Series
The Story of The Little Good Boy
The Unconventional goodness of the Jacob Blivens Once there was a good little boy by the name of Jacob Blivens. He always obeyed his parents, no matter how absurd and unreasonable their demands were; and he always learned his book, and never was late at Sabbath-school. He would not play hookey, even when his sober judgment told him it was the most profitable thing he could do. None of the other boys could ever make that boy out, he acted so strangely. He wouldn't lie, no matter how convenient it was. He just said it was wrong to lie, and that was sufficient for him. And he was so honest that he was simply ridiculous. The curious ways that Jacob had surpassed everything. He wouldn't play marble son Sunday, he wouldn't rob birds' nests, he wouldn't give hot pennies to organ-grinders ‘monkeys; he didn't seem to take any interest in any kind of rational amusement. So the other boys used to try to reason it out and come to an understanding of him, but they couldn't arrive at any satisfactory conclusion. As I said be-fore, they, could only figure out a sort of vague idea that he was“afflicted,”and so they took him under their protection, and never allowed any harm to come to him.
By Sarwar Zebabout a year ago in Fiction
Guardians and Angels | Chapter Three (Part 12). Top Story - April 2025.
I knew everything about permanent marks on my life, or so I thought. My freckles, they’ve always stained my skin; wine splashes upon my image, spattered and sprayed across me since the day I saw my own arms and legs. I was a spotted animal of some sort, in my mind, a leopard. A marked creature who would be feared for its tattooed patterns. In reality, they were a scourge, or so I thought.
By Christopher Dubbsabout a year ago in Fiction
No Signal, No Mercy
Crash site Silence The sky was wrong. Color bled from it in purples and ash-blue streaks, pulsing like bruises across the heavens. Captain Mira Lorne crawled from the wreckage of the Odyssey-6, her suit sparking at the seams, air hissing from a fracture near her left side. The emergency oxygen reserves flickered to life, and she sat in silence amid the twisted metal and scorched soil of an alien world. Her coms buzzed static. No signal. She tapped the controls again. Nothing.
By Shah Jehanabout a year ago in Fiction
Breath Between Battles
The Sky That Burned The sky was always red now. Not the romantic, dreamy kind of red. This was ash and fire, smeared across the heavens like the war itself had climbed into the sky and painted its anger there. Everything was scorched. The city, once alive with neon lights and laughter, was now just bones—steel and concrete twisted into broken silhouettes. And in the middle of that shattered world, we found each other.
By Shah Jehanabout a year ago in Fiction
Stuff of Books
Ryan made his way across the commons. On the far side of the campus was a small independent bookstore, where he spent most of his time, aside from eating near the cafeteria. He wasn't enrolled in the school, despite the owner's urgings. On this day, the wind was especially strong. As he walked, the gusts whipped around him like a foreboding force—a warning he chose to ignore. He was running later than usual, and he knew his boss would likely scold him for it. Which made him more anxious than normal.
By Crystal Nealabout a year ago in Fiction
Fleeing Fate
Brown, his eyes were the color of mud. There was nothing special about them. They lightened considerably when he came in contact with his daemon kin. They almost glowed, but with the color of melted chocolate. It was like a shock to his system. His hand was not singed from the flames that covered the animal's body. His fingers felt tingly after he had been thrown back hard enough to land on top of Shadow. He used his hands to pull himself upright. As he did he used the wolf's body as leverage without thinking. There wasn't too much time to marvel at what occurred. Ryan heard Agnes screaming outside of the cabin. He had not planned to be tossed through a wall. It caused his body to ache all over. "We better get moving!" His companion warned him. "Come on, Ryan, move faster!"
By Crystal Nealabout a year ago in Fiction
Life at the Cost of Drinking a Cup of Time: The Simulated Dream
Part Six: Fractured Horizon The laboratory was engulfed in an eerie silence, the hum of the machines drowned beneath the weight of anticipation. Alex stood at the center, sensors meticulously attached to his temples, wires snaking like veins into the heart of the system. Every breath he took felt heavier than the last, as if even the air resisted him. Darcy hesitated, fingers hovering over the console. "This is the last chance, Alex. We don’t know what’s waiting for you on the other side." Alex met her gaze unwaveringly. "We never will—unless I go." Rosalyn placed a reassuring hand on his arm, though she couldn’t hide the tremble in her fingers. "Just… come back." A faint smile ghosted Alex’s lips as he closed his eyes. Darcy exhaled sharply and pressed the start button. The room vibrated with energy, the machine roared to life. Data waves surged across the monitors, numbers morphing into unreadable symbols. And then—Alex vanished. --- He awoke in motion. Not falling, not flying—something in between. Time stretched, twisted, fractured, and reassembled itself in broken frames, like an old film reel skipping endlessly. Then, he landed. The air was thick with an invisible electricity, the scent of scorched metal filling his nostrils. Alex stumbled forward, his boots scraping against an unfamiliar surface—smooth, artificial, yet aged and worn. A city loomed ahead, its towers sleek but cracked, its streets abandoned yet echoing with unseen movements. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, too swift to be real. And then he saw her. Sarah. Older, exactly as he had seen her before. But this time, she wasn’t reaching out to help him. She was running—toward him, her eyes wide with terror and urgency. "Alex!" Her voice cut through the silence. "You’re not supposed to be here!" Before he could respond, the sky above them split open, light erupting from within like a wound torn in the fabric of reality. From the glow, a form emerged—vast, shifting, watching. And then, a voice. Not words heard, but a presence felt. "You are not the first. But you may be the last." Alex’s breath caught in his chest. This wasn’t just the future. It was a warning. --- "Alex! You are now synchronized with Tom’s brain signals. Focus!" Darcy’s voice rang in his ears, and suddenly, the world shifted. Alex found himself at home, on the morning of the accident. Sunlight streamed through the windows. Sarah stood in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Tom, brimming with energy, chattered about his new friend at school. Alex knew this moment defined everything. But how? Sarah grabbed the keys to drive Tom to school. Alex lunged forward. "No, Sarah! I’ll take him today." She laughed, but there was something in her eyes—something he hadn’t noticed before. "You’re sweet, Alex. But life isn’t that simple." Then she paused and softly said, "Look at the window, Alex." He turned. And his breath caught. Beyond the glass, another version of himself stood. In another room. Then another. And another. In one world, Tom was slightly younger, Sarah and Alex still youthful. In another, they were older. Infinite versions of himself, Sarah, Tom. But something was wrong. He whispered, "What am I supposed to do?" Sarah laughed. But it wasn’t her usual laugh—it was bitter, quiet, as if hiding a terrible truth. "Only one person gets to leave this room alive, Alex. And that’s you." Alex’s eyes widened. "And if I refuse?" Sarah sighed, sorrow flashing in her gaze. "Then you’ll be trapped here forever. There is no exit. No escape. This is a matrix." Alex turned to Tom. He was alive. So he whispered, "I want Tom to live." Sarah nodded slowly. "You’re a good father, Alex. But are you willing to be cursed forever?" Alex smiled faintly. "Yes. If it means saving Tom, yes. And if I can see you this clearly again, what else could I possibly want?" Sarah closed her eyes. "That’s your choice." A heavy silence swallowed the room. --- In the lab, Darcy stared at the monitors. The machines displayed unreadable signals. "What’s happening?!" Rosalind asked, panicked. Moments later, Tom gasped, his eyes snapping open, filled with confusion and fear. He was alive. But Alex? He had fallen into a deep sleep, a coma. Darcy murmured under her breath, "He’s trapped in another world…" That night, Rosalyn returned home, tears in her eyes. She played the recorded session. The tape was empty. No sound, no image, no sign of Alex. Only a faint whisper echoed in the silence. Was he still there? Was this an ending? Or a beginning? End of Chapter One
By Vafa Abbasiabout a year ago in Fiction
Guardians and Angels | Chapter Three (Part 11)
“They aren’t angel wings,” I said, our lips no longer touching. “They are just regular wings.” He looked into my eyes, smiling slightly, his eye black and swollen. “There is no such thing as regular wings, Christopher. Anyone with wings is special, whether they are angel wings or not.”
By Christopher Dubbsabout a year ago in Fiction
