Sci Fi
Blame Not the Father. Runner-Up in Leave the Light On Challenge. Content Warning.
Inside the Milan Dome June 5th, 2122 8:02pm Anselmo Bianchi was a tall man who stooped to fit inside the shadows of the powerful women in his life. He slipped into the dining room so silently that his appearance was as easily ignored as the servants slipping in and out with covered platters. Perhaps it was because the Bianchis of old had the sense to pivot from textiles to a clothing designer to an environsuit developer, but the family was matriarchal.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFAabout a year ago in Fiction
Sleeping Beauty
I couldn't bear it, waiting for him to wake up. Wondering if I'd recognise those eyes when they opened. How long might that would take? All that drink last night would have had an effect on the body, and then I slammed it with a sedative before it was fully recovered...
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
The Night We Were Taken Aboard
“HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE!” Pastor Bartley slammed his fists down on the pulpit. As he bellowed, the organist, an elderly man who was hard of hearing, answered with the same ferocity. He shoved his fingers down on the keys as hard as he could and his feet jabbed at the pedals. Chords, about a half dozen or so, intended to instill dread in the soul, filled the space. The whole congregation was jarred from their stupor. If anyone had fallen asleep, they sure as hell were not asleep anymore.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)about a year ago in Fiction
The Day My Grandfather Stopped Time
I always thought my grandfather was just… ordinary. Old, quiet, and a little forgetful. But one rainy afternoon, he showed me something I’ll never forget. He took my hand and led me to the attic—a place I had never dared enter. Dust danced in the light as he opened a small, wooden box. Inside were dozens of old photographs, each labeled with a date. “This,” he said, “is how I stopped time.” I laughed. “Stopped time? Grandpa, you’re being dramatic.” He smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, he handed me a photo. It was me, sitting in the living room at age five, smiling at something I couldn’t see. “Look closer,” he said. And I did. Hidden in the background, almost invisible, was a tiny shadow… smiling at me. He explained that in every photo, there was a moment frozen that no one else could see—a second where happiness was so pure it could outlast the years. He had been capturing them all his life. That day, I understood: time doesn’t really stop. Memories do. And sometimes, the simplest moments are the ones worth holding forever. I left the attic with a strange sense of peace. Because even if the world moves on, the magic of ordinary life never disappears.
By Haileyesusabout a year ago in Fiction
Shadows on the Edge of Tomorrow
By Nadeem Shah The rain had a way of softening the city’s edges. Buildings that normally looked sharp and unforgiving now blurred into a watercolor of gray and silver. Streetlights bled into the puddles, their glow stretching out in ripples with every raindrop that fell.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Fiction
Shadows on the Edge of Tomorrow
By Nadeem Shah The rain had a way of softening the city’s edges. Buildings that normally looked sharp and unforgiving now blurred into a watercolor of gray and silver. Streetlights bled into the puddles, their glow stretching out in ripples with every raindrop that fell.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Fiction
The Last Letter She Never Sent
By Nadeem Shah The envelope had yellowed with time, the edges curling slightly as if it had been holding its breath for years. It sat at the bottom of the box, beneath a stack of old photographs and forgotten receipts, as though it had been waiting—patient, quiet—for someone to finally notice it.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Fiction
