ticket is shouting, me, me, me. Fully clothed and faceless with familiar voices. I recognized yours. It was that spring or maybe it was early summer when the mayflies were extreme. Blanketing the ground and buildings like snow, I had never seen so many. On the beach alone, you said you would never tire of how the moon lit the hair on the back of my head. In the dry cleaners I covered my privates so people wouldn't heckle and snicker at my shame. Next in line I began to unzip the zipper under my chin. Zipped down through my abdomen. Carefully under and down through to the inseam of my left leg. All the way down to my heel. I remove my flesh from its bones, like I was peeling off a onesie. How a mechanic releases himself at the end of a day from his coveralls. The blood coursing through my veins like neon. Lungs expanding and contracting with every breath in this space we share. You're here, I know you are, I can hear you. My skull and rib cage exposed, along with my spine and pelvis. The guts, muscles and organs revealed to the faceless standing in line. You're faceless but I can hear you. I hand the woman my suit of skin, asked for the one-hour service. She said the stain on the center of my chest may be hard to remove. I lied and said it was from coffee. Stood to the side exposing my innermost self. Waited in silence surrounded by the girth of rich men with rhino horns in their William Westmancott suits. This is where the dream really takes a turn. On the beach wading into the ocean. A whirlpool I couldn’t resist draws me in and under. The ceiling of my bedroom becomes the ocean. I look up from my bed, rays of light spear down penetrating the surface illuminating a hovering silhouette. I am that silhouette near the surface floating effortlessly looking down at myself sleeping below. I thought I saw you hovering above me, looking down at me, except it was my eyes inside of you looking down at me. Part of me seeing you and part of me seeing me through you. The mayflies cover me like skin. I don’t know if they’re protecting me or dying with me. Your voice is gone now. You’re nowhere in sight, I woke, a little feverish, a little not knowing. Not knowing for a moment where I am. I covered myself, my skin, it’s all here, dazed a little, I’m still complete.
By Gerry Thibeault27 days ago in Fiction
Almost Done
Gorman Reach had had enough. He couldn't remember how many times today he'd been knocked down and had his face pushed against something nobody would want their face pushed against. "It was more than once, I'll tell you that," he thought. And that was once more than he felt necessary. Gorman Reach is a ghoul and being such, doesn't feel pain in the same way a human does, but discomfort and humiliation are feelings universally shared. And right now, he was feeling an inordinate amount of both.
By Adam Diehl28 days ago in Fiction
